Roberta & Graham - Perble Parade	~1936 Jean, Graham & parents & gran Helen Elliott at Perble Parade	Family ~1936	~1937 Graham & Jean
Jean with her mother	~1939 Jean & Graham		Jean & Graham with parents
Back:William, Nancy & John McIntyre. . Middle: Roberta, Jean & Jonnie McFarlane. Front: Graham & Jean ~ 1945/6 Renfrew	Graham & Jean with father on a visit from him to Crosskeys Wales in 1943	~1943 Graham & Jean billeted in Crosskeys	~1946 Graham & Jean with their parents .Renfrew

Lived in Perble Parade as a young child

1938 They moved to a rented house, 112 Mansell Road Greenford. Later they purchased this. Parents were still there in 1955 when Jean set sail for Australia, and actually stayed there till 1975 when they moved back to Renfrew.

1960. Married Anne Gosling

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Graham & Anne in 1956 . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . & at their 1960 wedding with his Mckendricks, Muirs & Scottish friends . The diminutative lady is Bessie McLellan/Blackburn, born 1884, younger sister of his grandmother, Annie McLellan/Mckendrick, 1877-1919

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Graham with daughter Susan on her wedding day 1984 . . . Graham with son Ian & grandson Robert 1992

With the death of his mother in 1982, Graham inherited the silver fish knife and fork presented to his great grandfather Thomas McCunn Muir back around 1871-1881

Graham's childhood memories.

My earliest memories of my father & life as a child are vague. Dad was a family man who worked hard and loved his sport. I can picture him, with my mother and baby sister and some of their friends playing games at the local park near our apartment in Hanwell. Weekends were, for him, time with the family and we were sometimes taken for picnics, which we all loved. He seemed tall to me at 5ft 11 inches, thin, but sturdy, with a small moustache. He spoke with a soft Scottish accent. Mum’s accent was much more pronounced, influenced by her childhood proximity to Glasgow.

Although born in Scotland, he was, in his early years, raised in India with his elder brother & sister. These were good times for the Muir family. He told us of the antics that he and his brother got up to as young boys. Feeding the local monkeys with bananas laced with mustard. Dropping lighted cotton waste into the external water supply basin that ran constantly flushing the holes in the communal toilets and running away laughing at the cries from within by the occupants as the flame passed each seated hole. Kicking the servants into the bath pool while they were having their riding boots removed. Stealing fruit from the trays supported on the heads of station vendors from their carriage window as the train moved out taking them to Simla during the hot season. They also played pranks on their Nannies by hiding insects in their clothes.

My Grandmother told a story about the family time in India. It was customary for my grandfather to go to his club some evenings. He would be driven there by the Indian car driver & on some occasions he would get drunk and when the car driver picked him up, to take him home, he would sit in the back, occasionally striking the driver, if he went too slow.  One evening when the message came to pick him up the car driver refused to go because “Sahib Muir will beat me with his stick if I go too slow”. My grandmother replied “very well show me how it works and I will pick him up”. Much to the astonishment of the driver my grandmother after instruction drove to the club. On arrival my grandfather was furious, for being picked up by a women driving a car. After much argument he was persuaded to get into the car but on the way home he refused to continue and got out of the car whilst it was moving at the fast speed of 10 miles per hour. He ended up in hospital with gravel burns to his hand and knees. My grandmother was either the first or second women to drive a car in Bombay.

The death of his father and the return to England, prior to moving back to Scotland, when he was a young boy brought an end to the “Raj” era. He told us that he was taken to the Crouch End School in London with his brother on their return to England. As I understood, under Scottish law the eldest son inherited the estate of the father. This meant that he had to be educated for a profession to earn his living.  Engineering was the option that he took, as in his own words he was not good at schoolwork. Perhaps this is where he learnt that the benefits of hard work were rewarded.

His time in Renfrew, where he was raised as a young man and where he met my mother led him into sport. He told us that he played in goal for Greenock Morton football club at the weekends. He also was a very good tennis player and enjoyed, later in life, to play badminton. He was also keen for me to do well at sports, which I too loved, but could not emulate his capability.

The Great War saw his brother enlisting in the Highland Light Infantry. He followed towards the end of the conflict but did not see any active service. He was selected to play football for the regiment and won medals for A company. He had a number of both gold & silver trophies, which later, during hard times, my mother sold. Only one silver medal remains in the family. 

My parents moved from Scotland in 1929 to Hammersmith, prior to their marriage, that year.  This was a necessary move to find work during the recession. They were married at the registry office in Hammersmith, their wedding being witnessed by my father’s mother, now remarried, and his brother “Bob”.  They met another couple, Gladys & George Richards, who were also married that day and they became life long friends. For several years we either went to the “Richards” or they came to the “Muirs” at Xmas, our families enjoying games and walking in the country mainly at Rickmansworth where the Richards then lived.

My father had the opportunity to take a job as a school janitor, but instead opted to join the Glacier Metal Company in Alperton. Here he became established as a millwright installing new machinery and plating plant. He later became the chief millwright of the company serving them for 31 years. His 21 years of service was rewarded with the presentation of a silver plated tea service. This is now kept by my son Ian Muir.

My parents moved to Hanwell to live in a block of flats called Perble Parade. Southall a nearby town is where I and my sister Jean were born. There is a family story that I had an elder brother who was stillborn. In my early years according to my father, he saved me from being thrown out of the window by my furious mother. In his words he had said “calm down Bertha”, his nick name for her, “and give me Graham”. She had been standing by the open window shaking me.  She did and I was safe. It appeared that I had been crying for my lunch and she, being busy preparing a meal for visitors, had put me in the bedroom on the floor. What she had forgotten, was, that earlier that morning she had put a trifle that she had made, in the room to cool. After a while my crying stopped and she thought I had fallen asleep. A short time later she looked in on me and was horrified to find that I was sitting on the floor with the trifle between my legs. My hands were lifting the pudding contents to my mouth, and I was gulping it down with great contentment. My first narrow escape!

I have vague memories of sitting on my grandmother's - this Helen Elliott/Muir/Houston - knee while she taught me phrases of Hindi, which she spoke quite well. I still remember some of them. On one occasion when she visited us we were all taken for a treat to a prominent Indian restaurant in London. The Indian waters were talking to each other when my father was ordering. They were discussing what the old women would order. On hearing this, my grandmother replied, in Hindi, “this old women will have …….” much to their amazement. We always had good service on return visits.

