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MY MOTHER’S FAMILY BACKGROUND

THE BRETT / DUNSDON’S

My mother, Florence May Mills, (née Dunsdon), was born in 1905 and died in 1985.  Her ancestors, from the early 1800’s, lived  in the areas of Bethnal Green, Stepney, Shoreditch, Islington, Hoxton and Clerkenwell ---- in North London ----all of which were noted for their high degree of poverty.

During the 19th century, London grew rapidly.  From the 1840’s to the 1850’s alone, it is reckoned that some 330,000 migrants came into the capital, which represented about 17% of its total population at that time.  At first, most of them came in from the Southeast of England, but as the century progressed past its halfway mark, with agriculture in crisis, people came in from other parts of the country.  Mostly they came to the capital in the hope of finding suitable work, but also, the thoughts of brightly lit streets, music halls, theatres, and the sight of busy crowds attracted them.  It was a place that was so different from the rural area in which they lived ---- dark muddy places, without the glimmer of gas lamps, and with absolutely nothing to do.  Naturally, people were attracted to its hope of a better life ---- but as the old saying goes, ‘All that glitters is not gold’!

Even in today’s 21st century, people from all over are still attracted by London’s job opportunities and its bright lights.  Yet, despite its abundance of people, jobs, and appealing life-styles, if you happen to be jobless, homeless and penniless, it can be the loneliest place in the world, and one could still be living in squalid conditions in certain parts of the capital.

Therefore, the areas in which my mother’s forebears lived probably left a lot to be desired.  They were densely populated, with areas of unimaginable poverty and squalor.  Very few working class people, at that time, actually aspired to owning their own homes, and more often than not, families would rent rooms to live in.  Sometimes there could be several families living in one house; sometimes as many as fifteen to twenty people, in a house which had no running water and poor sanitation.  All water would have been collected from a communal tap in the yard outside, and there would be just one outside toilet ---- or ‘privy’ as it was sometimes known ---- to be shared by the whole household. Bathrooms, as we know them, just didn’t exist for ordinary working class folk.  The houses were not really subject to any building regulations, and consequently their construction was poor.  The oldest houses were rotten from age and neglect.  They were damp and draughty.  Windows that had been broken, were sometimes boarded up, or covered with sacking to keep out the worst of the weather.

Every part of a house would have been let, even the garrets and the cellars.  Right up until the 1900’s the conditions in London’s tenements were atrocious.  A room at the top of a tenement in Bethnal Green, effectively an attic in the roof space, was entered through a trapdoor above the staircase, and was rented out at 2s.6d a week, which was roughly equal to 13p.in today’s money.  To rent two rooms immediately below the attic room would have been about 5s.0d, or 25p.  in today’s money (2007).

Whether or not my mother’s ancestors actually lived in such accommodation is not certain, but they most certainly lived in areas that were noted for their poverty.  However, having said that,  ‘family legend’ has it that after my maternal grandmother married in 1894, she and her husband, lived in a large house in Hoxton, in some degree of comfort.  Personally, I am not too sure that was entirely true, but I will come to that later.

At the time of writing, the earliest known relatives on my mother’s side, were James Bouchard and Sarah Sully.  They married on the 26 July 1801, at Spitalfields Christ Church, in Stepney, and are my 3 times Maternal Great Grandparents.  I don’t know how many children they had altogether, but I do know, that a daughter, born some three and a half months prior to their marriage, was destined to become my 2 x Maternal Great Grandmother.

That daughter, Sarah Bouchard, was born on the 6 April 1801, and was christened a year later, on the 25 April 1802, at St. Matthew’s Church, Bethnal Green.  In the due course of time, aged 30, she married Lewis Banfield, a shoemaker, on the 10 October 1831. They were married in the same church that her parents had been married in some thirty years earlier.

Their marriage produced at least five children, although sadly one of them died at a very young age.  The children were: -

As can be seen, the last of those five children was a Louisa Banfield who ---- according to her birth certificate ---- was born on the 25 May 1839 at No.9, George Gardens, Bethnal Green (Could this be George Street? map).  Exactly what that house and its immediate surroundings were like, is something I haven’t discovered. However, there was an area, little more than half a mile away from where she was born, which was at the junction of Shoreditch High Street and Bethnal Green Road, known in the mid to late 1800’s as ‘the old Jago’.  Towards the end of the 19th century it was considered one of the roughest and poorest places in London’s East End.  A novel published in 1896, entitled A Child of the Jago by Arthur Morrison, brings to life the horrors of living in that slum, as seen through the eyes of an 8 year old boy.  It paints a depressing picture of the daily occurrences of robbery and violence, and the boy’s attempts to extricate himself from such a life in those surroundings.

Whether or not Louisa’s childhood was spent in a similar area is something I will probably never know.  Judging from a photograph of her, possibly taken in early middle age, she looks to have been quite attractive and there is nothing to suggest from the picture that she was living in abject poverty at the time it was taken.

It would seem, although I have yet to get a copy of her marriage certificate confirming the fact, she was about 20 years old, when she married in the latter part of 1859.  The man that she married was a butcher, called Samuel Monkton.

As yet, I do not know where they lived after they got married.  Although, thanks to my cousin Peter Bailey, he discovered that our mutual Great Grandparents, Samuel and Louisa Monkton had at least six children, all of whom were christened at the Church of St. John the Baptist, in Shoreditch.  The names were as follows: -

Other than the fact that all the children were christened at St. John the Baptist’s Church at Shoreditch, I know very little about them, particularly the first four on the list.  Moreover, it is only thanks to my eldest cousins, Joyce Stone (née Brett) and Peter, that I know anything about Elizabeth and Lewis.

Lewis Monkton grew up to become an undertaker, who married and lived with his wife, Rose, and their two children, in a large house in Camden, close to Regent’s Park.  Both of my cousins, Joyce and Peter, can recall visiting their home.  Unfortunately, at this moment in time, neither of my cousins can remember when our Great Uncle Lewis died.  Since cousin Peter wasn’t born until 1930, it is likely that Great Uncle Lewis was still alive until well into the 1930’s.  According to cousin Joyce, who, being some 8 years older than Peter, recalls Great Uncle Lewis as being a jovial man, and was said to have died laughing, having cracked a particularly funny joke to his family who were gathered at his bedside.

Apparently their daughter Alice, was ‘very clever and had class’ ---- according to Cousin Joyce ---- and was one of the secretaries that worked for Churchill during the Second World War.  She is said to have travelled to Washington and Yalta with him, where saw President ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt and Russia’s Joseph Stalin.  Alice also worked at 10, Downing Street, up until Harold Wilson became Prime Minister (1964 –1970), when she left, because ‘she couldn’t stand the man’. Nothing much is known of her brother, but it is believed that he worked as a detective with Scotland Yard.

Elizabeth Monkton, my maternal Grandmother, was born in a house at 43, Dorchester Street, Hoxton.  Again, I am not 100% certain what sort of conditions actually prevailed in the house and the street where Elizabeth was born.

In the 1800’s a man called Charles Booth carried out a survey of London’s population and produced a map showing the conditions in various areas.  The houses in Dorchester Street, Hoxton, with its neighbouring environs of Gopsall Street, Newton Street, Hyde Road are shown on Charles Booth’s Map of poverty in 1898 / 1899, as being ‘some comfortable and some poor’.  When I contacted Hackney Archives to get their views on what the area was like at that time, they confirmed Booth’s findings.  They also added, that ‘if families had money at that time, it most certainly wasn’t an area in which you would have chosen to live’.

Another book, entitled A Hoxton Childhood, and written by a man called A. S. Jasper, deals with his childhood growing up in the very early 1900’s, near where the Monkton’s had been living. The author had lived at No 3, Clinger Street, which was just a stone’s throw from Dorchester Street, and was described by him as being: -

‘a hovel on the ground floor. It comprised two rooms and a kitchen with an outside lavatory, which also served the family upstairs.’

On another occasion, the author mentions that as a small child his father took him to visit a friend in a block of broken-down tenements in Wilmer Gardens, just a couple of minutes walk from his home in Clinger Street.  Apparently his father’s friend had just lost his baby of a few weeks old.  The tenements were opposite a place known as North’s Lodging House, which was home to all the criminal types in that area.

‘The tenements were set back well away from the road and were rat-infested. To get to the front entrance, one had to cross a vast square of waste ground. In the summer, this was just a dust and rubbish heap. In the winter it was a sea of mud and filth. The front doors of the tenements, or what was left of them, were always open. Dirty and half-starved children were playing in the filth and garbage outside. To get to the flat of my father’s workmate we had to climb a flight of rickety stairs. As we passed the other flats on our way up, I could smell the nauseating odours that came from the rooms. I could hear some of the occupants swearing and rowing, and children crying.’

A couple of years ago, in 2002, when I visited the area where my forebears had lived and raised their children, most of the houses and streets that had been around in their day, had been replaced.  The area had suffered heavy bomb damage during World War II and had been largely rebuilt.  No doubt, the replacement properties were an improvement on those of the late 1800’s / early 1900’s,  ---- but were squat square-blocked unimaginative dwellings, with absolutely no character.  Graffiti was scrawled on every available space and piles of litter could be seen down every side-road and alleyway.  Rats, probably descendants of those that were living there all those years ago, could still be seen scurrying amongst the rubbish.

I have been unable to find out much about the Monkton family after Lewis was born.  For some reason, the family do not appear in the 1881 Census for London, and the next ‘sighting’ ---- as it were ---- is when Elizabeth Monkton married her first husband, James

Joseph Brett, on the 3 June 1894, at the Parish Church of John the Baptist in Hoxton. Their marriage certificate shows that their place of residence at the time of their marriage was at 28, Bacchus Walk, Shoreditch.

That address in Bacchus Walk, was where her husband had spent his childhood, living there with his parents and siblings.  It was a short narrow street ---- no more than 10 feet wide ---- and linked Hoxton Market with Pitfield Street, and was only about five or ten minutes walk from the Monkton’s address in Dorchester Street. Part of Bacchus Walk still exists today, albeit only about a 40 ft length at the Hoxton Market end. The rest of it has disappeared under a housing complex called the Arden Estate.

A check on the address at 28, Bacchus Walk at the time of the 1881 census for London, reveals the following details for the Brett family: -

I also discovered that on that same census night, two other families were also living at 28, Bacchus Walk ----- the Clark’s and the Patterson’s. They were not related to any of our family, but their numbers, with those of the Brett family, totalled seventeen people living in that house.

As can be seen, from the above, the head of the house, Joseph Brett, was a cabinetmaker ----- as was his son ---- James Joseph Brett, at the time he married Elizabeth Monkton.

That area of Hoxton in which they lived was a centre for the furniture making in those days. Unlike today, there were no large factories turning out furniture, instead, the work was carried out in numerous small workshops.  According to family ‘legend’ it is said that James Joseph Brett was a very competent cabinetmaker, and provided a good standard of living for his new wife and their subsequent children.

Apparently, in the early part of the 1800’s there were only a small number of master carvers and journeymen working in London’s East End ---- 11 Carvers and 60 journeymen.  By the middle of the 19th century there were 90 in Bethnal Green and Shoreditch.  Towards the end of the 1800’s an ever increasing number of small workshops were springing up everywhere. They were all competing for the work. Charles Booth had calculated that in the 1890’s that there were nearly 13,000 men, boys and women working as cabinetmakers, wood-turners french polishers, wood-carvers and gilders in areas of Bethnal Green, Shoreditch, Hackney and Tower Hamlets.

A typical workshop at that time consisted of a garret-master ---- a man of modest means ---- that would have up to six people working for him. Although the workshop owner had some capital it wouldn’t have amounted to very much, and he wouldn’t have had any machinery. A small cabinet-maker would work on credit, get his wood cut at local saw-mills, use his living room as his workshop and use his wages to pay off his debts.  Was that the way James Joseph Brett had to work, or was he luckier than most?

