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PRE-WAR YEARS (2) (Click here for photo gallery)
This was the early 1930s. In 1933, from the age of three I went to a state nursery-infants' school. During the 1920s it became a wide practice to integrate nursery schools into infants' schools, or the infants' departments of elementary schools. This was largely inspired by the practice of working mothers to leave infants at elementary schools before they had reached the accepted age for normal admission - usually five years. The London County Council was one of the few authorities that were capable of really advanced thinking and innovation. My memory is inevitably somewhat hazy, but I clearly recall having some sort of educationally-related activities in the morning and sleeping on small cots in the afternoon. One of the activities that I recall with some amusement is having to perform in a presentation of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, where I was in the role of Baby Bear. This playlet was presented to an audience of parents (and possibly others) from the school stage. And I have total visual recall of holding out a bowl, purported to contain porridge, and adding to the statement "Someone's been eating my porridge" - accompanied by a conspiratorial grin - "It's not porridge, it's lundust!"(4) Verily, one does not apologise for chutzpah. And I didn't. Actually, I wasn't aware I had done anything "cheeky" until I heard my mother describe my performance to other family members later. I guess I was three or four at the time. This reference to my Jewish childhood (5) has served to remind me of another incident. The Jewish festival of Simchat Torah is particularly beloved of children. It is a time when they are given a flag on a stick, with an apple stuck on top and, frequently, a candle protruding from the apple. They may also get bags of sweets upon leaving the synagogue.
The incident that has come to my mind must have occurred in
1938, shortly after we had moved to Stoke Newington. The
house, shared with some of my mother's family, was two blocks
away from the synagogue. I remember returning with my
cousin Martin, both clutching bags of fruit bon-bons. Upon
entering the living room, where the family was gathered, I
passed my bag of sweets around until, finally, one of my aunts
said, "But, Joey, you haven't any left!" I was on the
verge of tears. At which point everyone insisted on
returning my sweets.
(5) My exposure to a religious
background persisted during the lifetime of my maternal
grandfather who, after the death of his wife, shared our home,
and was out of respect for his orthodoxy. Upon his own
death in 1948 all pretence at religious belief by my parents
ceased, although they continued to observe the customs and
external manifestations of the Jewish faith. My own
acknowledgement of my Jewish heritage - already considerably
shaken by my exposure to the Methodist environment of my Welsh
evacuation - had effectively ceased upon my bar-mitzvah
at age 13 under my grandfather's tutelage.Link
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