At Perble Parade my parents were friendly with a family called Ellsworth, who lived above our flat. Again picnics were the simple pleasure of the weekends at the local park. Any other venue, for these outings, meant public transport, bus, or on special occasions, a train journey took us there, as owning a car was beyond the family’s budget. At sometime my father had acquired a driving license but never took a driving test and never owned a car until the 1950’s , when he acquired a second hand Lanchester Flying Twelve, with a pre select gear box and fluid flywheel for £30. It took much time for him to get the confidence to drive it and much of my time servicing it.

In 1938 we moved to Greenford, a few miles from Hanwell, where my parents rented a house at 112 Mansell Road. Space was a limitation of the Perble Parade home and there was no garden for us children to play in. It was also nearer for my father to get to work on his bicycle. Our house, at 112, had a garden, a luxury we had not known before, and at the rear it backed onto a recreation park with swings, a slide and a roundabout. We were delighted. I remember my father looking at the walls in the dining room, soon after we moved in, and remarking with disgust about its colour. He soon had it repainted and wallpapered to my mothers liking.

I can remember Dad taking Jean & me to visit Uncle Bob, his brother, at Highgate, and also meeting our twin cousins John & Rona with him and Grandma Elliott. I am very vague as to the date, but it is one of the very few occasions that I remember them all together. At some time after this Uncle Bob disappeared from the family for several years and we lost contact with our cousins. We also visited our relations in Scotland one summer when Jean and I were quite young. It is a vague memory, but I have a recollection of being taken by my grandfather, Mum's father, to the park in Renfrew, where my mother’s sisters lived still. It was not a happy outing as I ran off and fell into the pond, causing a soaking for me and an admonishment for my grandfather. That is about all I remember of my grandfather. He died in 1942, my mother being informed of his passing by telegram. I can see her now weeping after opening the telegram.

I have a good recollection of my father getting us a white rabbit, which he named “Jocky”. He constructed a hutch and our rabbit was kept outside under the glass veranda attached to the back of the house. The garden at the back had a shed and was laid to grass with flower beds alongside the path to the back gate. Jocky was allowed out to roam the garden, until dad caught him eating the plants. So the rabbit was sentenced to stay in the hutch. However, it managed on a regular basis, to get out, confounding my father as to its escape method. He commented that it should have been named Houdini!  This was typical of dad’s sense of humour. Unbeknown to me the rabbit was exchanged for dairy products about a year later as food rationing was introduced. My father told us that Jocky had escaped.

Life was bliss for the young Muirs. This changed in September 1939. I remember my father talking to our next door neighbour as dad  leant on the fence. The discussion, that day, when war was declared, revolved around the need to co-operate with each other and share the vigilance that would be required in the coming months. As it turned out, this meant my father organizing the construction, in another neighbour’s garden, of a “dug out” shelter for the three families.  We all assisted in filling sandbags and digging out the hole for the shelter. Dad was 40 years old now and was not called up to serve in the armed forces. He also had the middle finger of his right hand missing. This had been caused by an accident in the engineering workshop in his youth. Perhaps this is also why he did not pursue a career in football.

Work demands increased for dad as the need for war materials increased. Mum also had to start work at the Aladdin Heater factory in Greenford, which was now making munitions. Jean & I were in the Stanhope primary school at the top of Mansell road. We were dropped off by Mum in the morning and picked up late afternoon when she returned. We seldom saw dad as he was working long hours and was also a night warden patrolling the factory and guarding against incendiary attacks by the German air force. He told us that he used a walking stick up side down to flick incendiaries off the roof of the factory buildings. We saw him mainly at weekends after his Saturday morning work.

He always appeared to be tired and I guess that the stress affected him. He became very strict with me and on several occasions, when I had done something wrong, I was given “the strap”. He never ever smacked Jean. When she had been naughty he always referred her to mum to admonish, commenting “my hands are too big to smack her”. On one occasion, after I had been naughty and was being sent to my room, dad was following me up the stairs smacking my behind as we were ascending. Jean did not like this, but could not think of what to say or do, so she stood at the bottom of the stairs blowing long raspberries at our father.  We learnt later that both our parents were convulsed with laughter after the episode.

Both my parents smoked cigarettes and later on Dad took up the Pipe, which was often in his mouth but not lit. This, in later years, caused him severe health problems. But smoking was a way to relieve the stress that they were both under. It is not surprising that they, with friends, held as many party evenings as time and rationing would permit. Mum loved to dance and dad was pulled onto the make shift dance floor time after time. When at home, we children were sent to bed at the normal time, but we would creep down the stairs sitting on the upper steps listening to the music and enjoying the laughter.

Mum also had to start work at the Aladdin Heater factory in Greenford, which was now making munitions. During my mothers time at Aladdin she met a Scottish women called Mary Watson, who was married to George, another Scot, both from Edinburgh. The two couples became great friends and they met each other, as often as was possible, socialising, have a drink, and playing cards. To Jean & me they were like another Aunt and Uncle. My mother’s relatives were mainly still in Scotland and letters came infrequently and as we had no telephone, communication was difficult. Dad’s siblings were married but contact was occasional. Uncle Bob was separated from his wife and Aunty Ruby lived near Newcastle with her husband. They had no children, having lost a daughter as a baby.

The war was now having a very serious impact on the Muirs. We spent some nights in the shelter, which was at times flooded but still habitable. Other nights we slept in our own beds and on one night the sirens sounded and my father woke me and told me to get dressed and go to the shelter. He then took my sister & mother to the shelter. After settling them down he was speaking to the neighbours when he suddenly became aware that I was not with them. He rushed back to our house to find me fast asleep in my own bed. By now the raid was at its height with bombs falling a short distance away and our Ack-Ack was pounding the bombers. Stray debris and shrapnel were flying from the sky when he carried me to safety. On arrival he took off his fire wardens helmet and showed everyone where the shrapnel had hit it, my second lucky escape.