It was my Cousin Joyce, who is currently in her 80’s, who had been told that Grandad Joseph Brett, had been a successful cabinetmaker, and that his family had lived in some degree of comfort in the family home at 52, Gopsall Street, Hoxton.
 

She was also told that Grandad Brett had a penchant for gambling and drinking, both of which were to become his downfall.  Apparently, he is supposed to have lost everything, including the family home, betting on a horse which Joyce seems to think was called ‘Brown Jack’ ---- which, to all intents and purposes, is still running!  That bad piece of speculation eventually took its toll of him, as he started to drink more heavily than ever and subsequently died in 1903, in the family home at Gopsall Street.  He was just 30 years old.  After his demise, Grannie Brett found herself with no home, and three young children to support, all of whom were under 5 years old.  Consequently, she then had to rent a room for herself and her children, which Cousin Joyce believes was at 8, Newton Street, Hoxton.  To pay for this, Grannie Brett is said to have taken a stall in one of London’s famous street markets, namely, Petticoat Lane.  The idea was to allow her to sell her possessions to enable her to pay the rent and to buy food for her children.  It is also said that whilst she was selling her possessions at that market, she met up with a market trader called William Henry Dunsdon, with whom she eventually set up home at Sydenham, in Southeast London.

The details surrounding Grandad and Grannie Brett’s life together, as was relayed to Joyce, is certainly very interesting, although I am not too sure just how accurate it is.

My own investigations, have since revealed a difference in the dates that the family would have been living at the two Hoxton addresses, from those which have been mentioned by my Cousin Joyce.  I also have to take with a pinch of salt, the amount of the family fortune that was said to have been gambled away, namely £500,000.  Even today, that would be a fairly astronomical sum to have lost on a horse, but in the early 1900’s it would have been a phenomenal amount of wealth, and would have put my mother’s ancestors into being some of the wealthiest people in London, if not the country.  Therefore, I am more inclined to think that the amount of the ‘family fortune’ at the time it was gambled away was likely to have been a far more modest amount.  Even £5000 would have been a vast amount those days.  Therefore, in my own mind, if there was a family fortune that was gambled away, I am more inclined to think that a figure of £500 might have been nearer the mark.

To be quite honest I haven’t got the foggiest idea of what their standard of living was like in the first few years of their married life.  All that I have to go on is what I have been told, which is that they were financially comfortable, and lived in a large house.  However, what I have read about the area in which they lived, it would seem that it wasn’t a particularly desirable place in which to live.  Moreover, from my visits to the area during the last five years  ----(1999 – 2004) ---- I can see from what remains of the old Victorian buildings/houses that they were indeed very large.  Nevertheless, from census returns of that time, it can also be seen that those properties where our forebears lived, could house two or three unrelated families ---- and sometimes there could be something like 12 to 20 people living in that one house.

Although Grannie and Grandad Brett were married in June 1894, their first child was not born until 1899.  Altogether they had three children, who were named as follows: -

Joyce’s advice that the family home and the house where Grandad Brett died, was at 52, Gopsall Street, Hoxton, definitely does not tally with my findings.  My checks reveal that their three children, were all born at 8, Newton Street, Hoxton, between 1899 and 1901.  The 1901 census also shows that the members of Grannie and Grandad Brett’s family, minus Elizabeth Ada Brett, who hadn’t yet been born, were living in two rooms at the Newton Street address; sharing the house with two other families.  Altogether, there were ten people were living in the house when that census was taken.

Their marriage certificate shows that Grannie and Grandad Brett married on the 3 June 1894, at the Parish Church of St. John the Baptist, Shoreditch.  They both gave their place of residence at that time, as being No. 28, Bacchus Walk, Shoreditch, which as I’ve said before, was the home were Grandad Brett had lived with his parents and siblings.

Two of the birth certificates in respect of Grannie and Grandad Brett’s children, namely Arthur Brett and Elizabeth Ada Brett, indicate that they were both born at 8, Newton Street, in 1899 and 1901 respectively. Although I haven’t seen the birth certificate of their middle child, Joseph Brett, it can probably be concluded that he too, was born at the Newton Street address. Joyce seemed to think that when Grandad Brett died on the 17 October 1903, it occurred in the family home of Gopsall Street, Hoxton. However, although that is the address where Grandad and Grannie Brett were living, Grandad’s place of death is shown as being at the Metropolitan Hospital, Kingsland, North London ---- a mile or so from where they were living at Gopsall Street.

With these little pieces of ‘evidence’, I am inclined to think that the true family home for Grannie and Grandad Brett was not the house in Gopsall Street, but more likely to have been the one at Newton Street.  If so, it would suggest that if the family had indeed fallen on hard times, then they may well have had to move into rooms whilst Grandad Brett was still alive.  Possibly from Newton Street to Gopsall Street, and not vice versa.

It is said, that after Grandad Brett died, Grannie Brett was left with three young children, and no roof over their heads.  Again I’m not too sure about the ‘no roof over their heads’, since they were probably already renting the rooms in which they were living.  However, since there was no Welfare State as we know it today, I do think that there would have been a certain degree of urgency to provide food for herself and her young children.  To do this, she would have needed money!  Therefore, to make ends meet; she is supposed to have taken a market stall in London’s ‘Petticoat Lane’, (Middlesex Street), to sell what remained of the family’s possessions. It was whilst she was working that stall, that she is believed to have met up with a market trader called William Henry Dunsdon. Although it is by no means certain, it would seem that the couple never married, but merely set up home together.  The eldest of the Brett children, Arthur Brett ---- my uncle ---- would have been about 4 or 5 years of age when his true father died, but had distinct memories of his childhood years living in the Dunsdon household, which were far from happy.

From here on, to clarify exactly who I am writing about, I will refer to Arthur’s mother, Elizabeth Brett, as Grannie Brett / Dunsdon.

In his latter years, my cousin Joyce told me that her father made a tape recording for his grandchildren, telling them about his early life.  In that tape, he remembers living in some degree of comfort with his parents and two younger siblings, in a large house in North London ---- at least until the man called Dunsdon entered their lives.

Dunsdon, according to Arthur, and his brothers and sisters, was a terrible man, who was a violent drunk and a womaniser.  On many occasions he would arrive home, much the worse for drink, and could fly into a drunken rage at the slightest provocation, and as a result, wasn’t averse to hitting the children, or Grannie Brett / Dunsdon, if the mood so took him.

Cousin Joyce, said that her father also recalled a time, when he, together with his brother Joe and sister Elizabeth Ada, were all locked in a garret room at the top of a house, whilst Dunsdon and Grannie Brett went off somewhere for a few days.  Whether the incident took place in Hoxton, before they moved to Sydenham, isn’t too clear.  I feel that it probably happened in Hoxton, after Grandad Brett’s death in 1903 and before1905, after which, the Brett / Dunsdon’s are thought to have been living at Sydenham, in South London.  If my feelings are correct, and that was the case, then it would mean ---- that at best ---- Arthur would have been no more than 6yrs.old, Joseph was possibly 5yrs, and Elizabeth Ada, a mere 3yrs old.

Evidently, the three young children remained in the garret for several days, until the people from what would now be the Social Services, rescued them and took them to a Poor House until their mother eventually called to take them home.

My Mum, never mentioned the above incident to me, so whether she was aware of it or not, I wouldn’t know.  However, she did occasionally make mention of Dunsdon’s drunkenness.  She told me, that on occasions when he got home from the pub, if his dinner wasn’t to his liking, he would throw the plate, with his dinner on it, across the room so that it smashed against the wall.  Mum also recalled other times, when, having reeled his way home from the pub, he would stagger through the door and collapse onto the floor in a drunken stupor, sometimes cutting his head in the process.  She said that sometimes, she felt sorry for him when that happened, in case he had hurt himself badly, and wanted to help him up off the floor.  Her Mum, Grannie Brett/Dunsdon, would say ‘No ---- just leave him there to sober up on his own ---- he’s less trouble down there!’

Apparently the neighbours knew what sort of a man he was, and if they caught sight of him staggering home from the pub, they would warn Grannie Brett/Dunsdon of his approach.  Such information was most welcome, since it then gave her, and any of the children that were with her, a chance to beat a hasty retreat over the back fences, to ensure they weren’t at home when he burst in through the front door.

The Brett children were still quite small, when the Brett/ Dunsdon’s moved from Hoxton, to what was to become their family home at No. 7, Edney Street, in Sydenham.

Exactly why the family moved from North London to South London isn’t known.  However, the move must have taken place somewhere between November 1903, after Joseph Brett died, and May 1905, which was when the first of Grannie Brett’s children were purported to have been born, with Dunsdon as their ‘father’.  Grannie Brett/Dunsdon lived there until she died in 1936.

In addition to the three Brett children, Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon went on to have five more children with the man called Dunsdon ---- all of which are believed to have been born at the house in Sydenham.  Mind you, since I have been unable to trace birth certificates for my mother and her ‘twin’ sister, there is a certain amount of doubt concerning when and where they were born.  The five children born under the name of Dunsdon were as follows: -

The above Dunsdon children were half-brothers and half-sisters to the three Brett children, thus making eight children in the Brett/Dunsdon family.
I said earlier that I didn’t quite know why Grannie Brett/Dunsdon and the children from her first marriage had made the move from Hoxton to Sydenham with the man called Dunsdon.  
However, whilst practising on how to negotiate the 1901 Online Census, I made a discovery that may go some way to explaining why the family might have made that move ---- although I have to admit, that for the moment, I cannot really ‘prove’ my theory.
To add purpose to my practice session, I decided to try and find out if our maternal great Grandparents, Samuel and Louisa Monkton were still alive in 1901; and if so, where they were living at that time.  Great Grandad’s name never showed up anywhere, and I haven’t been able to confirm to my satisfaction, the dates of his birth, marriage or death.  
However, Great Gra

ndma Louisa Monkton's name did reveal itself, and I found her name included in the household of a family called Shilcock, who were living at 152, Malham Road, Forest Hill SE23, in 1901.  Strangely, Malham Road was literally just around the corner to where my wife, Barbara and I lived in Stanstead Road, where we had our first home.
The family name of ‘Shilcock’ meant absolutely nothing to me, so I was curious to know if the Louisa Monkton was the ‘right’ one.  The 1901 census return showed that she was 61 years old, and was a widow who had been born at Bethnal Green in London.  The age and place of birth was in keeping with what I already knew about Great Grandma, and the fact that she was a widowed lady went some way to explain why I hadn’t found out anything about Great Grandad Monkton.
A further examination of the census return showed that she was the mother-in-law to the Head of the House, namely William H. Shilcock, a carpenter, aged 41 ---- and a widower.  

Altogether, living in that house on that census night in 1901, were: -

William H. Shilcock     Head    Widower 41 yrs  Carpenter
Harry   Son     -       14 yrs  
William Son     -       11 yrs  
Louisa  Daughter        -       9 yrs   
Elizabeth       Daughter        -       8 yrs   
Walter  Son     -       6 yrs   
Louisa Monkton  Mother-in-law   -       61 yrs  
Violet E. Sydney        Niece   -       23 yrs. 

