Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:00:25 GMT
At the age of 14 I was returned to London .having been evacuated to Reading on 1st Sept 1939.
It was January 1940, and my old headmaster, who had stayed in London invited me to continue at school to bring me up to scratch to take the Telegram Messenger Boys' Entrance Exam.
Happily I passed and was sent to Mount Pleasant Sorting Office London to collect my uniform in a mail bag, and told to report next morning to Strand Post Office (SRN).
So, in the early 1940,s my career began.
Firstly I was taken under the wing of a reliable senior boy to learn all the walks. Although in the busy West End London, the hardest to learn was in the Covent Garden Area. Market Traders would received telegrams just addressed to their name 'Covent Garden' there were hundreds spread over a large area.
The Dunkirk disaster passed then came the Battle of Britain,
The market was full of horse-drawn carts, lorries, and traders and barrow boys all shouting at each other.
when suddenly everything froze. The noise switched off and everyone was looking 'Above us an air battle was taking place, we could see the vapour trails and hear machine- gun fire, but at that height could not identify friend from foe.
Suddenly a plane was diving with smoke pouring from it, then someone shouted "It's a Jerry". "It's twin engined".
A great cheer went up and continued until it was lost from sight.
I shall always remember that! Then came the Blitz!
Our duties were 8-4.30 and 1.0 pm to 8.15.
The all-night bombing often commenced about 7pm and although we were little more than children, we were expected to await the '"closure1 from CTO and then deliver all the telegrams on our way home.
It was no joke! There was the blackout. bombs and shrapnel falling and guns banging away.
I had a six to seven mile bike ride to my home in Wandsworth London and although we were issued with a steel helmet, it was impossible to pedal like mad wearing one of those, so most of the lads who biked it home left their tin hats at the office
When I arrived home I would dive straight into the Anderson Shelter in the garden, where my mother would have a nearly cold dinner awaiting me.
We were a happy crowd, about 18 lads, most of whom were cadets in their spare time
About that time it was impossible to buy onions in London. Then one hot sunny Saturday afternoon word went around that a market trader had left the gate unlocked on his cage and that there were
boxes of leeks just standing there.
What followed was unbelievable - a file of boy messengers, al1
wearing their long black shiny capes on this scorcher of an afternoon.
They returned with their ill-gotten gains hidden beneath them. There were some happy mums' that night!
As the war progressed, the West End was flooded with Yanks, and and we considered it a lark if, there was a pair of us (sazzing) and we spotted an American officer approaching , we, with our badges ,buttons , shining, and our belts and leggings eel-balled and gleaming would give him a sharp 'eyes left' and throw up a smart salute.
The officer would often acknowledge it with a startled look on his face. What fun!
Just four years after becoming a boy messenger I was called up and became an 'erk in the RAF, again for four years, three in the far east.
Finally nearly all erks had a nickname and I carried mine throughout my service "Gippo" - (GPO)....
I ended my days with BT in 1982, when all Telegraph staff became redundant, as a supervisor at the THQ Message Control Centre in Gresham Street London
I am now 82,and have had a wonderful working life with the GPO & BT......
George Weston
It was January 1940, and my old headmaster, who had stayed in London invited me to continue at school to bring me up to scratch to take the Telegram Messenger Boys' Entrance Exam.
Happily I passed and was sent to Mount Pleasant Sorting Office London to collect my uniform in a mail bag, and told to report next morning to Strand Post Office (SRN).
So, in the early 1940,s my career began.
Firstly I was taken under the wing of a reliable senior boy to learn all the walks. Although in the busy West End London, the hardest to learn was in the Covent Garden Area. Market Traders would received telegrams just addressed to their name 'Covent Garden' there were hundreds spread over a large area.
The Dunkirk disaster passed then came the Battle of Britain,
The market was full of horse-drawn carts, lorries, and traders and barrow boys all shouting at each other.
when suddenly everything froze. The noise switched off and everyone was looking 'Above us an air battle was taking place, we could see the vapour trails and hear machine- gun fire, but at that height could not identify friend from foe.
Suddenly a plane was diving with smoke pouring from it, then someone shouted "It's a Jerry". "It's twin engined".
A great cheer went up and continued until it was lost from sight.
I shall always remember that! Then came the Blitz!
Our duties were 8-4.30 and 1.0 pm to 8.15.
The all-night bombing often commenced about 7pm and although we were little more than children, we were expected to await the '"closure1 from CTO and then deliver all the telegrams on our way home.
It was no joke! There was the blackout. bombs and shrapnel falling and guns banging away.
I had a six to seven mile bike ride to my home in Wandsworth London and although we were issued with a steel helmet, it was impossible to pedal like mad wearing one of those, so most of the lads who biked it home left their tin hats at the office
When I arrived home I would dive straight into the Anderson Shelter in the garden, where my mother would have a nearly cold dinner awaiting me.
We were a happy crowd, about 18 lads, most of whom were cadets in their spare time
About that time it was impossible to buy onions in London. Then one hot sunny Saturday afternoon word went around that a market trader had left the gate unlocked on his cage and that there were
boxes of leeks just standing there.
What followed was unbelievable - a file of boy messengers, al1
wearing their long black shiny capes on this scorcher of an afternoon.
They returned with their ill-gotten gains hidden beneath them. There were some happy mums' that night!
As the war progressed, the West End was flooded with Yanks, and and we considered it a lark if, there was a pair of us (sazzing) and we spotted an American officer approaching , we, with our badges ,buttons , shining, and our belts and leggings eel-balled and gleaming would give him a sharp 'eyes left' and throw up a smart salute.
The officer would often acknowledge it with a startled look on his face. What fun!
Just four years after becoming a boy messenger I was called up and became an 'erk in the RAF, again for four years, three in the far east.
Finally nearly all erks had a nickname and I carried mine throughout my service "Gippo" - (GPO)....
I ended my days with BT in 1982, when all Telegraph staff became redundant, as a supervisor at the THQ Message Control Centre in Gresham Street London
I am now 82,and have had a wonderful working life with the GPO & BT......
George Weston