My third lucky escape occurred at a Monday lunchtime. I sometimes had lunch with a friend at his house and on alternate Mondays he would come to our house. My mother had insisted that, should the air raid warning sound, then I was always to come home. On the way to his house which was on the other side of the recreation park, the sirens sounded. We went our own ways as I said that I must do as I was told. He continued home and was last seen stopping to watch a horse & cart supplying some coal near to his house. I arrived home, to the relief of my mother, and we started lunch, with my sister, all sitting at the French windows overlooking the park. After a few minutes there were several dull crunches from outside and upon looking up my mother stood up. We followed her gaze and saw the houses on the other side of the park just lifting into the air as bombs struck them. As the shock wave hit the window, so it flew open knocking me on the head. My mother grabbed me and my sister and herded us into the cupboard under the stairs. Within a few minutes the thuds stopped, and after a quick visual check, she rushed us both to the shelter in the neighbours garden. This was my third lucky escape.

My father arrived in Greenford that evening after work to find Mansell road and adjoining roads, with all their all approaches, sealed off by the police. They checked the addresses of anyone wanting access. Several men returned to find their loved ones and homes were gone. Dad was allowed access and arrived home to console my weeping mother and frightened children. My little friend, coalman, horse and cart were never seen again, according to the information of our neighbours

Our next door neighbour, a Mr Harry Parker, happened to be walking up Mansell road one day as I stood watching a dogfight, en route to school, between German and British airplanes These aircraft swopped down, the chaser blazing away at his target. I heard a pinging sound nearby and was then knocked to the ground by Harry, who threw his body over me as bullets were flicking up from the pavement. I was unharmed apart from a little bruising. My fourth lucky escape; thanks to Harry. Mum also had a lucky escape one afternoon. I think that she had some time off work and went with a friend to the “Playhouse” cinema in Greenford one afternoon. During the performance the siren went, but she decided to stay in the cinema. Shortly after, the cinema was hit by several bombs, none of which exploded. Apart from a few bruises and a covering of dust they were unharmed and returned home to tell the story. 

School days were a mixture of lessons in the classroom, or when the siren sounded, in the cloakroom, where all the classes gathered with their teachers. When the bombing was near we were all encouraged to sing. We thought this was great fun, not realizing the seriousness of the situation. I think it helped the staff to concentrate on the music and not on what was happening outside. At some time, the year being vague, I was taken to see Westminster Abbey with the school. We were taken into the Abbey which had recently been damaged during a bombing raid on London. The procedure was standard. Hold hands and move along in twos with the teacher leading the way.  At some point and being at the rear end of the column I decided to investigate a side door. I went through into a small ante room which had another door at the other end. So I opened this door and was confronted by a senior cleric who was showing several men the damage to the roof. I was asked “what are you doing here boy”? “Nothing sir only looking”, came my response. “What is your name”? “Muir sir” I replied. “I’m pleased to meet you Muir”, said a tall thin gentleman, who offered his hand, and I shook it. “Do you know who you are talking to Muir” said the cleric. “No sir” I responded, now feeling nervous. “This is King Haakon of Norway” he stated. “Now return to where you came from”.  I did and was told by my teacher not to stray again. No one believed me when I told them I had been talking to a king!  Eventually the decision was made to evacuate the school and my parents had to come to terms with being separated from us

I think it was in the autumn of 1942 that we were evacuated to Crosskeys, NW of Newport, Wales. Most of the school pupils were taken to Paddington station as evacuation was not compulsory. I remember the tearful goodbyes before boarding the bus that took us to the station. As the eldest, I was given strict instructions by dad not to let go of Jean’s hand. We were all equipped with suitcases, gas masks and labels, with our names, tied to our coat button holes. . That night, on arrival at the billeting centre, which was a school hall in Crosskeys, Risca, we were met by local people who had agreed to take in the “evacuees”. Most of them could take one child, so Jean & I were among the few brother & sister pairs that did not want to be separated. We were given to an elderly women and her spinster daughter, both we learned later were seamstresses. They took us to their home which was in a terraced block, typical of the mining areas of Wales, via the rear alleyway. Jean & I were amazed to see children playing with flaming cans on wires whirling them around. Our accommodation was a sparse room at the top of the house. We were informed that other parts of the house were out of bounds to us. When they had visitors we were shut in our room until they were gone. Schooling had resumed and there were several of our friends attending with the local children. We were not made welcome as we were the “Londoners”. I was soon in trouble with our hosts as I found a way to climb out of the window and shin down the water pipe to a small roof over the outside toilets when we were locked in our rooms. We missed home and Mum & Dad, but had to carry on despite the austere conditions

We were not to see our parents until Xmas that year when they visited us at our billet in Crosskeys Risca. It was just for 3 days, but they brought Xmas presents and some extra luxuries to eat. They returned to London- my mother in tears on their departure.

We did not see them again until the summer of 1943 when they arrived for a visit of one week.  We were taken to Barry Island, a seaside resort near Newport, where we resumed our picnics. I was taken by dad down the beach to see the remains of a freighter that had been torpedoed. Half the ship was lying beached. I told dad that we wanted to come home as the elderly mother and spinster daughter that we were billeted with were not making our stay a happy one. He later spoke to the billeting officer and we were re-housed later that year, Jean being sent to stay with Jones family and I with the Church family. Jean loved her new family, I did not like mine as they were very religious.

During my stay with this family I was made to attend the local Methodist chapel 8 times a week. 3 times on Sunday, Band of Hope on Mondays and different bible classes in the evenings at the chapel. That year I took an exam in Religious knowledge for 14 year olds, passing with a mark of 100 percent. Upon my parents next visit the billeting officer advised them to take me away from the “Church” family. I was duly re-housed with an elderly couple, a Mr & Mrs Hoskins, who were childless and they took me to their hearts as an adopted son. I was now happy here as I got to see my sister more often and did not have to go to chapel any more. I later discovered that the mother of the Church family had spent some time in an asylum as a religious maniac.

It was during my stay here that I found my love of music. One of the other wartime guests was a lady that taught the piano. I liked to sit listening to her playing and when mum & dad next visited she told them that I might be a good pupil. They agreed but said that they could not afford to pay for lessons. She replied that it would be a pleasure to teach someone with an obvious interest in music. So my lessons started and I loved them.
I learnt to play the piano to a reasonable standard & lessons continued after our return to Greenford about a year later.