During the 1800’s and early 1900’s it was common practice for parents to name their children after the more senior members of their relatives.  If one compares the above list of first names with those of Great Grandma Louisa Monkton’s children ---- as shown on page 7 ---- there is a great similarity between them, and gives me a certain degree of confidence that the 61 year-old Louisa Monkton is my maternal Great Grandmother.
So, assuming that is the case, the head of the household, William H. Shilcock must have been married to Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon’s sister Louisa, who had died sometime after the birth of her youngest child Walter Shilcock, who was probably born about 1895.
Perhaps, if Great Grandma Louisa Monkton was already a widow herself when William’s wife died, then maybe it was politic for her to move in with her son-in-law to help bring up his young children.  Is it possible that that is what happened?
The young lady, Violet E. Sydney, named

at the bottom of the William Shilcock’s household as his niece, also appears on an earlier census return for 1881.  On that census, she was only 3 years old, and living with William, his widowed mother Hannah, his brother Joseph and two sisters Frances and Alice at 37, Dante Road, Newington, Camberwell.  In 1881 she was described as being the granddaughter of Hannah Shilcock, so one presumes that she must have been the daughter of one of Hannah’s daughters.  If she belonged to either Alice or Frances, the chances are Violet was illegitimate, as both Alice and Frances were shown to be unmarried and still bore the family name of Shilcock.  Alternatively young Violet might have been an orphan, from another unnamed daughter of Hannah’s who had married someone with the surname of Sydney.
So, if Great Grandma Louisa Monkton had moved from Hoxton to Forest Hill to help bring up her son-in-law’s children, the chances are that Grannie Brett/Dunsdon ---- also having lost her first husba

nd ---- could well have decided to move so as to live closer to her mother.
As I said earlier, I don’t know if this could actually be why Grannie Brett/Dunsdon moved to Sydenham, but it is a distinct possibility!
My Cousin Peter recalls Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon’s house at 7, Edney Street, from his childhood.  The street itself was a cul-de-sac.  The house, with its front door opening out onto an unmade road, was very small.  It comprised just two bedrooms upstairs; two rooms downstairs, an outside toilet, and no bathroom.  By the time of the First World War in 1914, the house accommodated a total of ten Brett / Dunsdon’s ---- eight children and two adults.  It must have been very crowded in there!  
The first of the Dunsdon children thought to have been born in that house, were my mother, Florence May, and her twin sister Ellen Barbara, on the 17 May 1905.  I use the word ‘thought’, because there seems to be some doubt as to whether they were indeed tw

ins, or whether they both shared Dunsdon as their father.  Unfortunately, their births do not appear to have been registered, and the only person that could probably have shed some light on the matter, took the ‘secret’ to his grave ---- namely my mother’s eldest brother, Arthur Brett.  
Mum, had always suspected something was amiss with her birth details, and was sure that her brother Arthur knew about the circumstances surrounding her birth, but wouldn’t tell her.  My Cousin Joyce, Arthur’s daughter, who was a solicitor ---- or something to do with the legal profession ---- was at one time tasked by my Mum, into trying to get a copy of Mum’s birth certificate, but was unsuccessful.  Joyce tackled her father about it, but he never even divulged it to her.  I don’t think the fact that she didn’t know bothered Mum too much, but I think it is a little sad that she died, aged 80, without ever knowing the ‘truth’.
 

My own thought, was that perhaps, because Dunsdon and Grannie Brett / Dunsdon had never married, that might have been the reason my Mum and her ‘twin’ sister were never registered.  Was it a ‘social stigma’ thing, which caused them not to be registered?  However, I’m not too sure that that was really the case, since three more children were born after them, whose births were officially registered.  The other three children were: Georgina Mary (1907); William Henry (1910); and James E. (1912).
Joyce seems to think that my Mum, was the product of a passing tallyman who called on Grannie Brett/Dunsdon, to collect what was owed him, and accepted what was on offer, in lieu of the cash.  Cousin Joyce does not have anything good to say about Grannie Brett/Dunsdon as a person.  No doubt, it stems from the knowledge that she allowed the three young Brett children to be locked up in a garret-room, and then left them there for several days, whilst she went gadding off with the man called

 Dunsdon.
Joyce, being the eldest of my cousins by at least ten years, is one of the few cousins that had first hand knowledge of Grannie Brett/Dunsdon.  Joyce’s recollections of her are not very complimentary, and reckons that she was a very promiscuous woman, who wasn’t averse to taking her men-friends upstairs to the bedroom, whilst the other members of the family were out of the house.  Joyce has told me, that when she was a young girl herself, and Grannie’s men-friends came calling, Grannie would tell her to keep a watch on the people coming down the road, just in case someone from the family came home unexpectedly, and caught her in the ‘act’.
My old Mum never ever had a bad word to say about her own mother, and certainly gave me no indication of Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon having had relationships with other men.  Mind you, as I said earlier, she did have some misgivings surrounding the circumstances of her own birth.  However, even with the possibility of bei

ng born illegitimately, she only had kind words to say about her mother.  In fact, I rather got the impression that she felt somewhat sorry for Grannie Brett / Dunsdon, and the way that life had treated her, especially in last year or so of her mother’s life.
Joyce was born in 1922, when my Mum was about 17 years of age.  Bearing in mind, if Joyce had been initiated into her job of ‘keeping watch’ at the early age six, it would have meant that my Mum would have been at least 23 years old.  I personally, find it hard to believe that my Mum, at the age she was, or for that matter, her other brothers and sisters ---- who were still living at the house in Edney Street ---- never knew about Grannie Brett / Dunsdon’s relationships with other men.  Like I said, Mum never mentioned it to me, and from the odd conversations about Grannie Brett/Dunsdon, that I had with my various aunts and uncles in their latter years, they too gave no indication of knowing about their mother’s men-frien

ds.  The only information forthcoming from any of them, was how dreadful the man Dunsdon was.
The business of whether my mother and her sister Barbara Ellen ---- (k/a ‘Nellie’) ---- were twins, is still a mystery.  They most certainly weren’t identical in looks, although they did have similar looks and characteristics to their other siblings.  Nellie, was the mother to my cousins, Kathy, Georgina and Tony, who like me, have never been able to obtain a copy of their mother’s birth certificate.  Both of the sisters went to their graves believing that they were twins.  There is even a photograph of my Mum, her sisters Nellie, Georgina and ‘Big’ Dolly, with their boyfriends having a picnic.  They all look to be in their late teens to early twenties.  On the reverse of the photo, Grannie Brett / Dunsdon has written the words ---- ‘These are my girls with their boy- friends.  The two in front, (meaning my Mum and Nellie), are twins.’
Who, I wonder, was that piece of in

formation meant for?  Why was it necessary for Grannie Brett / Dunsdon to specifically state that they were twins?  Surely, if they were not genuine twins, at the ages they were, was it necessary to add that comment?  There is, of course, always the possibility that my Mum, and her

sister Nellie, were a pair of illegitimate twins, and that the man Dunsdon was never aware that he was not their true father.  Who knows?  I don’t suppose I will ever know exactly who Mum’s father was.  Nevertheless I will continue checking whatever records are available to see if I can substantiate who he might have been.
Mum told me that her childhood was one of poverty.  Her schooling seemed to hinge on how much help Grannie Brett / Dunsdon needed to run the house for such a large family, and whether there were any shoes for Mum to wear.  It would seem that shoes were virtually non-existent in the Dunsdon household, and she and her sister Georgina (k/a ‘Georgie’) used to have only one pair of shoes between them.  Hence the reason, only one of them could go to school at a time.  She always reckoned that she was neither well-fed nor properly clothed during her childhood, and thought that her early life was a contributing factor to her poor health throughout her adult life.

I also seem to remember being told that Joe, the second of the original Brett children, did some deliveries, or odd jobs for the family of Ernest Shackleton ---- the Antarctic explorer ---- who were living in Sydenham at that time.  On one occasion, Joe was given a pair of boots to wear, and proudly took them home to Edney Street.  Dunsdon, once he realized that the boy had got some boots, took them from him, and sold them for beer money.  On another occasion Joe, was making deliveries at another home, saw some money lying on a table, and deliberately took a pound coin from the table.  I don’t think it could have been a pound coin in those days, as they were not made then, but possibly it might have been a gold guinea piece ---- worth 21 shillings then, and to equivalent of £1.05 today.  Whatever the value of the coin, Joe took it home and boasted about what he had done.  Dunsdon asked if he taken all the money that was on the table and Joe said ‘No’, and then promptly got a good hiding fo

r not stealing more.  
My Mum started work in domestic service, as a scullery maid, when she was about 12 years of age, in the big houses, around Lawrie Park Road, Mayow Road, Silverdale Road and Venner Road, in Lower Sydenham.  

The hours were long, and the work was hard.  To the best of my knowledge, she did not move out of the family home in Edney Street, to live under an employer’s roof until she was turned sixteen.  I remember her telling me, that when she was living away from home, she was earning about 12s.6d per week, which was about 63p in today’s money.  Of that, she sent 10s.0d, (50p), per week home to her mother.  All her food, accommodation and uniform was provided by her employers. She learned all her catering skills from her time in domestic service, and over the years, was much in demand by the family, and others, for making the cakes and arranging the general catering for parties and celebrations.  Mum always reckoned she was not very good on doing Royal Icing for anniversary or wedding cakes, so she would invariably make the cake, and her sister ‘Georgie’ would decorate the cake with Royal Icing, which was her field of expertise.
Because money was always short in the Dunsdon household

, her brother Arthur was working at the earlier age of 10, starting at half past five in the mornings, to help put food on the table.  Dunsdon, as ‘head’ of the household, provided little in the way of money for the family’s needs, preferring to spend it on drink and other women.
Because the Brett children, Arthur, Joe and Elizabeth Ada ---- k/a ‘Big Dolly’---- were so young when the man Dunsdon entered their lives, right from the moment they started school, they always took believed that their surname was Dunsdon.  It wasn’t until the First World War came along, and Arthur and Joe became old enough to join the army and fight for their country, that they discovered their surname was Brett, and not Dunsdon as they had believed.  Although they probably enlisted about the same time as one another, Arthur joined the 10th Royal Hussars, whilst Joe served with the Royal Field Artillery.  Because they were in different regiments they didn’t serve alongside one another.
H

owever, it seems that they did meet up on at least one occasion in France, and Joe told Arthur that, when he enlisted, he had found out that their surname was Brett and not Dunsdon.  Quite how this discovery came about is not clear, but from the way that Dunsdon had treated the family, particularly the Brett children, it made them very angry, especially Arthur.

        During his time in the army, Arthur had sent money home to his mother, to be kept safe, until he was demobbed after the war.  The trouble was, after he came home, he found out that Dunsdon and his mother had squandered his savings.  He was absolutely furious when he found out, and this, together with the harsh treatment he had endured as a child, from a man who was not even his father, only served to make him dislike Dunsdon even more.  It was probably fortunate, that Dunsdon was not at home at that time, as it was, Arthur had sworn to seek him out and kill him.  Arthur, tackled Grannie Brett / Dunsdon about why, he had never been told he was a Brett and not a Dunsdon; he also discovered that Dunsdon was already married to a woman living in North London.
        Somehow, Arthur managed to locate the address of this other woman, and made his way across to North London, taking his old army bayonet with him, with the intention of wreaking his sworn vengeance on the man.  

