What life was really like in 1950s Britain may surprise you – Helen Martin

Paul O’Grady’s early life had similarities with Helen Martin’s despite the financial differences between their families.

Paul O'Grady's childhood recollections struck a chord with Helen Martin

LOOKING for something completely distracting from coronavirus, Cummings and all other current depressions, I decided to read Paul O’Grady’s autobiographies.

Like him I love cats and dogs, he – Lily Savage – was the best drag queen I can remember, like me he had an Irish family, and he’s only two years younger than me. So, the first one I began with was At My Mother’s Knee, a reflection on his childhood.

He lived in a rented home in the Tranmere area of Birkenhead and most people reading the description today would consider his mum and dad were in poverty.

Round about the same time, I was living in a semi in Giffnock (a middle-class area in East Renfrewshire) owned by my dad, an architect, and my mum a nurse.

But as he described life in his home in terms of how it worked, it was pretty much on a par with ours, and in a way that may surprise anyone around 50 or under.

Paul revealed how freezing it was, with winter ice on the inside as well as the outside of windows, and how beds were so cold that everyone had to think of ways to warm up. It was the same in Giffnock, and I had my father’s ex-army, wartime, heavy khaki coat on top of my blankets. It was so heavy I couldn’t move much.

While some schools had old-fashioned central heating and radiators, that wasn’t common in households. Like Paul, we had a shortage of brown bakelite power points and only electric bar heaters.

The main form of heating during the day for both houses was coal fires. The coalman arrived every two weeks for us because he could dump a couple of sacks in our cellar.

But there was no heating in the hall or other parts of the house other than paraffin heaters. The warmth was worth more than the stench and aged eight I learned how to fill the tank, clean the top of the wick, get it burning and reduce to a blue flame.

We had one in our bathroom and it was essential for a winter bath. One of the downstairs coal fires heated the hot water tank. To achieve that there was a hook at the back of the fire which redirected the heat. It took about three hours, so a bath was a weekly luxury for some. I was allowed to get in after my mum or big sister when the water was still warm.

We were one of the earliest neighbours who had a television (only BBC at the time) when a crowd joined my family to watch the Queen’s coronation. As a yelling baby I was left in another room!

Just like Paul O’Grady and the rest of my age group, there is one number we will never forget – the Co-op divi (dividend). Ours was 1336. There were no supermarkets back then and when we were sent to all the shops at the end of our street, a grocer, a butcher, and a greengrocer, we declared our number. Up the road was a Co-op furniture, hardware and school uniform shop too.

Paul O’Grady knew his Irish family had no toilet inside or out and used the family fruit orchard to relieve, and dock leaves to wipe – same for mine. There was no electricity, no water supply and no “cooker”. Instead we had oil lamps, a spring well and a turf fire. Plus an occasional body wash with a tin tub behind a curtain. How life has changed. But memories like that really are one of the best distractions from coronavirus and political mayhem.

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