The pressures on my parents during the war must have been enormous. Working long hours was the norm, with periods of frightening times during bombing raids. Added to this my parents were missing my sister & I. In the end they decided to bring us back, as the raids on London had diminished.  We were very pleased to be coming home and eventually they arrived - early 1944? - to take us home by train. There were sad farewells to our adopted families and promises made to keep in touch. We wrote letters for a while but other interests soon intervened and we lost contact.

Our arrival back in London was heralded by the advent of the “Buzz-Bombs”.   The shelter that dad had constructed in our neighbours garden had eventually collapsed due to rainwater incursion. The new internal shelters were available and one was assembled in the front room of the house. This is where Jean & I were bedded down if there was an air raid at night. We were joined by mum & dad when there was nearby action. It was a squeeze but we were happy and we lay awake listening to them relating their experiences at work that day. It was on such an occasion that I remember my father saying to mum that, “if we survive this lot we will be one of the lucky families”. Not long after this an anti-aircraft shell landed just outside the front gate, it exploded, peppering the house with shrapnel. The following morning I was busy digging pieces out of the walls for my shrapnel collection.   

The attacks on London from aircraft and Buzz bombs diminished. I still remember watching the odd flying bomb, like a winged rocket, with a fiery tail in the sky. Dad had taught me to count the seconds after the rocket engine stopped. After twenty you were safe if there was no explosion. I never understood why. We were never threatened by the mark 2 rocket where we were living as most I believe fell in inner London. The war finally came to a close with great celebrations for us all. Both school and street parties were organized with families contributing to the “eats & drinks”. It was for mum & dad a time to recover and rebuild home life. Rationing was still severe and a problem as both Jean & I were growing tall. Our sweet ration was exchanged for clothing coupons to keep up with our growing demands.

School life was resumed on a more normal basis. Stanhope primary school now offered school dinners, which Jean & I took, allowing mum to work full time at the Aladdin factory. Dad continued long working hours. For me the time came to take the 11+ exam. I did and passed. I was told I would be attending the Walpole Grammar school in Northfields, Ealing. This meant more expense, because a school uniform, and other equipment was required. My parents managed the extra expense, being delighted that I had made it to the Grammar school.

Holidays resumed. Trips back to Scotland to visit my mother’s family recommenced. In order to assist in funding these visits and my music lessons plus other expenses we took in a lodger, she was an elderly woman called Mrs Durkin. I am not sure how long she stayed and it is possible that her departure was prompted by my rudeness to her, on more than one occasion. I had become a cheeky little boy! This attitude I had developed got me into trouble many times and dad had recourse to punish me by taking the strap to my rear end over his knee.

I believe it was around 1946 that my parents were given the opportunity, as sitting tenants, to purchase our home at 112 Mansell Road. I remember the discussions that ensued about the additional cost per month and could we afford the mortgage of 4 pounds 50 shillings it would take to secure the house. I think the matter was settled when my father had a pay rise and promotion. We became the owners of a house! War damage repairs had been completed mainly by my father and so a new era began with mum still working and dad decorating our house at weekends. I was now of an age when I was given duties by my father. These included cleaning all the family shoes at the weekend, doing the shopping for mum and assisting in the garden, as necessary. Jean also had her tasks, washing up the dishes and generally helping mum around the house. Dad always liked to show me how to do things and I learnt a lot from his instructions.

Dad was still working hard with the occasional Saturday off. His love of sport meant that he would take me to watch our local football team. They were “The Bees” playing at Griffin Park Brentford.  The journey was on his bike with an additional saddle mounted on the crossbar. He cycled and I sat commenting on things I saw that interested me. The bike was parked with hundreds of others in the gardens of houses close to the ground. I loved these times with dad which compensated for the times that I was getting the strap for misbehaving.

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Holiday 1953/54 at Cliftonville nr Margate staying at Guest house. Dad & me back row left 2nd & 3rd.Mum & Mary with George directly behind them, next to person sitting with arms crossed. Jeanette Fulcher, my then current girlfriend sitting bottom left.

In 1947 we were taken to our first sea side holiday. It was a very hot summer and Cliftonville Margate was the chosen location. We stayed at a boarding house with our adopted aunt & uncle, Mary and George Watson who were childless. The first few days were idyllic, swimming in sea, playing ball games on the beach and enjoying the pleasures of a family holiday. Unfortunately I had too much sun and was taken ill with sunstroke & sunburn.  I spent the next two days in bed and after recovering I suffered the symptoms of sunburn, soreness and itching. Dad applied the cool wet towels and Calamine lotion to the affected areas during this time. It put me off sun bathing for years.

During one of our visits to Scotland Jean & I were put on the train to Newcastle. We were met by our Aunty Ruby & uncle Bob from Hebburn. Mum & dad joined us about ten days later and we continued to Renfrew in Scotland. Our stay with Aunty Ruby was at first scary, because we thought she was going to be very strict. As it turned out she was great fun and so was uncle Bob. Not having any children themselves they entertained us with games and trips out to the seaside. They had a very nice home next to the park and my uncle taught me the rudiments of chess, using the large chess pieces in the park. He also introduced me to green bowls. He was a large rotund and jovial man with a sharp intellect. Now retired he had been the Martins bank manager in Newcastle.

Our arrival in Scotland with Mum & Dad was exciting for us, as we were always made a fuss of by our aunts & uncles. We stayed with our auntie Nancy & Uncle John McIntyre. They lived in a terraced house in Blythe Terrace Renfrew. Evenings were spent with them & Auntie Jean & Uncle Jonnie, who dwelt close by, playing card games. The ladies were enjoying a gin & tonic, the men a wee dram, during the evening. Jean & I were allowed to join in the games, which were made more exciting for us as there were a few pennies given to us to play. During the days we went to various country spots for picnics and on several occasions a trip on the boat from Balloch around Loch Lomond, entertained us. Ice creams and soft drinks kept us happy. I remember the thrill of hearing the bagpipes as we approached a small town on our trip. It sounded so mournful but so welcoming.

We spent many happy times with family in Scotland and I remember being taken to visit my mother’s aunt and her husband at Rutherglen, a suburb of Glasgow: this was likely back in 1944. . Aunty Bessie- Elizabeth Mclellan 1887 - was my maternal grandmother’s sister.Mum's mother had died in 1919 when she and her sisters were mainly under 14, and Bessy had acted as a housekeeper/surrogate mother. She married late in life, around forty years of age ~1927? . Her husband Fred had been a Post office engineer when Auntie Bessie was a telephone operator. They were comfortably off and had no children, so again Jean & I were made a fuss of by them. I think Fred was not in the best of health and during this visit my mother and auntie Bessie talked about the possibility that when Fred died- he did so in March 1945, aged 80, -she could come to live with us in Greenford. In due course this happened and we had auntie Bessie living with us for many years from 1946 . She was very short, having deformed legs, but her bustling and energetic personality made up a lot for her short stature. She always referred to me as her big son.

