MY FATHER, VICTOR DOUGLAS RAY: PART 1, THE YOUNGER DAYS, 1920-1939...

 My Father: Victor Douglas Ray…

Part 1: The Younger Days, 1920-1939 

NOT OVERLY EXCITED ABOUT HORSE RIDING...

Born on 4th June 1920, my father had older brothers, Bill and Les, an older sister who died in her teens and two younger sisters Connie and Sheila. He was saddled with the middle name of Douglas for some reason, making the initials of his forenames VD, which was rather unfortunate… In later years, his signature included quite a swirl over all but ‘Ray’, so that the V and D were almost illegible…

5 YEARS OLD BUT THE PHOTOGRAPHER FAILED TO GET HIM TO SAY 'CHEESE'... 

I believe that he was a bit of a tell-tale on his younger sisters, which they resented all their lives, for he would inform on them if they wore lipstick whilst out, even though they would desperately wash it off before reaching home.

SHEILA, CONNIE & MY FATHER, 1927...

As a child he made a few pennies for pocket money by collecting pop bottles after meetings at Bromford Racecourse, which were returned to a local shop for remuneration. He and his friends would also find lost golf balls in the grounds of the Penfold golf ball factory across the road from his house in Bromford Lane, where Connie actually worked.

HE LOOKS RATHER WORRIED AT THE BACK...

He attended Leigh Road School, which he usually ran to, involving rushing down the short distance in Bromford Lane to Drews Lane, along the length of that to Washwood Heath Road and then right into Leigh Road, completing a mile and a quarter jog each day, each way… Of course, in a Wolseley office in Drews Lane my mum was working, so their relationship began in their mid to late teens, I guess, for dad had a job on virtually the same site, in the Midland Carriage Works.… 

MIDLAND CARRIAGE WORKS/WOLSELEY...

Dad learned to swim in the canal near Bromford Bridge when he was a boy, which must have been a grimy stretch of water, for it hustled past a variety of factories on its way into Birmingham’s city centre. I guess I should be grateful that he took me on a few early Sunday mornings to Saltley Baths instead, where I learned the breaststroke… 

NORTON BATHS, GEORGE ARTHUR ROAD, SALTLEY...

He excelled at soccer, cricket, drawing, woodwork and arithmetic at school, it seems, for his ball-eye co-ordination was good and he kept up his running but he learned his mental maths through fear from a loathsome teacher at Leigh Road School. 

When he and his classmates heard their form teacher approaching along the corridor, silence fell, for the chap would begin to formulate a short ‘sum’, dictating it from outside the room and continuing as he strolled into it: 

‘8 + 12 – 9 + 7 – 6 = ?’  

Hands would fly up, others remained down but the teacher would pick on any child for an answer, punishing an incorrect retort, or hesitant response with his rapping cane. Attention gained, fear created, the teacher began his day, which had no room for ‘learning difficulties’ or ‘inclusion’. The deaf attended Deaf School, the blind attended Blind School, the badly behaved attended Approved School and the mentally insecure were shoved into asylums…

MY DAD'S SURVIVING SCHOOL REPORTS:

He was in Leigh Road’s school cricket team as a secondary pupil and he reckoned that he was a good bowler but from what he told me, he was rather a ‘favourite’ of the teacher pictured on the image below. He liked batting and in later life he enjoyed keeping wicket for the Britannic area team which played occasional matches. Clearly he thought he was better at it than I was…   

DAD WITH A BAT, MIDDLE ROW, FAR RIGHT...

He used to cycle to the other side of Hodge Hill Common with his friends too, when it was merely open countryside, then have a picnic somewhere near the River Cole and cycle home late in the day. The lads sometimes erected a tent there and remained overnight for a longer adventure. That area, oddly, became Shard End Estate, where he would live for the majority of his insular life. 

ABOVE & BELOW: A CYCLING TRIP TO WOOTTON WAWEN...

He and his peers would also cycle to Stratford-upon-Avon, struggling up the hills near Henley-in-Arden to get there and he loved the camaraderie of those times with his mates. Dad and his chums once went camping to Barry Island in Wales in the mid-1930s, I believe for a week-end and he apparently tasted curry for the first time in Cardiff, where immigrants had begun to settle at that time. The trip must have been his first time at the seaside. 

ABOVE & BELOW: CAMPING AT BARRY ISLAND...

RATHER POSED, FATHER, I MUST SAY...

He had so enjoyed the camaraderie of the lads from Ward End and he had belonged to a Territorial Army unit in his teens, which practised out of premises off Brookvale Road, close to Moor Lane, a stone’s throw from Villa Park and I guess that because of his liking of peer camaraderie and going camping with his mates, the very idea of army life hastened his joining up with the Royal Warwickshire Regiment for the duration of World War II.

He had been working at the Midland Carriage Works, as mentioned above, making parts for tram roofs, after leaving school at 14 years of age. He reckoned that it was the best job he ever had… 

However, his teen years ended with a world war breaking out and of course, like so many others, he moved into a world of uncertainty and strife.

He loved it…