Although, he found the address, and the woman who was Dunsdon’s wife, her husband was not living there.  The woman knew of her husband’s failings, and managed to diffuse the situation somewhat, by saying that the man ‘wasn’t worth swinging for, as he had a string of ‘wives’ and children, all over London’.  She reckoned that Arthur should return home, put the past behind him, and get on with enjoying his life.  That, she felt, was going to be a much better option than the possibility of being hung for killing a man that really wasn’t worth paying that sort of price.  
Although Arthur probably still felt very angry, common sense prevailed, and he returned home to Edney Street without having exercised his revenge.  Instead, he informed his mother, leaving her in no doubt, that Dunsdon should never be allowed back into the family home; if he ever found him there, he would kill them both.
That information came via Joyce, presumably from her father’s taped memories.  I

don’t think that incident was common knowledge in the family, possibly because Arthur had kept it to himself, together with the circumstances of my Mum and Nellie’s births, in case it upset people’s feelings.
Before joining the army, Arthur worked for a Gas Company at Bell Green, in Sydenham.  Because, at that time he hadn’t known any different, he was listed on their payroll as Arthur Dunsdon.  Once the war ended, and after the brothers were demobbed, they ‘took up reins’ again in civvy street, at the point where they had left it four years earlier .  Financially, I don’t think that life could have been any easier for them after the war than it was before  ---- but I feel certain that they must have felt a lot safer than they had on the battlefields of France.
Although I have no concrete knowledge of what employment Joe did after the war, I do know that Arthur returned to work with his former employers at Bell Green, namely, the South Suburban Gas Company.  The

 only difference being, that he went back into their employ under his rightful name of Arthur Brett, instead of Arthur Dunsdon.
The Great War found many young men volunteering to join up and fight for King and Country at that time, but sadly there were many who lost their lives ---- or were badly maimed --- as a result of their selflessness.  To honour those men that took part in the war, particularly those that were killed or injured, war memorials were erected throughout the country, listing the names of those that served.
  The South Suburban Gas Company at Bell Green, Catford was no exception, and they gratefully erected a monument to its employees.  In actual fact that particular monument covers their employees that took part in  World War I (1914-1918) and World War II (1939-1945).
  To the front of the monument, on a plinth at its base, there is a plaque commemorating  those employees ‘who made the Supreme Sacrifice’ during the Second World War

.  To the rear of the monument, there is another plaque engraved with the ‘Names of the co-partners and employees of the South Suburban Gas Company who took part in the Great War of 1914–1918’.
The memorial can still be seen in Bell Green today, standing in front of  the Livesey Memorial Hall at 225, Perry Hill, Catford, which is now the home of the Perry Hill Surgery.
 
Because, prior to the war, Arthur’s name on the Gas Company’s records was listed as ‘ A. Dunsdon’, and then, after the war,  he had returned to their employment as ‘A. Brett’, both names appear on the commemorative plaque.
Strangely, also recorded on that memorial is a J. Brett.  Could it be that the J. Brett mentioned, was Joseph Brett ----- Arthur’s brother?  Did Joe also work for the Gas Company with Arthur before 1914-18 War?  I really don’t know!  If he did, why aren’t his names of ‘Dunsdon’ and ‘Brett’  both recorded  on the memorial ---- as was Arthur’s ?  

Long before I knew about Arthur’s threat to his mother, I did ask my Mum, if she knew what had happened to Dunsdon, her supposed father, but she had no idea.  She said, that she knew he had been a womaniser, and, as she put it, ‘an all-round nasty piece of works’.  He could have still been alive or dead, for all she knew.  All she could remember was that he would disappear for days at a time, possibly with a woman.  Then, without a word, he just disappeared out of their lives forever, never to be seen again.  Although she detested the man, she did not like to think that he might have died alone, having collapsed in a drunken stupor somewhere, and having nobody around to help him.  She was quite soft-hearted and didn’t like to know people suffered.  
At the end of the day, I suppose, Mum’s lack of knowledge on what happened to Dunsdon, only adds credence to the threat Arthur is said to have made to his mother, that the man really had been banned from the house.  I

t is still not known what happened to Dunsdon, although Joyce did tell me that Arthur reckoned that he had seen the man in the 1950’s, shopping in Catford.  If this was the case, assuming, Dunsdon had been a similar age to Grannie Brett / Dunsdon, he would have been about 80 years old, at that time.  Could it have been him, I wonder?

Throughout the 1920’s and 1930’s all the Brett / Dunsdon children married and settled down to have families of their own.

Arthur Brett met and married a girl called Elizabeth (Lizzie) Tame. Apparently, after the war, Arthur was invited by Ted Tame, a friend of his, to visit Ted’s cousin at Tapperfield Road at Nunhead.  It was on that visit that Arthur and Lizzie first met, and it was love at first sight. However, because money was short in both the Dunsdon and Tame households, there was a certain amount of opposition to the idea that they would possibly get married.   Arthur was working at the Gas Works, whilst Lizzie worked in a big house as a domestic servant.  Their earnings were not very great, and at the time they couldn’t afford to buy an engagement ring. Instead, they treated themselves to a pair of vases and a  black china clock with red roses on it, for the princely sum of one guinea (£1. 05 in today’s money). To do that, they had to pay one shilling per week for 21 weeks before they could take them from the shop! Cousin Joyce has told me that she still has those vases and the   clock in her possessi

on, and treasures them greatly.
Arthur and Lizzie eventually married in secret, on the 29 September 1922, in a Registry Office, and started their married life in a rented flat at No. 2, Hindley Road, Forest Hill, SE 23. As their marriage progressed they were  blessed with two daughters --- my cousins ---  Joyce in 1922, and Dorothy (‘Dot’) in 1936.
Sadly, it seems that Joyce rather feels that she was castigated as the black-sheep of the family, and to my mind appears to have spent most of her adult life on the edge of the family and admits to having very little  interest in the Brett/Dunsdon family’s past.  A pity really! I vaguely know what brought about the ‘rift’ ---- I believe it was the result of  an association with a married man, which was very much frowned upon  sixty years ago.  In today’s society, rightly or wrongly, such an association wouldn’t  cause a raised eyebrow, although I suppose in some families it would still cause some concern. It wasn’t so

mething that was discussed when I was a boy, and my only memory of it was when  my Mum received a letter from Joyce. In that letter, Joyce presumably told Mum of her affair ---- for want of a better word ---- and then asked Mum not to tell her parents about something.  Whatever was written, caused Mum to break down and cry, which in turn, had me asking her why she was crying?  I didn’t get a response that told me what was in the letter, other than the fact Joyce had told her something that was putting her (Mum) in an awkward  position with Joyce’s parents. Whatever it was that had upset her, she never divulged the details.

Although my mother had been upset on the day that she had received the letter, as far as I could see, she never showed any resentment towards Joyce because of its contents.  If anything, I got the impression that she felt somewhat sorry for Joyce’s situation.
Both of Arthur and Lizzie’s daughters married.  Joyce worked in the legal profession all her life, married a Philip Stone and  lived happily in a cottage  at  Ottery St Mary, in Devon. Unfortunately, Philip passed away a few years ago, but despite her loss and ‘advancing years’, Joyce still enjoys life and has retained her good looks and lively personality.
Dot, married Alexander D’Silva, and had two sons, Richard and John.  Alec, to the best of my knowledge, worked as an architect , and Dot spent a goodly number of years in the nursing profession. For a while they all lived in Chislehurst, before moving down to Ashford in Kent.

As life progressed, and Arthur (Dot’s father), and Alec’s mother, who had both lost their partners in life and were living alone, Dot and Alec took them both down to live with them at Ashford. Arthur, until he passed away around about 1985/6.
After their respective parents had died, and with their own children married, Dot and Alec must have been looking forward to a happy and well-earned retirement. Unfortunately, Alec, became very ill, and despite all Dot’s  attention, he  passed away in about 1992/3.  Later, Dot decided to move from Ashford down to  Ottery St Mary, only a stone’s throw from where her sister  lives ---- and seems to have settled in quite comfortably.  Dot’s sons,  as I have said, are both married,  Richard, her eldest lives  in Surrey with his second wife, whilst John, works and lives out in Spain with his family.  
Joseph Brett married a girl called Mary and went on to  have a son ---- my cousin ---- who was known to the family as

 Joe-boy.  Unfortunately Joseph (Joe), sustained a leg wound during World War I, and although in the wound wasn’t fatal, it never healed properly during the ensuing years, and  was considered to be a contributing factor in his death in 1929, when he died from toxæmia. His untimely death, caused a rift in the family, particularly between his widow, Mary, and Joe’s eldest brother, Arthur.  Quite what the disagreement was about is now lost in the mists of time, although I do believe that it had something to do with the subsequent funeral arrangements. Sadly the cause, whatever it was, had long repercussions.  Cousins Joe-boy and Joyce who were of similar ages, and spent quite a lot of time together, were forbidden to see each other.  The rift continued and in consequence, Joe-boy never really came back into the Brett/Dunsdon ‘clan’, and therefore most of my cousins, and I, never got to know him.

In later years, after their respective retirements, it seems that   Joyce and Joe-boy, did eventually ‘find’ one another again, and now keep in contact with one another by phone two or three times a year.
Joe-boy eventually married a girl from Devon, called Eva, and went on to have two sons, Mark and John, who both went to Cambridge University.  To the best of my knowledge, Mark is married with two sons, and John has remained single.

     Elizabeth Ada Brett, (known to the family as ‘Big’ Dolly), was born on the 20 August 1901, at No. 8, Newton Street, Hoxton.. Quite why she was called Dolly, rather than ‘Lizzie’ or ‘Ada’ isn’t really known.
My Dad reckoned that in her younger day, she was very petite and ‘doll-like’, hence the reason she was known as Dolly. Whether this is true, or just a figment of my Dad’s imagination, I have no idea!   However, the following picture of her taken at Christmas 1924, when she was in her twenties, and shows just how attractive she was.    

In actual fact, all the Brett/Dunsdon girls were very attractive looking in their younger day ---- and successfully managed to pass their ‘good-looking gene’ onto their own daughters. There wasn’t one of my girl cousins that weren’t worthy of a second look during their teenage years, and all made very attractive brides.
The ‘Big’ part of  Dolly’s title, came through the need to distinguish her from her brother Jimmy’s wife, who was also called Dolly.  One was called ‘Big’ and the other was called ‘Little’ ---- which left no room for confusion.
On the 17 December 1927, Dolly married James Bailey who had previously served in the Royal Marines Light Infantry from 1917 – 1921, prior to becoming a lorry driver for a builder’s merchant, and later, he worked as an omnibus conductor.  Some 2½ years later, on the 5 July 1930, they had a son, whom they decided to call Peter.

Unfortunately,  Peter’s Dad, died in 1934, just 34 years of age, in the Royal Sussex Hospital, Hastings.  The cause of his death was said to been a heart attack brought on by  acute nephritis ---- inflammation of the kidneys.
        I never knew Peter’s Dad. He had died before I was born. However, those of my senior relatives that did know him, always spoke kindly of him, and thought that he was a thorough gentleman ---- who could  always be found reading books at every opportunity.
‘Big’ Dolly, was a trained and talented dressmaker, and was   known to visit the Crystal Palace and other venues that had dresses on display, and copy them to make for her customers.  She had a fair number of clientele that she made dresses and coats for, to say nothing of those that she made for her sisters and nieces.  Other than, my marriage to Barbara, I think that she must have made all the wedding dresses for family weddings.  
That is not a bitter recrimination on

my part, but sadly the decision, on our part, for Barbara to have her wedding dress made one of Barbara’s own family, caused a bit of  ‘friction’ at the time.  Knowing that ‘Big’ Dolly had produced all previous family wedding dresses, we tried to do the right thing for all concerned.  So we, Barbara and I, agreed that we would ask Barbara’s aunt to make her wedding dress, and having explained this to my ‘Big’ Aunt Doll, asked if she would do the bridesmaids dresses for us. Unfortunately, ‘Big’ Dolly took umbrage at this request, and told us that if we didn’t think she was good enough to make the wedding dress then she wasn’t ‘good enough’ to do the dresses for the bridesmaids ---- and said she wouldn’t do them.  I must admit we were a bit taken aback by her comments and had no alternative but to have them done elsewhere.  Like I said, feelings were a bit fraught at the time, and I felt sorry for my Mum who got ‘stuck in the middle’. Anyway, like most family ‘upsets’, it all blew over in ti

me, and things eventually got back to a normal footing.
After her husband’s death, ‘Big’ Dolly and young Peter continued to live at the family home at Edney Street, together with Billy and Jimmy ----- her two younger brothers ---- plus her mother, Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon.