Around 1948 my mother’s brother,Willie, with his second wife Marjorie, returned to Britain. They had been living in Rangoon Burma, where Uncle Willie had been the manager of the Dalla docks on the Irawaddy. The Burmese, having been made independent, now divested themselves of any British living there. They stayed with us in Greenford on their return. It was the first time that we had met Auntie Marjorie. She was great fun and Jean & I took to her easily. She was a good cook and taught me how to prepare a Burmese curry. We spent most of one morning preparing vegetables and meat, mixing spices and making Nan type bread. The evening meal was delicious, but I was exhausted!
Our recollections of Uncle Willie’s former wife & family were remote. I have a hazy recollection of meeting them at their home in Scotland. They had three children- & 2 more who died as infants -, Nancy, David & Robert. My understanding was that his first wife had a mental condition and as my uncle was a first officer in the merchant service, he spent much time abroad. This did not help the health of his wife and the marriage degenerated and divorce finished the union. At some time pre 1939 Uncle Willie decided to settle in Burma where he met his second wife and became the assistant manager of the docks for the Irawaddy Floatilla Company. Aunt Marjorie was a widow having been married to a Burman. They had a daughter who later married a Swiss national who represented Omega watches in the Far East. In later years they visited us in Greenford, with their two children.

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After their return to Britain, Uncle Willie bought a house in Ayr, where we sometimes stayed when visiting Scotland. Family reunions were now even more exciting. As a family we all enjoyed each others company and the love of picnics and visiting different seaside towns made for many happy days. Later, Uncle Willie & Auntie Marjorie were to return to Burma, as the Burmese did not have the expertise to run the dock facility. They went on an 18 month contract initially, this being renewed several times, bringing much financial benefit to them.

Auntie Bessie shared a bedroom with Jean which while Jean was young was not a problem. I had the “box room” as it was referred to, Mum & Dad the other double bedroom. The bathroom was the first door on the left after coming up the stairs and consisted of a bath, hand basin & flush toilet. Except for the kitchen, all rooms had carpets, these having been introduced gradually over the years after the war, However there was no central heating and during the winters the rooms could be cold. Fires were only lit in the late afternoon and after lunch at weekends. When we had visitors the “front room” was used which we all liked because it had the settee and arm chairs. It also had the piano that I practiced on every day. This is where the Xmas/New Year parties were held. The dining room was the most used room where a table, four chairs, side board and two small arm chairs resided.

In addition to Auntie Bessie’s monthly financial contribution and her bedroom furniture she also did most of the cooking during the week as mum was still working at the Aladdin Heater Company. She was a good cook and when Jean & I returned from school each day she would ask us if we wanted “a piece”, this being the Scottish term for a small sandwich, normally bread with some form of spread or Jam. When we went swimming we were always given a “Chittery piece”, something to stop the teeth chattering after your immersion in coldish water at the swimming baths.

Home life was good in general but money was always very tight. In order to have some spending money I did an early morning paper round and worked on a Saturday at the local greengrocers. I later also did an afternoon paper round when I got back from school. This helped to pay for holidays and different school outings. The one thing that I wanted most of all was a bicycle. All my friends had one and I was very envious of them, often pleading for a ride on their bikes. I heard that at the local dump near the Catholic Church on the Greenford road parts of bicycles could be found. After a few fruitless visits I eventually found an old roadster missing two wheels and a chain. It was quite rusty but it was now mine. My father on seeing it told me that if I cleaned it and got the existing parts to function properly he would supply the wheels, chain tyres and lights. Every spare minute I restored the frame, saddle handlebars & brakes. My father true to his word bought me the remaining parts. At last I was mobile! His practical instructions on maintenance stood me in good stead in later years. As an old upright bike it had no gears so hill work was exhausting but leg muscle building was the by product. This helped me when I later started to run for sport.

I tried cycling to my school in Northfields but found the trip tiring as I was now doing two morning paper rounds starting at 6.30 every day. After arriving late on more than one occasion, I was held in detention and told that I must now travel again by bus. By now we had a bus pass so free travel helped with my little world of finances.  I had also joined the cycling club run by the school which proved to be great fun for the others who made quite rude remarks about my wonderful bike. They were always out in front of me on excursions I and my trusty stead bringing up the rear!

Jean was now at The Costains School in Oldfield lane. It was here, I believe, that she met her good friend June Hope. They became almost inseparable and at times made my life frustrating as they were always giggling when I was near them.  Jean and her adolescent hormones made her very difficult at times. Mum, Auntie Bessie & I were the main targets of her attitude. She was still a loving daughter & sister, but at times she could be rude and stubborn. I think that not having her own space at home and year’s later breaking up with her boy friend were factors that eventually led to her decision to leave home for Australia. A visit from Judy, who became our Australian cousin’s wife, finally tipped the scales and Jean became a £10 pound “Pom” in 1955. 

Like most schoolboys I had a passion for collecting things. Shrapnel during the war, traded in for cigarette cards, later swopped for coins. Marbles and butterflies were also passing fads. Finally I discovered Tropical fish. I really loved my tropical tank and spent much time breeding fish and showing them at the Greenford Aquatic Society, of which I was a member. I had also joined the youth club at the community centre and became involved in theatrical productions, singing and weekend camping holidays.

From time to time I refurbished my fish tanks and on one occasion I had repainted the frame outside under the lean-to in the back garden. Having completed the task I was going up to the shed, leaving the frame to dry, when Jean appeared with a brush. “Don’t you sweep up here” I told her, “I’ve just pained one of my tanks”. Her reply was not helpful. She commenced sweeping with dust rising towards my freshly painted tanks. I saw red, grabbing her by the throat and pushing her up against the house wall. She was struggling but my grip was fierce. It was the timely intervention of auntie Bessie that saved the situation, who pulled me away from my sister who by now had gone very red in the face. After a few coughs Jean threatened me with vengeance, which I laughed at. Little did I know how soon it would be before I paid for my “violence”. On retuning from the shed, where my paints were stored, I entered the kitchen. I was vaguely aware that someone was behind the door. The next thing I new was an explosion in my head. Jean had just laid me outwith the frying pan! Auntie Bessie was furious with Jean and it was agreed that our behavior would not be reported to Mum & dad when they returned. I certainly realized that I had developed a temper. I was well into my twenties before I was able to control it.

