Playing Tipcat and Other Tales

I lived in Hockley, in Birmingham, during the war. I remember the night our school, at Helen Street, was destroyed by a land mine. We didn’t realise it had gone until we went to school in the morning and found that it wasn’t there any more. Lots of people were killed because they had gone to shelter from the bombing raid in the public shelters by the school. I think it was bombed because it was right next to the railway, probably the Luftwaffe’s target.

I remember going to school and seeing nothing but a hole where it was. Up on the railway bridge I was a parachute hanging and attached to it was another land mine — unexploded fortunately. I remember that the Lozells cinema went in the same raid.

I went to several schools during the war — some were destroyed, others were taken over by groups of evacuees, or children transferred in because their schools were destroyed or taken over for billets. I remember the headmaster of my last school saying to us during one assembly “you lot are being trained for cannon fodder”. That was quite disturbing but I suppose in a way he was right. I left school in 1945, aged 14, and I suppose if the war had gone on, I’d have had to sign up and go off to fight too.

We used to play a lot in the streets. Our favourite toy was a plank and four wheels. I shouldn’t really tell you this but if anyone left an old pram out we’d have the wheels and axles off it straight away. The best were the prams with one pair of wheels larger than the other. The large wheels you’d fix at the back of the plank, the smaller ones at the front. That gave you a bit of steerage. The best run was down Key Hill, Hockley. Straight down the hill, across the main road and onto the flat. We weren’t too worried — the main road was never that busy.

Other times, we’d ride on the railway carts. The GWR depot at Pickford Street had some dray horses that used to pull the carts full of unloaded freight from the trains. As they went past, we’d run along behind, grab the back of the flatbed cart and swing our feet up onto the back axles - then we’d hang underneath, riding the carts. Oh! We didn’t worry about health and safety then.

Other times we’d play Tipcat. Do you know what that is? You needed a small piece of wood, about 4 inches long by 2 inches, chamfered at both ends. You put this on the road and then tap the pointed end with a bat saying: ‘tip, tip, CAT!’ On ‘cat!’ you hit the pointed end really hard and spun the small piece of wood up into the air. As it flew up, you hit it hard with the bat and sent it flying off down the street. Or if it was me, I’d hit it straight into a window. I learnt to run fast playing that game!

While I was a boy, I used to earn 2d a week by running errands for an old lady. I’d collect the batteries from her crystal radio and carry them to the electrician’s shop to be recharged. Other times, I’d go to the pub and fetch her beer in a half gallon jug or to the cookshop on the corner to get her a jug of hot tripe and onions. That cookshop sold hot tripes or pigs trotters and such like. I’d have a little mouthful of beer or tripes on the way home!

I’d spend my 2d at the cinema. We’d go to the Palladium, the Regal, and the Lyric. The Lyric was a bit of a fleapit. On of us would go in and then crawl behind the seats to open the side door and let the others in.

When I left school in 1945, the choices open to me were to work in a factory, a brass foundry or the building trade. I’ve always been an outdoor person, so I chose the building trade and stuck with it.

This story was entered by Jenni Waugh, BBC People’s War Outreach Officer, at the Severn Valley Railway on behalf of Ron Hughes. Mr Hughes is aware of and accepts the site’s terms and conditions.

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