About that time, Grannie Brett/Dunsdon was in her mid-sixties, and was becoming steadily more frail in herself and eventually passed away in November 1936.
Three years after her death, World War II commenced, and lives were again disrupted.  Because of the threat of bombing, children all over London were evacuated out of the capital to places of relative safety.  My cousin Peter was no exception, and went with the first wave of evacuees leaving London on the 3 September 1939, enduring the trauma of leaving home and separation from his Mum.  He was evacuated to Reigate and ‘billeted’ in the home of a Mr and Mrs Ellis. Peter recalls that Mrs Ellis was of middle age, but looked much older, whilst her husband seemed much younger.  They already had three children ---- Billy aged nine, Betty, who was of a similar age, and a little girl aged three.  Although he reckons he was treated reasonably well, he never felt exactly welcome in their home, especially where the chil

dren were concerned.  About a year later, Peter said that it seems that he got to be ‘too much’ for his temporary foster  family and had to leave.  
Fortunately, according to Peter, he was able to go to stay with Aunt Nellie and Uncle Cyril, and our cousins Kathy, Gina and Tony ---- the ‘Skipp family’ ----  for a year, who were then living at 15, Clarendon Road, Redhill.  Apparently they had previously lived in a nice house at West Wickam ---- or was it at Shirley? ---- but it had been bombed during an air-raid and the family had had to move to Redhill.
Peter recalls that the local air-raid siren was situated on a building at the end of their garden in Clarendon Road, and because it was so close, he, together with Kathy. Gina and Tony, had ample time to get into the Morrison Shelter, which was situated under their dining room table.
Like most children that were evacuated, it wasn’t necessarily one of the highlights of their little lives, being away f

rom their home and parents, and Peter admits that he didn’t overly enjoy his period of evacuation. He did, however, during his time away from home, discover the joys of ‘open countryside’ ---- which was something that was in short supply living at home in Sydenham.  He also says that he will always be indebted to a teacher who read  Treasure Island to his class, and opened his eyes to the wealth of enjoyment that can be found in books, which ultimately turned Peter into avid reader for life.
I wonder though, just how much the teacher was responsible for that, or whether Peter has  inherited his own father’s love of reading. After all, most of the senior Brett/Dunsdon’s had remarked on Jim Bailey’s fondness for reading.
Although the war was still going strong, Peter’s period of evacuation came to an end when he returned  home in 1941 ---- although his home was no longer at No.7, Edney Street, but was relocated at 10, Rowland Grove. He also discovered that his Mum h

ad re-married, and that he had acquired a step-father in the form of Ben Ewen ---- which must have all been a bit of a shock to him.  
Apparently Ben had been a widower himself, with a young daughter, called Pamela, and had lived ---- or so I believe ---- at 16, Edney Street, prior to marrying Dolly.  As a result of their marriage, Peter and Pamela became step brother and sister to one another, but strangely, Pam never lived with Ben, Dolly and Peter at Rowland Grove.  She was cared for by her Grandmother, who I have always assumed lived just around the corner at 16, Edney Street .  I only saw Peter’s step-sister when  I happened to be visiting Rowland Grove with my Mum, and when Pam was also popping in,  perhaps to see her Dad. In my eyes, she was a grown-up ---- albeit she was only an elderly teenager  when I first knew her. Consequently, apart from a polite ‘Hallo’ whenever we met, we had nothing to do with each other.
Ben Ewen, worked as milkman, and was a bit

 of a rough diamond in some respects ---- although I must confess that I rather liked him.  I don’t think Peter and his new Dad hit it off all that well, for many a long year.  Mind you, under the circumstances, of his sudden and unannounced arrival into Peter’s life, I can quite understand Peter not taking to him instantly.  However, for me, Ben was a character and I quite looked forward to see him come home after his milk-round. Unlike my other uncles, he was quietly affable, and didn’t joke and tease quite too much.  Sometimes I would be there when he was ‘doing  the books’ for his milk-round ---- and counting out  his money on the living-room table.  If there were no other cousins around, he used to allow me to help him count out his coppers and silver into piles, so that he could balance his book. I’d more often than not earn myself a ‘tanner’ (sixpence in those days / 2½p today), for doing that.  One thing I do remember disliking him for, was introducing me to ‘yoghurt’. I remember h

e gave me a small carton to eat and it was quite the foulest taste I had ever come across. Such was life at that time,  as a child, you tended to eat what you were given, whether you liked it or not ---- under the belief that there were other children ‘who weren’t quite so lucky!’.  It took me years before I could ever take to enjoying yoghurt. In fact, I was well into my late fifties before I could really say I enjoyed it. Even now, I still have to ‘larrup’ it with sugar, so as to be able to say when I’ve finished it ---- ‘That was nice!’
My over-riding memories of seeing  ‘Big’ Dolly and Ben  together, was the seemingly never-ending back-chat that they had with one another.  As soon as Ben walked through the door, ‘Big’ Dolly would treat him to some recrimination that she had been harbouring and he would reply  with some caustic comment that would set them carping at one another for ages.  To me, it always sounded as though Ben was being nagged incessantly, but it seemed li

ke water off of a duck’s back to him ---- and gave as good as he got!  Nobody else, who was present at those times, seemed to take their bickering seriously. And, since their marriage was quite a long one, one presumes it was also a very happy one. There are certainly a number of photographs of the two of them smiling together.
        ‘Big’ Aunt Doll was, as I have already said, a dressmaker by trade, and invariably when I went to visit her with my Mum, she was invariably hard at work when we arrived.  However, she was never so busy that she couldn’t stop for a cup of tea and a chat.  When that happened, I would take the opportunity to play with her pin magnet, under the pretext of  picking up her dress-making pins from off of the floor, which lay around and under her sewing machine.  Really, I was only interested in seeing how long a length of magnetised pins I could pick-up without them breaking off of their ‘chain’.  When I tired of that, I would open a newspaper on the ta

ble, drop a handful of pins onto it, place the magnet under the newspaper, and move it to and fro to see the pins magically move around the newspaper without my actually touching them.
Sometimes Aunt Doll would have to finish off a seam or a hem with her machine whilst we were there, and I used to be fascinated as she worked the machine with the electric treadle.  She’d remove pins from the material, and hold them in her mouth while she applied her foot to the ‘treadle’, and quickly passed the  material backwards and forwards through the foot of the sewing machine.  It made a noisy machine-gun  ---- ttttttttttttttt --- type of noise as the needle stabbed its way through  the material. Despite being fully occupied, and having a mouthful of pins, Aunt Doll still managed to hold a conversation with whosoever was there, without swallowing a single pin!
As I got into my teens, my cousin Peter was working for a living, and was the proud possessor of a record player tha

t used to sit in the centre of their sideboard at Rowland Grove.  Sometimes, when we arrived over at his house on a weekend, we would catch him playing some of his records.  From what I can recall he was, in those days, very keen on drum solos, and quite a number of his records featured people like Gene Krupa, Buddy Rich and Basil Kirchin.  
‘Big’Aunt Doll’s home at Rowland Grove was, without a doubt, considered as the Brett/Dunsdon family home; and almost everybody in the family visited it at one time or another, to meet up and exchange family gossip.  She was I suppose, a sort of ‘matriarch’ to the family. At Christmas time --- on Boxing Day --- her house was opened up to have a big family get-together, when we would feast and generally make merry.
I must confess, that as a youngster, I was never over keen on family parties of any description, and had to be almost frog-marched to such gatherings.  It wasn’t that I disliked the people, because that would be far f

rom the truth.  It was just that I didn’t like functions that involved large groups of people.  Invariably, I quite enjoyed myself once I was there ---- but actually getting me to attend, with even the smallest degree of good grace, must have been a labour of love for my Mum. Even today, I still fight shy of celebratory gatherings, and can get quite ‘stroppy’ if I find that a surprise has been sprung upon me.  Having said that, I do quite like sitting with a small group of friends, or relatives, just talking  about nothing in particular, and generally enjoying their company.
Anyway the Brett/Dunsdon gatherings at ‘Big’ Dolly’s were memorable in many ways.  Somehow, in a smallish living room, which was also Aunt Doll’s workshop, twenty to twenty-five family members, of all ages, would sit around the table for dinner.  We were so closely packed together, it was almost a case of  all our arms moving in unison when we ate.  It was a noisy, fun-filled affair, with everyone talking

at once, with the table positively groaning under the weight of all the food ---- even though many things were still on ration, or hard to come by, from the end of the war, right up until the mid 1950’s.
The Boxing Day afternoons were spent sitting on whatever chair or lap was available, in ‘Big’ Dolly’s front room, handing out presents to one another.  They weren’t massively expensive gifts by today’s standards ----  socks or ties for the men, handkerchiefs and bath salts for the ladies ---- sweets for the kids.  Nevertheless they were all given and received with a good heart, accompanied by lots of laughter and back-chat.  I can remember, one year in particular, when the presents were being given out to the men, as each one was opened , Ben was heard to keep commenting ‘That’s nice, I’ve got a tie (or  a pair of socks) like that’. Once the present giving was over and everyone started moving about again, Ben disappeared. A few moments later he came back in the room, complaini

ng that he’d been upstairs to his bedroom only to find that all the presents that he had watched others unwrap, were the new items out of his chest of drawers. Apparently, his good lady wife, ‘Big’ Dolly, had wrapped up and given his stock of new ties and socks away as presents.
Tea-time on Boxing Day would find us all sitting around the table in the living room once again, stuffing our faces with daintily cut sandwiches, sausage rolls,  fancy cakes, slices of Christmas cake,  jelly and trifle.  Not forgetting the pulling of crackers, wearing paper hats and reading ‘mottoes’.
After tea, we would all sit around the table and play hectic and hilarious games of cards for ‘money’ --- albeit just ‘pennies’!  The most popular game was Chase the Ace, although sometimes we played and gambled on ‘Newmarket’ or ‘Sevens’.  In between games, our Uncle Jack or Uncle Jim, would demonstrate card tricks which never failed to amaze me.
For those Christmases, our seni

or relatives all pulled together, pooling resources, time and energies to ensure that everyone ---- even me! ---- a good time. Whatever I thought about ‘having to go’ to the parties, at that time ---- I have nothing but good memories of them, when I look back on them now.  And I thank everyone for that.
Cousin Peter, eventually married Valerie Journeaux in 1963, and had two daughters,  Karen and Sarah.. They in turn were married and had children of their own. Karen has two, who  are called Danielle and Nicholas;  and Sarah has a daughter called Natalie.

Florence May Dunsdon was the fourth one of Grannie Brett/Dunsdon’s  children to get married. She ultimately became my Mum, after she married my Dad, John Mills, on the 3 August 1930.  They were about fifteen when they met in a cinema. Apparently my Dad was with some of his friends and threw some sweet papers at some girls who were sitting a few rows in front of him.  Mum told me that she wasn’t overly impressed with him at the time, and told him off; but regardless of her irritation, they started seeing each other from then on. Dad also told me, that it hadn’t been his original intention to flick sweet papers at Mum ---- really, he’d been aiming them at one of the other girls.  He reckoned that his proposed target had been Mum’s older sister, Dolly.  It’s rather strange to think that my whole existence came about as the result of a miss-aimed sweet wrapper!  But that’s life I suppose! Mind you, it does rather knock my theory  that one’s life is predetermined by some Great Mas

ter Plan!