School days were progressing, but I was not making much effort. I was a day dreamer and not good at concentrating during lessons. I found them slow at times and the method of teaching boring. This lack of effort saw me relegated to the “also ran” class. When I did focus, I soared up the place ratings in most subjects. My head was still full of sports activities, flying aero-planes and going to different places. At the community centre a series of trials were being carried out on certain children. I was invited to take the tests to determine what they called was my IQ. I did, and over several weeks I sat these tests. I was informed later that I had a rating of over 140. This meant nothing to me at the time, but I assumed it meant I was bright.

 The one thing that I did enjoy was the formation of a school orchestra. Although I played the piano at a reasonable standard for a 14 year old, I had a desire to learn the Saxophone. This was an instrument that I enjoyed listening to, when played by people like Freddie Gardner. My piano lessons had ceased as doing homework, practicing the piano for an hour after school and wanting to get out, to play cricket or football, had caused a time problem for me. The school had provided a B flat tenor Saxophone and I enjoyed learning to play the instrument. When, after about a year, the orchestra was competent to put on a performance we played at the Ealing town hall. The main piece, in which the Saxes and Trombones played a duet, was Handel’s Water Music. It was a great success.

Like my studies, I did not put in as much effort into my sporting activities. I was, I believe, a disappointment to my father for not achieving a school blue for football, although I did play Basketball for the school and Middlesex under 15’s. I was by now, the tallest boy in the school at 6 foot. Discipline at school and at home was still in evidence and I received a taste of it on more that one occasion. These were mainly detentions at school and dad taking the strap to me for misbehaving or not going to Sunday school at the church near the park, at the top of Mansell road. By now dad and I were at loggerheads over various things, with Mum referring me to him when I had transgressed while he was at work.

Things came to a head one Sunday during the autumn. Jean & I were sent off to the church, which I thought was a waste of time. We went, but instead of returning home afterwards, Jean went to her friend’s home and I went to the park, where I joined in a game of football.  On my return home my father wanted to know where I had been. “To Sunday school”; I replied. "Don’t lie to me” dad responded, “look at your shoes”, which had mud on them. “I went to the park after the class dad” was my reply. “Do not compound your lies further, just get the strap” This, I did, and followed him up the stairs to my room, where I was instructed to bend over. “I am telling the truth” I responded, but to no avail. I was already fuming at being called a liar, when he lifted his hand to strike me. I turned in fury and punched him on the nose, knocking him to the floor with blood streaming down his chin. He was so shocked that he sat there looking at me and said “if you are big enough to hit me like that you are big enough to know right from wrong”. That was the last time he ever hit me for misbehaving or being rude.
Years later he confessed to me he was terrified I was going to punch him again when he had been floored. Out relationship improved over the next years, but even as a maturing student he would rebuke me if he thought my behavior was inappropriate.

My mother’s love of dancing led them to join an “Old Time Dancing” group, which also included Scottish country dancing. I and my current girl friend, if I had one, went with them. They always were with George & Mary at these functions. They all joined the local Caledonian Society and spent many happy hours with other Scots at dances, Burns suppers & Hogmanay dinners. Dad became the president of the local Caledonian Society and represented them with Mum at the London association’s dinners. These activities continued until ill health overtook him in his late 60’s. Xmas & New Year, when we gathered together, were for me the best times. We always had parties with games and a sing-song around the piano. Several of my friends joined us on Boxing days and they were always impressed with the fun and good humour of the Muirs and their friends.

It was, on reflection, my father that administered treatment to me when I was not well. My mother made me comfortable when I was confined to bed, bringing food and drinks and kind loving words, but dad brought the medicine and treatment. I remember all to well when I was struck down with Mumps. It had progressed to the second stage and I was in agony, with swollen testicles. The doctor visited and prescribed hot fomentations on the affected parts. My father, accompanying the doctor, was told to apply the remedy twice daily. When the doctor left he turned to me and said “I have never seen bloody balls that size before”. This was the first time I had ever heard my father use strong language. The application over the coming week was as painful for him as it was for me.

He was always practical. When my mother wanted a clothes washing machine, he baulked at the price. I will make you one was his response. A few weeks later he came from work with a series of copper tubes drilled with small holes. The tubes connected to a pipe into which you could plug the exhaust from the Vacuum cleaner. When switched on, and immersed into soapy water in the sink, it generated a turbulence that agitated the washing in the sink. My mother was not at all happy with the cheap solution!  A proper washing machine soon followed the event.  Even my 21st Birthday present was practical. It was a slide rule for my engineering finals.

Dad’s love of football was still very strong and he had played badminton for several years at his works sports facility. We still went to the occasional league football match at Brentford , Chelsea or Tottenham. The Annual England versus Scotland fixture at Wembley was a must if tickets could be obtained. He had a contact in Scotland who seemed to be able to get tickets and I often wondered if it was from Greenock Morton his old club. In 1966 I was able to take him to the World cup games at Wembley. He was delighted and together we watched all the games and the final. What an experience for us to share together.  

 It was not until I returned home, for my first leave, after joining the RAF that he welcomed me back and invited me out to the pub for a drink. This was unusual for him as he was not a “pub” man. Although, as a child and as a youth, I was chastised by him, I still loved him dearly and my lasting memories of him, in later life, when he was very ill, was of a gentle man, a hard worker, who loved his sport, but most of all, his family.

My mother was also showing signs of forgetfulness. Soon she too was declining with advancing dementia. I was now married and living quite a distance from them. On one evening in 1971 I went to see dad, who had been poorly, and was confined to bed. Auntie Bessie went out, crossing the road, to visit, our neighbour, Mrs Leech. I was up stairs talking to dad when we became aware of flashing blue lights outside the house. Investigation showed police cars and an ambulance with neighbors wondering what had happened. It transpired that Auntie Bessie, on crossing the road, had been knocked down and killed. Dad was devastated and mum could only look on in bewilderment. He was almost in tears and had to be restrained from getting out of bed. It was a sad loss for our family; Auntie Bessie had been loved by all and had contributed so much to the happiness of our life.

