THE NAUTICAL SCHOOL.

Words this week are Controlled. Belongings. Shook. Reminder. Routine. Black.

I don’t remember how I got to HNA, but I was very pleased to be back with my brother after a year of separation. Christopher seemed changed. He was in Class 2B when I arrived on Wednesday 16 December 1936. I was exactly ten years and five months of age. Christopher was in Seven Company and I was in Six Company, each company having about forty-five boys between the ages of eleven and fifteen-and-a-half. I had two days of schooling before the Christmas break when I was told I would be in 1A, not the 1B class. (The Headmaster had obviously read the letter from Mr Pointer. the head from  my previous school).

It was a BLACK* day for me when I had all of my belongings taken from me and clothing replaced by that of which the boys in that school all wore.
 Halls Naval Academy was a charity CONTROLLED* school with a nautical theme run on militaristic ROUTINE* principles. The estate was located in the Suffolk rural countryside far from the outside world. It was situated on the edge of a plateau that sloped east to a valley near the river Eastham where the school farmed the land. HNA had a population of a large staff and about three hundred students between eleven and sixteen years of age. The students were allowed to take two three-week vacations each year during the summer and at Christmas. All other holiday periods were spent at the school. Students without guardians never left the school. Students had no access to the outside world, arbitral access, or personal rights. Discipline was strict. Hunger and fear of punishment were constant. Love and affection were non-existent, I was constantly REMINDED * that my existence seemed to be modelled on a latter-day Oliver Twist.

 All communication to and from the school was censored. Those boys who never left the school on vacation became conditioned to their surroundings (like caged birds) and were probably happier at the school than those of us who had an occasional release from our incarceration. On the 20 December 1936, having been told by my brother that he was going home again to Auntie Parker, I raised the roof and said, “I should go, too!” I was told, “No money, no ticket, no permission. Sorry, you’ll have to stay”.. This SHOOK* me to the core.

Like bloody hell, I thought. Then the bugler sounded the action stations call and the lucky ones – about half the population of the school – marched to the East Oakville Station. Two or three hours later, I was on a train that had stopped at a large station. My friend, Ernie Booker and I had no idea where we were going,  we had done a bunk from the school, I had had enough of that school.
Halls Naval Academy

At the dead end station, we must have looked conspicuous. The ticket bloke and staff at the station locked us up. Soon after, we were back at HNA. Living in a dark cloud of rejection, I was totally at odds with that place. I wondered how much more I would have to suffer.

22 December 1936
My brother had arrived in Charlham. Meanwhile, I was confused and in a state of apathy. Ernie and I were in serious trouble. Having only been at this place for six days, I was to get six cuts of the cane. Having no one to turn to for help, I was wretchedly homesick. It was suggested by a few teachers that because it was so close to Christmas we should be forgiven, but our Capt. Superintendent replied, “Peace on earth and goodwill to all men applies only on Christmas day.” The remaining population of the school gathered to witness our punishment. A box horse for us to bend over was produced, plus the biggest rattan cane – even bigger than the one at Charlham School. Ernie went first. It seemed like a bloody execution – minus the knitting hags, the French National Anthem, and a basket for our heads. Ernie was brave but white as a sheet after his six and had to go to the sickbay. I later learned he had received a testicular injury. Ernie going first made little difference, as another instructor, ‘Gunner Marten’ was to be my tormentor. I felt bloody awful. My thin trousers barely hid the bleeding welts across my buttocks. After the six strokes, I shouted in agonising pain, “I hope you die, you rotten cruel sod!” and got number seven. Gunner Marten died during the war about four years later. I was unmoved. Christmas in HNA was over. Our total excitement had consisted of two church parades, an apple, an orange, and cake. Where was Charlie Dickens? What a pity he missed out on this place.

Excerpt from memoirs... 99% true. Vest Daily Gaggle.

A Merry Christmas Everyone...Here’s the link to the video - https://www.dropbox.com/s/2w73rbjcd1m2jnc/joyeux-noel.mp4?dl=0

Christmas Shopping..

.Christmas shopping for me these days hold few qualms, no lists and no what can I give is made simple by giving a monetary gift, providing of course should they visit their aged 93 year old grandfather if not no deal, in any case, it is now nineteen months since I last saw any of my grandchildren. Their parents will have access to this info shortly.

It seems the Christmas card debacle is over once again. but not without its questionable dealings with the large post office in my local shopping complex. It was on Thursday, November 29 a bad day for shopping being it was pension day for the frail and aged payday millionaires who crowd the shopping centre for their indulgent $4-00 Latte shots and other lavish spendings.

 Having circumnavigated the underneath carpark Several times I finally parked at a car wash section where the guys in charge said it was OK. Thanking them I then walked toward the Entrance and the elevator which was out of order and a two-minute climb was the next obstacle.
Having done the grocery shopping I returned to the car collected my Christmas cards and walked to the post office. On arrival at the post office, I posted a dozen or so cards in the mailing box, leaving ten local and thirteen overseas cards to be stamped and posted
. At the counter I asked the female person for my allowance of seniors local stamps and thirteen UK overseas stamps, she replied they had sold out of the discount stamps ( The same story every time I asked for them at all the post offices I visit). So I purchased ten Local stamps at 65 cents each and Thirteen UK at $2-30 each. I sat down at a table nearby and affixed said stamps but was short of three UK stamps; only ten had been supplied. I returned to the post office and informed them they had shortcomings with the supply namely Three  stamps costing me $6-90 the lady at the counter was adamant that she was right and I was to blame probably thinking I was old and stupid, and I  not pursuing the matter any further purchased another three stamps at a cost of $6-90.. So it seems in the washup of this dodgy deal three recipients of my fifty cent Christmas cards in the UK have nailed me for $4-60 postage each.
It seems a  long time since I have heard the old adage " The customer is always right".