Anyway, whatever the reason for my presence in this life, I popped into my parent’s lives on the 13 July 1938, and in the due course of time, I grew up, married my wife ---- Barbara ---- and together went on to produce a family of our own. We had two children, Kevin and Nicola (k/a ‘Nikki’).  At this moment in time (2005), Kevin is still single, but Nikki has taken the plunge into matrimony and produced two children of her own,  Alexandra Louise ( k/a Alex) and Christopher Marcus (k/a Chris).
I intend enlarging on my own life a little later on, as although I do not consider that I’ve done anything that particularly entitles me  to be remembered for posterity, hopefully it will be of some interest to our children and grandchildren at some later date!  It might explain a few things for them, that they never got around to asking me about  whilst I was still around!

Anyway, let me get back to the Brett/Dunsdon family.

It must have been a very noisy and exciting time at No.7, Edney Street, back in 1930.  Not only did my Mum get married, but towards the end of that year, two other weddings were in the offing. One, was Mum’s ‘twin’ sister Nellie;  the other was their young sister, Georgina who was married around about the same time, although I do not have an exact date for her wedding.
        If ‘Big’ Dolly was had been roped-in and was responsible for making each of her sister’s wedding dresses, then the sparks must have really flown off of her sewing machine in that year;  especially if she was also having to make dresses for  her customers outside the family. Their brothers, Billie and Jimmy, who were still single and living at home at that time, must have been ‘over the moon’ with all the talk of wedding arrangements that had to be made!
        Nellie ( Barbara Ellen) Dunsdon, married her boy-friend, Cyril Edwin Skipp, at the South Norwood Baptist Church, Croydon, on the 22

 November 1930.
To the best of my knowledge, at the time Nellie and Cyril  married, he was a carpenter and joiner, and later in life, became a Clerk of Works with the London County Council.  I’m not sure what line of work Nellie was doing when they married but I seem to remember that Mum told me that, like her, Nellie also worked in Domestic Service. Exactly where Nellie worked, isn’t known, but again I seem to remember Mum telling me that when she, herself, was working at one of the big houses in Mayow Road, Sydenham, her sister Nellie would sometimes pop around for a chat.  So perhaps Nellie worked in that area too!
For a while, at least until their house was bombed during World War II, they lived at an address in either West Wickham or Shirley, which are areas that sit between Croydon and Bromley.  They had three children there ---- my cousins Katherine (‘Kathy’, born 1931), Georgina (‘Gina’, born 1933) and Anthony (‘Tony’, born 1938).  After the house was bomb

ed, the family moved to Clarendon Road, Redhill.  

I can only assume that their house must have been bombed in the very early part of the war, since my Cousin Peter, tells me that having initially been evacuated to Reigate, he was subsequently ‘transferred’ over to the Skipp family in Redhill.  He returned home from there  sometime in 1941. I must have been very young when their house was bombed and  consequently it was quite a surprise to me, to only find this out some sixty-odd years after the event.  Probably by the time I was old enough to take an interest in such a happening, the incident was already ‘history’ to everyone else in the family ---- hence I never got to hear about it.
My actual memories of the ‘Skipp’ branch of the family is a bit thin, possibly due to the fact that they were living ‘in the country’ away from the rest of the family.  But having said that I have odd things that stick in my mind.
Sometimes during the summer months, the Brett/Dunsdon families would meet up at West Croydon and form

an ‘orderly’ queue to catch the No.  405, double-decker, Green Country Bus to Redhill or Earlswood Lakes, for a day out.  En masse, with all my aunts,  uncles and cousins, we would virtually take over the top deck of the bus, for a somewhat noisy trip to our see our country cousins.  I don’t know about any of my other cousins, but I was never fully aware of where I was actually going until I was actually seated on the bus.  If we paid our fares to Redhill, I realized that we were going for dinner or tea with the ‘Skipps’, and if Earlswood Common was mentioned we would all be going to the ’lakes’ ---- where we would meet up with the ‘Skipps’ for an enormous family picnic.
Personally, and no disrespect to the ‘Skipps’, I always preferred going to the lakes.  At Earlswood Common, we could go boating on one of the lakes, and if it was a warm enough day, we could go paddling or swimming in the other one. Alternatively, between stuffing our faces with food, we could play ball games

 on the grassy area where we were picnicking.   A visit to the ‘Skipp’s’ family home, meant that I had to be dressed in my ‘Sunday Best’ and on ‘good behaviour’ all day,  and was therefore that was far less attractive to someone of my ilk who enjoyed nothing better than messing about, getting dirty and into mischief.
At a time when it was rare for anyone without oodles of money to own a car Uncle Ted was the only one of my relatives to be mobile, albeit that it was a motor-cycle combination rather than a car, which gave him and his family mobility.  They were, at one time, the possessors of a BSA Gold Flash, and as a young lad, and just about in  my teens, I was very envious of  them.  Mind you, on the occasions they arrived at ‘Big’ Aunt Doll’s in the winter time, motorcycling didn’t have the same appeal for me when I saw how cold and frozen they looked as they clambered off of the machine or out of the sidecar.  I can recall my cousin Tony unravelling himself from the sidec

ar.  He had been sitting under a thick travel-blanket, wearing a heavy coat, hat, scarf, gloves and clutching a hot water bottle, which, by the time they had arrived, was barely tepid. And, he still looked and felt frozen!  His Mum, my Aunt Nellie, had ridden ‘shot-gun‘ on the pillion seat! On alighting from the machine, she was locked into the frozen  position she had had to adopt on back of the machine.  The only one of them that looked as though they had any degree of warmth about him, was Uncle Ted/Cyril who had driven it from Redhill to Sydenham; and, to all intents and purposes he was the only one that looked as though he had actually enjoyed the ride.
        I don’t remember Tony ever getting himself a motor-bike when he became older, but I do recall that both Kathy and Gina had boy-friends that had solo motorcycles. Their boy-friends, later to become their husbands, were respectively John (Jenkins) and Brian (White).  Again I fell foul to ‘envy’, although I was never

sure whether I actually envied John and Brian for their motorcycles, or their dashing good looks. I think it was a bit of everything really ---- they had these powerful bikes, looked ‘the part,’ in the gear that they wore, and had very attractive girl-friends as well ---- albeit that their girl-friends were my cousins --and perhaps I shouldn’t have viewed them in that way!
I also seem to recall that both Kathy and Gina were a bit of a worry to their parents as they would stay out late at night Jiving, Jitter-bugging and Bopping the night away.  Whenever I heard their Dad talking to my other aunts and uncles about his daughters  ‘wayward dancing habits’ ---- I got the distinct impression that he didn’t entirely approve.

Georgina Mary Dunsdon,  known to the family as ‘George’ or ‘Georgie’ was another of Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon’s girls to marry in the latter part of 1930. She married a man called Jack Brown.  Unfortunately, I do not possess a photograph taken on their Wedding Day, and therefore I cannot show what they looked like on that day.  Instead, I can include two individual pictures that were taken some ten years later, in the 1940’s, plus one of the two of them together celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary in 1980.

Strangely, although my mother and her sister, ‘Georgie’ were very close throughout their lives, I know very little about my aunt.  I don’t know whether she went out to work prior to getting married; and, if she did, what sort of job she had.   I suppose that she must have worked, since money was always known to be short supply in the Dunsdon household, but I really have no idea what she did.
        Of all my Brett/Dunsdon relatives, whilst I was a child, she was the one that always struck me as being very genteel and lady-like ---- almost a cut above the rest of  the family ---- which, with hindsight, wasn’t really the case!  She, like all the others, was just a very nice person, who just happened to have a certain ‘bearing’ about her. There were a couple of things that led me to think of her like that.
One, involved a photo of her taken whilst she was reading a book in her home, which has a distinct air of elegance about it.  The other, was to do

with the house in which she lived with her husband, Jack, and their son Derek.

Quite what Jack did for a living before the war, is unknown to me, but after the war finished and he was ‘demobbed’ from the Royal Air Force he worked ‘nights’ for the Daily Mirror Group, in London.  I don’t know that he did anything overly special, and seem to remember being told that he was some sort of machine minder, who loaded enormous reels of paper onto the printing presses, so that the newspaper could be printed overnight for delivery the following morning.  I don’t know how well-paid the job was, but he always seemed to have plenty of cash on him, and most certainly neither Aunt ‘George’, or  my cousin Derek seemed to go short of anything. And, to me, their  home in Marmora Road was absolutely enormous compared to the little council maisonette that I lived in with my parents.   I always used to think that his parents must have been very rich to have lived in such a big house, with such enormous rooms.  I was probably about 11 or 12 years old before I realized that th

ey were just renting rooms in a very large house, and didn’t actually own the whole house themselves.
One of the things I recall about my Uncle Jack, was that he was instrumental, in the family, for placing bets on everyone’s behalf, if they wanted to have a gamble on the horses or the dogs.   
Before betting shops came into being, placing bets on horses or dogs was only legitimately carried out with bookmakers at a racetrack.  However, if you were a regular gambler, and had an account with a bookmaker, and owned, or had access to a telephone, you could also legitimately place bets by phone. What you couldn’t do ---- legally that is ---- is place cash bets on the streets with  a man who was a ‘bookie’s runner’.  That form of betting was open to abuse and corruption, and consequently you could be arrested if caught doing so. Of course, not everyone had access to a phone in those days, and for a lot of people, gambling was only an occasional activity ---- say half

a dozen times a year ----- therefore  using a bookie’s runner to place a bet was sometimes the only way people could have a ‘flutter’.  Depending on the area you lived, it wasn’t unusual to see a couple of ‘shady’ characters on a street corner, whispering to each other and exchanging money in a rather furtive manner.
Uncle Jack, was no illegal bookie’s runner, dabbling on street corners, but he obviously had the contacts, or facility, to place bets for the family whenever the mood took them.  My old Mum was quite keen on having an occasional ‘flutter’ as she called it,  and   would place her bet via Uncle Jack. If the race was going to be heard on the radio, she would sit down, turn the set on, and then hang on the radio commentator’s every word.  Normally, the horse that she had backed only got a mention in the line-up at the start of the race ---- and on being asked how her horse did, once the race was over ---- she would smile and say ‘ The bloody thing’s still running!’  T

he fact that she mostly lost money, never dampened her belief that ‘one day her boat would  come in’,  and make her very rich.     
Derek’s father, Jack, was a practical joker and a tease.  I can recall being taken over to see them one Sunday, and everyone sitting down to eat tea around the table in their very roomy kitchen.  There used to be a bell push in the room, on the wall alongside their kitchen door ---- although at the time, I wasn’t aware that the bell didn’t work!  Suddenly, Uncle Jack announced that he would ring for the maid, and duly pressed the bell.  Seconds later a knock came on the kitchen door and in walked the ‘maid’.  I don’t think anyone will know just how impressed I was to think that my relatives had a maid.  It was years before it dawned on me that Uncle Jack could hear footsteps on the stairs outside his kitchen, and knew that his upstairs neighbour was coming down from her flat for a quick chat.  He timed the act of ‘ringing for the maid’ to perfecti

on  ---- and I fell for it!  

Hence the reason I thought that Aunt ‘George’ and her family were ‘a cut above the rest of the family’!

In the late 1950’s they moved from their home in Marmora Road, to live next door to ‘Big Aunt Doll and her family at Rowland Grove, Sydenham.  Quite why they made the move, I don’t know, as the new house was a lot smaller than the flat they had in Marmora Road.  It also had an outside toilet, and initially, I don’t think it had a bathroom either ---- whereas the flat in Marmora Road had a toilet and bathroom on the next landing down.  Again, what I didn’t realize is that those facilities in Marmora Road, were shared by other people who were living in other flats in the house. So, perhaps the move was for the better.