Life for me in the 50’s had taken some unusual turns. My chances of going to university were remote as my parents could not afford to support me for the two or three years of my studies. I was not academic enough to get a scholarship at one of the few universities that were prepared to take in the poorer students. So it was decided in discussions with my father, that I too should go into engineering. I was accepted by the EMI as a mechanical engineering student and offered an apprenticeship for 5 years. This was like a sandwich course part time in industry and part time at a college of technology. The first year was full time at the college studying on the ONC-HNC route. This meant four days a week practical engineering and one day theoretical at college. I found the practical engineering activity interesting at first, then boring as we were used as cheap labour in the factory. If you worked hard on the production lines you got a good report. It had very little to do with learning. I enjoyed my time spent in the drawing offices of the company and showed an aptitude for draughtsmanship. By the end of my five years I was qualified as a mechanical engineer and had taken my finals at HNC level. The option arose to then convert to a degree course, but I needed to earn some money and I had had enough of studying.

During my student years I had little time for recreation, other than playing sports. My teenage friend Douglas Hollingshead worked as a marble mason in his fathers business. He was, by my standards, well off. It was he who proposed that we go camping & fishing one weekend. Transport was his motorcycle & sidecar. At first I declined, money being the problem, but he insisted that I join him and his girl friend Jill, for the trip as he would fund the outing. I went and caught my first fish, which was an 8lb Carp. I was hooked! We spent many a happy weekend camping, fishing and dancing at the local bar & dance hall. Never in all the time we were together would Doug accept any money from me for these breaks. He was and remains a good & true friend.

It was now 1955 and I realized that the future was in electronics. As I didn’t take the degree option and I had been deferred from military service I had no option but to do my two years National Service. My aspirations to fly were quickly shattered even though I had joined the ATC at college and had started to learn to fly. My eye had been injured in an accident and despite recovering from the incident it left me with a problem in my left eye. So I decided to spend my time studying electronics & radar for the two years. Not possible I was told. Why not apply for a commission in the engineering branch, I was advised. Can I still study electronics if I do? I countered. No, if you want to do the Radar course then you must sign on for three years. So I opted for the radar course, which gave me a good grounding in electronics. I spent time, after passing out as a junior technician, at RAE Farnborough on research, then to Anglesey on guided weapons trials, before being posted to a squadron at Church Fenton, after refusing to sign on and apply for a commission. I ended my three years at Coltishall and resumed my civilian career as a design engineer back at EMI. I left after about a year and went on contract as a designer to several companies before joining GEC Elliot Automation in Borehamwood.

It was during my time at RAF Yatesbury, in 1956, studying air radar systems, that I re-contacted an old girl friend from Cardiff. We had met on holiday when I had gone with the Greenford youth club to a country house for a weeks sports activity. I was the chairman of the club and assistant youth leader and got to know her in her role which was similar to mine. We had the typical holiday affair which lasted remotely for about six months after our separation on departure. She was at university reading Zoology & Botany. I was having a weekend’s leave in Cardiff, when I contacted her and she invited me to her home. The flame had been re-kindled!  On parting she asked if I could return in six weeks after her exams and a date was set for our next meeting. I arrived on the due date and went to her home, where I was to stay, only to be told that she had gone away for a field trip. I was devastated!  I spent the Saturday walking around Roath Park after booking in at a cheap bed & breakfast lodging. In the evening I went into Cardiff, to walk around the city sights, when I saw an advert for a dance at the town hall for that evening. So I decided to spend the evening at the dance. I was about to leave after an hour of refusals to dance by the local girls, when I saw, coming in, two young girls. One took my fancy immediately and I turned around, went back in and asked her for a dance. She accepted!  This was the first meeting between Anne Gosling & me, who I married in 1960. I have never looked back since.

We lived in Ickenham, West Ruislip when we were first married in a block of flats newly constructed. I worked at the EMI and we had Anne’s car as transport, an Austin A35. We had, shortly after settling in, a lodger, who was my friend from the RAF and our best man at our wedding.  Ian our son was born a year later so Maurice (Ritchie) moved in with his sister who was renting a house in Notting Hill London. They eventually joined their parents who had settled in Newcastle Australia. Sadly we have lost contact with Maurice not having heard from him since he left England. We stayed in Ickenham for about 2 years before moving to Stanmore as I was now working at Borehamwood. Susan, our daughter was born here, and we moved again to Bedfordshire, Harlington.  We were here for about 4 years during which time I studied for a qualification in Computer programming, becoming a member of the newly formed British Computer Society after about two years. I was now working as a technical software support engineer for the company. It was during this time that I interviewed and was appointed as the project manager for a NRDC funded research project. The research was how to overcome the problems that the printing industry had in setting technological books. The Boreham Mills project was based in a converted Water Mill on the River Wyley in Wiltshire and was supported in the main by a printer, (Butler & Tanner), of technological books based in Frome Somerset. After the successful conclusion of the research, mathematics and technical books could now be typeset, using a computer to overcome the difficulties of typographers who did not understand the logic of accurately defining equations on paper.

NRDC insisted that this result be transformed into a product that could be sold to other printers, thus recovering their investment. I was persuaded to leave engineering and get into sales. I loved it! After several courses I became a technical salesman and this started my career in selling technology. In 1969 I was invited to join and help set up a software house specialising in the Graphic Arts Industry. This was based at the research water mill near Warminster and the company’s name was Comprite. Anne & the family after some while joined me and we bought a house in the village of Corsley, near Warminster. We were at first successful and became the number one supplier of computer solutions to the printing industry, using standard PDP8 computers and developing our own software. Eventually cash flow problems resulted in the take over of the company by Software Sciences a major player in software technology. I left the company in 1972 and joined the Harris Corporation, an American company based in Florida USA.  We sold our home and moved to Binfield in Berkshire. It was here that I was taught all about marketing. I started as a UK based salesman covering the UK and Northern Europe. It was also during this time that I studied for and obtained a membership of the British Institute of Management.