Vest Daily gaggle.

WORDS ON WEDNESDAY.

                                                            The words this week Are                                                         OPERA. RECOMMEND. CHAMPAGNE. EXCITEMENT. SUNSHINE and JAM.

                                          An evening at the Opera.

It was during the eighties when my wife Rosemary and I attended our first Opera- a Gilbert and Sullivan "The Mikado". The tickets had been provided free gratis by a well-heeled business associate; However, The hire of the pretentious costumes was a wallet killer.

Rosemary my dear lady wife could hardly contain her excitement. Still, in her forties, she loved  to flirt a little and loved to be told she was pretty as she really was without a doubt despite mothering five sons

We had previously attended a champagne party in air-conditioned comfort but travelling along George Street in busy Sydney on a hot day in a traffic jam was something I would not recommend especially in a Taxi with faulty airconditioning
However it was mainly a great day, and to see my Rosemary so happy, made my day.
                                                   -------------------
Women are the decorative sex, whatever they have to say, they say it charmingly.

Vest Daily Gaggle.

It is Christmas Card time again

It is this time of the year when you drag out of that special drawer in the cupboard marked XMAS. In it, you will find a long list of friends and relatives who you deem worthy of a message of worthiness like love health wealth and happiness etc There is also a long list of those loving people whom you sent cards to the previous year and a Tick beside the names of those who sent a meaningful message to you.
This is where the bastardry starts, you say to yourself how can I reduce the problems of writers Xmas card cramp?. It is perfectly simple because I like a lot of sensible people will have bundled the last batch of Ho Ho Ho's together by elastic bands. these are placed on the table together with Two different (some cheap) Xmas cards you intend sending to those you received Jollities from the previous joyful year. 
By the time this brain exhausting exercise has been completed, you will find that the list has hardly diminished.  We have lost some by the will of God or have moved interstate or have no more interest in pursuing you for love or money. and then you have the newcomers who will be on your list for years to come. Not forgetting those who will appear for the first time this year most who send late and receive a reply in the new year.
The main reason for writing this load of gobbledygook is that I will have to reduce my blogging to accommodate this extra activity being I shall not be calling on your blog as often as I would  wish to( it doth seem that due to a lack of callers on my blog the XMAS card Madness has started earlier than even I have envisaged. 

Vest... daily Gaggle.

Words title this week is "THE BOARDING PARTY".

Words to be used are Transparent. Solve. Theory. Loot. Take Wing. Demonstrate. Graduate.

My story  Follows
.                               It was on the wedding day, of Princess Elisabeth and Prince Phillip, November 20 - 1947, When at around 9AM Myself and hundreds of another navy men were leaving Portsmouth England for the Mediterranean aboard HMS Illustrious an Aircraft Carrier.

There was no transparent theory other than we were expected to solve the problem of replacing the time expired Navy personnel on several different ships serving in the Mediterranean.

Ten days later I joined HMS Mauritius at Valletta in Malta. Then less than 24 hours later myself and others about 20 in all and All about my size and age, were sent to a training barracks where a very large but amicable Royal Marine Sergeant enlightened us to why we were here.

The sergeant explained he would take us under his wing for the next two weeks and there would be no drinking or smoking and any loot like tobacco or booze would be confiscated; and when you leave here you will be the fittest guys on your ship, maybe some of you will resist but in the end you will benefit.

The sergeant explained we had been selected for boarding parties, the task for your ship was to prevent illegal immigrants from entering the British mandate territory of Palestine, then take them to Famagusta in Cyprus where eventually 1,000 souls each month on a first come first to enter the promised land( The reason for this  being the Palestinian infrastructure could not cope  and as a result which most migrants were blind to would be they would starve to death. should they arrive en masse

We went through a gruelling programme of physical fitness and instruction on how to use batons and pistols. and were suitably dressed for the occasion with boots and gaiters plus shin and arm pads, not forgetting the leather backed helmet and the necessary cricket box to protect our manhood.

We looked and were a tough bunch and Our training served us well, however never was there an occasion where we had to use force it seemed our presence was enough. Plus onboarding we were given packets of cigarettes to hand out to the unfortunate people aboard these boats and ships; who came to realise we had a job to do.

As a result from all of this malarky, the unarmed combat instruction Came in handy and provided with a great deal of confidence particularly when I was confronted with a large Irish guy who for some unknown reason wanted to get me during a drunken stupor He was given the surprise of his life, but oddly Paddy Slavin became in later years an Irish heavyweight Boxing champ(true)

After boarding several vessels including the Pan Crescent with 7,000 souls We finally and thankfully left Haifa on May 14 -1948 amid small arms fire when the ship HMS Mauritius sailed for England.

Vest Daily Gaggle.

I am pictured middle left

GONE GONE GONE

Ninety minutes work Simply disappeared from my blog prior to posting. gone forever.  I am totaly*^!@^_^*# off.
vest

No Words this week.

 Sorry, but I am not feeling well, I feel tired and simply need to rest, Back Soon.
vest daily gaggle.