As children, Derek and I saw each other quite a lot, and on the whole we seemed to rub along together reasonably well, and I have only good memories of our times together.  I’m not too sure that when he came over to visit us in Croydon that his Mum viewed our association with much pleasure.  Invariably, if the weather was fine, I’d ostensibly take him to Wandle Park to play. On the way there, we would somehow get ourselves side-tracked into playing on the vast coal tips ----- stock-piled for use by the nearby power station ---- and spend a few happy hours sliding down the coal tips on pieces of rusty old corrugated iron. Consequently when we got back to our mothers we would be covered in coal dust, perhaps with grazed and bleeding knees, or torn trousers. If we had been on a really successful trip ---- we could have been sporting all three pieces of evidence to proving how much we’d enjoyed ourselves!  Our mothers were never overly impressed by our appearance and we would be forbidden from

 going over the power station the next time he visited us.
However, we still had the pond at Mitcham Common  as well as its neighbouring  area of  swamp-land known as Seven Islands.  Both of which gave ample opportunities for two young boys to get soaking wet, and muddied up to the eyeballs whilst ‘fighting the Japanese soldiers in the Burmese jungles.’

Probably the only time our parents felt relatively sure we wouldn’t get into mischief, or dirty, was when a travelling funfair put in an appearance on Mitcham Common.  On those occasions we would be given 2/6d. each (12½p) to go and enjoy ourselves –which was probably about the only time we actually did as we were told, without quibbling!

As we grew up and moved into our teens, started work, and went to do our National Service, Derek and I slowly drifted apart. Derek eventually married Janet Dorling, on 28 May 1960 and went to live in Essex.
    
The ‘family’ travelled to the wedding by coach and a report of the outing, together with an accompanying picture appeared in the local paper, as follows:-

ALL ABOARD FOR THE WEDDING

     Their marriage produced four children, Trevor, Wendy,  Michelle and Sheridan.  With the exception, of Michelle, I believe that all the others married and had families of their own.

     The next of Grannie Brett/Dunsdon’s  children to marry was William Henry Dunsdon, or  Billy as he was known to the family.  He was 24 years old when he married Hilda Constance Groves on the 22 July 1934, at St Hilda’s Church, Brockley Road, Crofton Park.

Their marriage produced two daughters, Shirley and Wendy, who ---- to my surprise were both born in Lewisham.  I say that I was ‘surprised’ to learn this snippet of information, because as far as I was concerned, as children,  they had always lived in Keynsham, Bristol.  Because of the distance, we only saw each other on very rare occasions ---- and although I liked them both ---- I felt that I had very little in common with them. The thing that I remember most about them, was their lovely Somerset accents, which seemed so vastly different to rest of us who came from areas around London.

I was equally surprised to learn that their family had been bombed out of their own home in the early part of World War II, and for some time, they didn’t have a proper home of their own.  According to Shirley, their mother took her and Wendy down to Keynsham, to visit an aunt of theirs.  Hilda fell in love with the area, and wanted to live there, hence the reason the family decided to stay, and settled into a house in Rock Road, Keynsham.

Uncle Billy, their Dad, was a Master Baker, and seemingly stayed in South London for the duration of the war, finally moving down to Keynsham towards the end of the war.  He managed to get employment locally as a baker and roundsman, and started to carve out a  more settled life for his family.  Unfortunately, some three years after the whole family settled into their new life, Billy, unexpectedly passed away in his sleep. He was just 38 years old.  The following is a cutting from a local newspaper of the time, reporting on the sad loss of a much-liked man:-

The year before Uncle Billy died, Mum, Dad and I  spent a short holiday at his home in Rock Road, with him and his family.  It must have been 1947, and shortly after my Mum had come out of hospital, having had a kidney removed.  I suppose for her, it was a sort of convalescent-type holiday.  We all went out for short strolls in the countryside around the immediate vicinity of their home. Even at my tender age, although I thought they were ‘long’ strolls, I could appreciate the beauty of the area in which they lived, and looking back it wasn’t hard to see why Auntie Hilda wanted to live there.

One of the strolls took us through a field containing a herd of cows.  My Mum was very apprehensive about crossing that field, as she was absolutely terrified of cows.  Nevertheless, she allowed herself to be coerced into crossing the field, on the basis that the cows were loitering on the far side, and nowhere near where we were going to walk.  Unfortunately for Mum, cows are very curious creatures and like to investigate anything that enters their field.; so, as soon as they saw our little party of people come into view, they made straight towards us, all lowing excitedly.  For all Mum’s weakness after her major operation, she almost ran across that field, only to realize that her only way out was to cross a small river.  The only way across was by a small rowing boat- type of ferry, which had to be hailed by whistling to someone on the far bank, which Uncle Billy did.  Not only was Mum terrified of cows, she was also petrified of travelling in small boats, and was somewhat loath to risk

 life and limb in such a frail-looking craft.  If it hadn’t have been for one particularly inquisitive cow that had caught up with us, I feel that we  could’ve been still standing on that riverbank today.  Luckily, her fear of cows was greater than her fear of small boats, therefore as soon as the boat nudged the bank, she scrambled on board with only momentary hesitation.  Because it was a small boat, and we were a ’full-load’, the boat sat low in the water, which only added to Mum’s concern, especially when the ferry-man made the boat rock ‘dangerously’ as he rowed us to the opposite bank.
        Mum was always very proud of her younger brother, but she wasn’t too impressed with him taking her out for a walk on that day.

        There were a couple of things that made an impression on me regarding Uncle Billy.  One was the place, the bakery, where he worked.  He took us on a guided tour of the place, and showed us ---- me, in particular ---- the big stainless steel mixing bowls with their giant ‘paddles’ for turning the flour into dough for making the bread. I was even allowed to press the switch that turned the machine on and see the paddles churning the flour in the bowl.  For years, I secretly held the idea that I too would become a Master Baker, and be allowed to operate such machinery.

The other thing that Uncle Billy was able to do, was to be able to play a banjo ---- or was it a ukulele ?   He entertained us by playing it, on one of the evenings during that holiday.  I was so envious of Shirley and Wendy having a Dad that could play a musical Instrument.  The only instrument my Dad could play with any degree of competence, was a ‘wind-up’ gramophone.

In 1948, just a few days before Uncle Billy died, I was at home in Croydon, off school, through some illness or other, which caused me to be bedded down in my room.  It was afternoon, still light outside, and lying there, I suddenly sensed there was someone in my bedroom, and when I looked there was Uncle Billy sitting on a chair looking at me.  Although there was nothing frightening about Uncle Billy, the fact he was sitting by my bed, made me alarmed; and, I can remember screaming out for Mum, who happened to be in the garden bringing in the washing from off of the line.  The moment I screamed out, Uncle Billy disappeared. Mum hurtled into my bedroom to see what was wrong, by which time I was sobbing my heart out.  She calmed me down, listened to what I had to say, but  reckoned that I must have been dreaming.  A few days later, Uncle Billy passed away, and  Mum was told by one of her family.  For some reason, Mum and I never really discussed my ‘experience’, after Uncle Billy’s death --

-- whether or not it was some sort of extra-sensory occurrence on my part ---- or merely a ‘dream’ as Mum seemed to think---- I really don’t know!  In my own mind, I don’t think it was a dream ---- he was too real for that ---- but nor can I believe that I was given some sort of premonition.  That sort of thing has never happened to me since ---- I’m happy to say  ---- because it was unsettling, and I’ve never forgot it!

My cousins, Shirley and Wendy, both grew up into very attractive young ladies.  Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I think they both won prizes in Beauty Competitions.   I’m pretty sure that it was them, although for my part, any of my girl cousins could have achieved such acclaim for their looks.

  
        Shirley, married Clifford Hole at Keynsham Parish Church, in 1958.  At the time of their marriage, I was doing my National Service, serving Queen and Country on some far flung piece of rock in the Mediterranean (i.e. Malta), hence I am a little bit hazy as to how many of the family attended their wedding.
According to the newspaper report covering our cousin Derek’s wedding, two years later in 1960, it mentions that some 38 family members travelled down from Catford to Bristol to what I suppose must have been for Shirley’s wedding.

In the absence of her own Dad, I believe our Uncle Jim ---- her Dad’s younger brother ---- gave Shirley away at her wedding ceremony, and I believe that he did likewise for Wendy, when she married Eric Goodall in 1962.

Shirley and Cliff’s marriage produced two sons, Geoffrey and Lawrence, who both subsequently married.  Unfortunately Wendy’s marriage didn’t stay the course and came to an end in 1968.

The doors on Grannie Brett / Dunsdon’s life finally closed on the 25 November 1936, two years before I was born.  She had an unenviable end to her life, suffering constant pain.  Mum always said she died of ‘carcinoma of the bones’, which  I gather, is a condition where bones get very brittle, and can break with the slightest knock or sudden movement.  Cousin Joyce recalls visiting Grannie in hospital.  Although she had no great love for her as a person, Joyce did recognize that she was in absolute agony, wired, as she was, to a frame to stop her moving about and damaging herself still further.  She also reckons that it was no way for anyone to end their life!
     My parents kept the funeral card in respect of Grannie Brett/ Dunsdon, which shows that she is buried in Ladywell Cemetery, Catford, in Grave No. 4705, Plot D.  The verse which is on the card seems to be particularly apt in respect of how she died: -

Oh, weep not for her, she lingered in pain,
                                                     And all that was done for her, all was in vain,
                                          At last she was taken – with Christ she is now,
                                        And glory unfading encircles her brow.

My Dad has penned a little note on the card, to the effect that Grannie Brett/Dunsdon’s funeral took place on the 30 November, 1936, and that the Crystal Palace burned down during that particular night.  It seems a somewhat irreverent, thing to have written on the funeral card.  I wonder why he did it!  Was he trying to remember the date of her funeral or the date of the fire?
I have managed to get hold of a copy of Grannie Brett / Dunsdon’s Death Certificate, showing that she did indeed die on the 25 November 1936, at 72a, East Dulwich Grove, in the Metropolitan Borough of Camberwell.  According to her Death Certificate, the official cause of her death was combination of----  (a) ‘Carcinoma of the liver and Femur’ ---- and (b),  ‘?  Primary in Bronchus’.
Although I am not certain, I believe that the address where she died, was the address of St. Francis Hospital at Dulwich.  Apparently, the hospital had originally been built as the Constance Road Workhouse back

in 1896.  Later it became known as the Constance Road Infirmary and specialized in caring for the deserving poor, mentally ill and handicapped people, as well as the elderly and unmarried mothers.  The hospital continued in that vein until 1930 when the infirmary came under the control of the London County Council and started to care for chronically sick people.  It was renamed St. Francis hospital at sometime during 1936.  Whether it was renamed prior to Grannie Brett / Dunsdon’s death, or afterwards, isn’t known.
 I checked with Lewisham Crematorium, who hold the records for burials in the Borough of Lewisham, to see if Grannie Brett/Dunsdon’s grave was still available to be seen at Ladywell Cemetery.  They told me that originally her body had been removed from Camberwell Parish, where she had died, and had been buried in an unmarked public/pauper’s grave.  The grave itself was still in position, though there is no headstone.  The grave can be located by looking at the other

 headstones ---- presumably they show a Grave Number ---- or, by asking a gardener / gravedigger.
The Public Grave notice that they sent me states that she was 65 years old, and had been the wife of William Dunsdon a painter.  However, her Death Certificate indicates that she was the widow of William Dunsdon, which implies that he had died sometime before her.  If the latter is true and she had been the widow of William Dunsdon, then there is no way that her eldest son Arthur Brett could have seen old man Dunsdon in Catford in the 1950’s.  There is of course always the possibility, since Dunsdon had been banished from living with Grannie Brett/Dunsdon in the family home from about 1919-1920, nobody actually knew of, or even cared to discover his whereabouts when Grannie Brett/Dunsdon died.  If that was the case, it may have been more ‘convenient’ to tell the Registrar of Deaths that her husband had pre-deceased her.
If old man Dunsdon was still alive at that time