During our stay at Binfield Anne revived her skills as a confectioner. She produced works of art for her clients in the form of decorated celebration cakes. She also supplied the Queen’s Silver anniversary cake for Royal Ascot. Later when we moved to Wimbish she set up her own business “Cottage Cakes”. She also demonstrated for the Womens Guild and taught cake icing. When on several occasions I entered my current company for The Queen’s award for either export or technology she made the cakes for the presentation ceremony. She was a great help to me at these presentations enhancing my efforts in obtaining the accolades. 

My results in selling systems led to further promotions and I travelled to North America, Africa, the Middle and Far East as well as Australia on many occasions.  It was with regret that I had to leave the company when the holding company in Florida decided to close the profit centre in Slough. I was offered the same job but I would be based in Florida, I declined because I could not see how I could effectively run a series of distributorships in Europe and the Far East with such a time difference between our working hours. It took me some time to get another appointment, this time with the British printing supplier the Monotype Corporation. I travelled to Redhill in Surrey every day for over two years from Binfield when I was not travelling abroad for them. I was their marketing and sales manager for their new Lasercomp phototypesetter. After applying my marketing skills with other members of a design committee to the product it was revamped and successfully launched throughout the world. The appointment of a new Chief Executive of the group later led to me becoming the general sales manager of the company and sales & marketing director elect. This all collapsed after the C.E. resigned following a bust up at board level. In the ensuing reorganization I resigned and was hired by the former C.E. who was now M.D. of GEC- Hitachi based in Wales. I was contracted to carry out a survey of the European Colour Television market. This took about 3 months to complete. After the report was submitted I was asked if I would join the company. I did not as I was not keen to move to Wales.

After several small consultancy contracts and some time unemployed I interviewed and was appointed to the position of sales manager at a Cambridge based organization named Laserscan laboratories. They had come out of the University at Cambridge and were originally in the field of instruments for measurement in High Energy Physics. Their recent migration into digital cartography was stumbling because of the lack of management know how. Their chairman Chris Peter had been appointed to bring management techniques into place, and he needed assistance in the International sales & marketing area. Lasescan was the first company on the Science Park in Cambridge. The following year I was appointed to the board of the company and we took the company to the market, getting a quotation on the SEC in New York. Anne & I bought and renovated a 500 year old cottage in the village of Wimbish, near Saffron Walden. We rented a cottage near Cambridge, for a period during renovation, and we were visited by our son who was now reading management sciences at Aston University. After graduating he came to live with us at the cottage in Wimbish. Susan our daughter had opted for a career in Hairdressing and beauty treatments. It was while working locally that she met her future husband Paul. We lived in the cottage for 18 years before moving into Saffron Walden about 4 miles from the cottage. I eventually left Laserscan having been quite successful at setting up a subsidiary in Virginia and running a network of distributors around the world. The sales were now over 10 times greater but it was a feast & famine business. The injection of new capital led to the appointment of a new chief Executive, who I knew, so I resigned, knowing that a disaster was imminent, because of his management style. Chris Peter had died and there was little that could be done to change the business quickly.

I spent the next few years doing various consultancy jobs having set up a couple of companies with ex-colleges in the document microfilming and scanning market. I also worked for 18 months for the real time systems supplier at the London Commodity Exchange as a consultant after a contract finished with International Imaging ltd. We had sold the cottage in 1996 and moved into to Saffron Walden. During my years in Essex I had also be active in the political field being the local chairman of the Conservative party. My parents would have turned in their graves as they had been staunch socialists.

We left Saffron Walden in the year 2000 to live in Spain. It was, for us, a good decision. Javea the town chosen by us has given us much pleasure and we have made many good friends living on Montgo initially and latterly now in the Javea Arenal area. I enjoy my singing in the Costa Blanca Male Voice choir as leader of the bass section and playing bridge at the club as well as enjoying the great social life on the Costas and the eating of good Mediterranean food and the drinking of Spanish wine. Long may it continue? All the family enjoyed their visits, including the grandchildren from a few years to the now mature adults that they have become. We see old friends and family on occasions when we visit the UK. Life is quieter now but we still both love it.                 

Over the years and travelling much for work I saw less & less of my parents. Dad’s illness was still advancing and mum’s dementia was getting worse. It came as quite a shock to us and their friends that they had decided to sell the house in Mansell road to move back to Renfrew in Scotland. They left Greenford in 1975 and bought a house in Dean Park Renfrew, close to my mother’s sister Nancy. We stayed with them the following year for a week before having a caravan holiday at Castle Sween in Argyleshire. They loved having the Grandchildren with them but found them tiring. Communication was easier now as they had a telephone so this is how we kept in touch on a regular basis. Dad indicated that he was growing concerned about mum’s health and worried what would happen to her when he died. This we eventually experienced in 1980 when dad, with a weakening heart, collapsed and died.

Auntie Nancy and Uncle John bore the brunt of the situation as mum’s condition was now acute and she was found wandering outside in her night clothes more than once. I rang every week and found her almost incoherent at times. Eventually she resorted to calling her sister Nancy, after I had called, to tell her that, that nice man had telephoned her again. She did not know who I was. We had her to stay with us for a holiday and realized how difficult it was for her sister. All mum wanted was to watch television and eat her toffees and smoke her cigarettes.
We worked with Auntie Nancy and eventually got her into a home for the elderly. This took almost 2 years to achieve. After about 6weeks in the home my aunt called me to tell me that mum had died of a cerebral blood clot. It was a blessed relief for us all, because it had been so difficult to recognize that loving mum in the shell that her disease had left.

All that remained was to sell the house and split the proceeds between Jean & me. It was not much to show for over 50 years of marriage. Jean had mum’s jewelry and I inherited the Muir family silver. This consisted of the medal, a fish knife & fork server and his tea service. We split the family records with photos being divided between us. Jean’s half being sent to Australia where she was now a permanent citizen. Aunty Nancy was given first choice for any furniture and Jean & I gave her money for a good holiday in appreciation of all that she & Uncle John had done for my parents on their return to Scotland

So the end came to a generation of a hardworking Scots family. Sad, in its finality, but they left a legacy of care and affection, of survival under dire conditions and the birth of a new generation of Muirs. It was the lessons learnt from them that I have benefitted from and I hope passed on to both my son and daughter.

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Graham in his 40's working for the Harris Corporation. Graham with with his daughters firstborn, Thomas Graham Coxall

Fanchart