, but living elsewhere, I wonder if he ever found out about her death?  
Exactly why Grannie Brett/Dunsdon was buried in a public/pauper’s grave isn’t clear.  Although her various children may have had certain misgivings about their childhood with the man called Dunsdon, the siblings were essentially a close and loving family, and I cannot see how her remaining seven children would have allowed their mother to have such an ignominious funeral.  With the exception of one son, they were all married and all in employment.  Therefore, one would think that between them they would have been able to afford a modest funeral for their mother, even if they weren’t earning fantastic wages.  There had been two previous deaths in the family in 1929 and 1934, namely Joseph Brett one of their older siblings, and a James Bailey, who was cousin Peter’s father.  To the best of my knowledge, neither of them was given a pauper’s funeral!
Towards the end of 1938, just two years after

the death of Grannie Brett/Dunsdon, her youngest son, Jimmy Dunsdon, took the plunge into matrimony.
Jimmy, who was the youngest of all the Brett/Dunsdon children, was born in 1911. According to my Mum, when Jimmy was a young boy he was an ‘absolute little bugger’!  If he didn’t get his own way, he’d sit at the bottom of the stairs shouting at the top of his voice for whatever it was he was wanting at that moment in time..  She recalled on one occasion when he wanted a slice bread, when there wasn’t any in the house, and he sat for ages screaming out ‘IWANNABITABREAD-IWANNABITA BREAD-IWANNABITABREAD-IWANNABITABREAD-IWA NNABITABREAD-IWANNABITABREAD’, which he kept up, until someone finally found some and gave into him.
        The following is a picture of him as a little boy, with his sister ‘Georgie’ and his brother Billy, and it looks as though both he and his brother could well have been right couple of tearaways!

In actual fact they both grew up to be good-looking men, full of fun.  
Jimmy, was the only one of  Grannie Brett/Dunsdon’s, eight children, that she never got to see married. However, I am pretty sure that she had met her intended daughter-in-law, some time before she passed away.

        Although I doubt very much that Jimmy and Dolly’s wedding was the catalyst, less than a year after they married,  World War II was declared.  Shortly afterwards Jimmy entered the army for the duration of the war, and served in the Royal Engineers, until the conflict was over.  As far as I know, he never served abroad.  Quite what he did in the war remains a mystery to me.  All I know is that he used to pop around to our house every so often to see his sister, i.e., my Mum, in  his jeep.  As a kid I was very impressed to have an uncle who was a soldier and not only did he visit in army uniform, but also turned up in a military vehicle.  In the days when hardly anybody owned cars, to my mind, you had to be very important if you were allowed to drive army vehicles. Sometimes he’d give me and my friends a drive around the block before he left to continue  ---- as I thought ---- to go and fight the Germans.

As a couple, Jimmy and ‘Little’ Dolly, were most attractive and quite outward-going ---- enjoying an active social life. They attended dances on a regular basis, and, if there were any family parties that were held in a hall, you could more or less guarantee that they would be the first couple up on the dance floor.
  

After World War II finished, Jimmy duly returned to his returned to his old job which had been with the Gas Company, at Bell Green, Sydenham.  It was the same place where his older brother Arthur Brett  had worked since before the First World War. I don’t know about Arthur, but Jimmy tended to do quite a lot of ‘private’ work involving gas fitting and plumbing. He would go to his various jobs on his old bicycle, carrying a big bag of tools strapped to the back carrier of the bike, and various lengths of pipework tied to the crossbar. He most certainly didn’t have the use of a van to take his gear about ---- and the cellar of his home was an Aladdin’s Cave of plumbing and gas-fitting paraphernalia.
Probably the reason that Jimmy did so many private jobs, was the fact that he and ‘Little’ Dolly were trying to buy their own home at 39, Hurstbourne Road in Forest Hill. They were, as far as I can recall, the only members of the Brett/Dunsdon family that went down the road of actual

ly owning their own home. Although it wasn’t as large as the house in Marmora Road where his sister ‘Georgie’ lived, it was still quite large.  In fact for years, ‘Little’ Dolly’s mother, Mrs Skinner, lived in a separate flat upstairs. Although I was taken over to their house quite a lot as a child, I seldom ever saw Mrs. Skinner there.  I suppose that they got on well enough with each other, but childhood memories seem to tell me that it wasn’t necessarily a harmonious relationship, as I would
sometimes hear Uncle Jim complaining to my Mum about the drawbacks of living with his mother-in-law.
On the 30 January 1947, Jimmy and Dolly, became parents themselves, when their son Alan was born.  He was, therefore, the youngest of my cousins ---- I was almost 9 years old by the time he came on the scene, and consequently I didn't really have all that much to do with him because of the gap in our ages.

  By the time I was getting into my teens, Alan was about four or five, and was very much the apple of his parent’s eyes. On the occasions we did meet up, it was invariably at some family gathering or other.
  Because my cousin Derek and I were of a similar age to each other we tended to stick together at such times to amuse ourselves, and poor Alan, who was little more than a toddler to us, always seemed to be a bit of a nuisance.  He always wanted to join in with whatever we were doing ----- and if we didn’t let him --- then he would go and tell his Dad, (Jimmy), who would give us both, a ticking-off!  Even if we were playing a card game, or a board game, and we allowed him to  join in, he would still go and report us to his Dad for not letting him win!  Consequently, he became a bit of a thorn in our side, and we tended not to like him.  Also, he was always dressed very neatly and didn’t seem to like getting himself messed-up, so that never endeared him to us

either.

I suppose strictly speaking, Derek and I must have been  viewed in the same way by our older cousins, where there was a similar sort of age gap.  But having said that, there was only one boy cousin, who was considerably older than us ---- namely Peter ---- and we didn’t really have much to do with him until we got to our middle to late teens.  I wonder if we got on his nerves? Perhaps it’s one of those questions I shouldn’t ask!
Most of our other cousins were girls, and we tended not to play with them anyway.  Dot and Wendy were closest in age to us ---- both of whom struck me a being quite good fun ---- but we rarely saw Wendy, since she lived down in Keynsham with her family.
  The only other boy cousin that we had of a similar age to us, was Tony, who was somebody else that we only saw on rare occasions.  Personally, I was never too keen on Tony in those days ---- probably because we seemed to have nothing in common.  I recall that he was a Boy Scout who worked

 his way ‘up through the ranks’ with badges galore.  I was never that way inclined!  The nearest I eve got to being a member of the scouting fraternity, was a three week stint in the Cub Scouts. It all came to a sudden end when I was given an ultimatum by some nameless bully of a woman, that if I didn’t stop messing about at the meetings she would tell my parents, and I wouldn’t be allowed to stay in the Cubs. I pre-empted her acting on that threat by not turning up to anymore meetings after that.  All was okay, until Mum suddenly announced that she was going to get me a Cub uniform!  I then had to confess to Mum,  that I hadn’t actually been going to cubs for several weeks.  She gave me a severe telling-off, mainly because she suddenly realized that she hadn’t known what I’d been doing on those nights that I was supposed to be at Cubs.  However, even though I was being chastised, I’m pretty certain that I sensed  there was some relief in her mind, if only for the fact she hadn’t splashed

out and bought me a uniform.
Anyway, back to  Jimmy and Dolly. Any big family parties, outside of  the Christmas ones at ‘Big’ Aunt Doll’s, seemed to be held at their house.  Several of my cousins’ 21st. Birthday Parties were held at their home.  Derek’s was, and so was mine and Wendy’s.  Because Wendy and my birthdays were only a week apart, we had a combined  21st,  and, like the ‘Big’ Aunt Doll’s Christmas parties, they were all highly enjoyable, and memorable affairs ----- even to someone like me, who wasn’t keen on parties or large gatherings!  On behalf of all my cousins, and our senior departed relatives, I would like to say a somewhat belated thank you to Jimmy and ‘Little‘ Dolly for allowing us to use their home on such occasions, and giving us so many happy memories to look back on.
Cousin Alan, grew up and married a girl called Lynne, but sadly the marriage didn’t last, although they did have a son, whom they called Paul, who in turn has married and got

 a family of his own.  Later, Alan met up with, and married  a girl called Anne. To the best of my knowledge they now live in Chelmsford, Essex and have a young family of their own; the children being half brothers or sisters to Paul, from Alan’s first marriage.
Over the years, I have had only he briefest of contacts with my cousin Alan, but I would hasten to add, that the lack of contact is not because of my earlier views of him as a little boy.  I have grown-up since then, and I’m sure I’d be quite happy to play with him now. Unfortunately, the age gap between us is still about ten years, and as I creep ever onwards towards senility, I wonder  if the boot would now be on the other foot!  Would I  now be  a  nuisance to him, like he once seemed to me?   They say, ‘what goes around ---- comes around’, so perhaps I shouldn’t be too dismayed if he felt that way about me!
But ‘No’, the only reason for the loss of contact is exactly the same as  what has happened bet

ween all of my Brett/Dunsdon cousins.  We all grew up, married, started families of our own, changed our jobs, and moved to different parts of the country. Raising a family, holding down jobs, plus coping with all the other needs of life, rather tends to limit the ability to stay in contact with all our relatives, friends and colleagues that we acquire over a lifetime.
I suppose it must have been the same for Grannie/Brett Dunsdon and all her siblings, and that is why our parents never spoke much about their aunts and uncles ---- as they possibly didn’t tend to see them very often.  Some of the photos that my Mum left me, include pictures of herself, and sometimes of her sisters, where a note has been scribbled on the back.  They read, something like ‘With love to Auntie and Uncle, from your ever-loving niece, Florrie.’   The only trouble is, none of them say her aunt or uncle’s name.  It would have been nice to know which ones she was still in contact with at the time the pic

tures were taken, which appears to have been about 1915 – 1925.
Whether or not I ever manage to discover more about my mother’s family and their origins, remains to be seen.  I still don’t know for certain whether Grannie Brett/Dunsdon herself, came from a poor background or a fairly affluent one.  The area in which she lived doesn’t lead me to believe that her family was well-off financially. My wife, Barbara’s family, also lived within a stone’s throw, of the Monkton’s, Brett’s and Dunsdon’s, in Old Hoxton; and, from what I gather from her side of the family, they didn’t exactly live comfortably. Money was short, and times were hard. Her Grandad owned his own butchering business, but they were by no means wealthy.
Certainly from the moment Grannie Brett/Dunsdon met up with the man called Dunsdon, things weren’t too rosy for her, and as a consequence, my Mum and all her brothers and sisters, had a very poor start to their lives. Nevertheless, they all managed to

 make reasonably good lives for themselves, and without exception,  they ensured that their own children never endured the same sort of hardships that they had to put up with.
From my own point of view, compared to my mother’s early life, I had a comfortable and mostly enjoyable childhood.
  I had parents who loved me, who did their very best for me in every conceivable way, plus an extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins that I felt comfortable with;  all of whom, have given me nothing but good times to look back on.
  Hopefully, this little piece on my Mother’s family background will go some way to answering any questions that our grandchildren might have, when we are no longer around, and to show them that there is a wider family out there, to which they belong.
 It has also been a very pleasant way of passing some of  my retirement as a means of remembering and mentally thanking them for the part they played in my life. The fol

lowing few pictures of the family are as they looked some fifty-odd years ago, in the 1950’s and 1960’s, and as now see them in my mind’s eye.  Nobody has aged, and to my mind, nobody has gone. They’re just ‘around the corner’, should I ever need them.

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