Before I Forget
Book One
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
I love girls! I always have. I always will. My very first memory is of one, her name was Aileen Farrell. She, then, was about nineteen years older than I. She had just come down from Oxford University to teach English at my father’s school for young men. These students, with luck, were about to enter either Sandhurst or Woolwich military establishments. Called Hays, my father’s school was set in the country near Shaftesbury in Dorset in southern England. I was three at the time; Puffin was the name of our overweight spaniel; and a pony and trap (cart) were the usual method of travel to and from Semley, the nearby village. Close to the big house was a small, thatched cottage where I was kept, well out of the way and in the care of a Nanny. As there was no bathroom in the cottage, which was par for the course in the 1920’s, and because I was a fairly normal kid who frequently required scrubbing from head to toe, it was regular practice to place a hip bath in the next room to the kitchen for this purpose. Again, like most boys of my age, I was loathe to peel off my clothes and suffer the indignity of being dunked and scrubbed by a member of the opposite sex. In fact, I ran yelling around the tub on this occasion with my Nanny in hot pursuit. Unsurprisingly, I slipped and fell, base over teakettle, into a tub which was full of next-to-boiling water. The Nanny, showing minimal intelligence, had mixed no cold water with the hot. Firmly entrenched in my memory is how swiftly Aileen appeared and scooped me out immediately to tend to the burns and blisters which were fast appearing upon my derriere. It is fitting that my first memory is of Aileen, for she kept appearing in my life, always with warmth and affection though once in a while with stubbornness, as will be seen later. She too, made her home in this country and I often wondered over the years why she had left our home in England in such a hurry. Had she fallen in love with my father? Many had, I learned later. Time would tell. My father, Linton F. Wynne Willson (no hyphen in those days) was always known as "The Major." This was the rank with which he was demobilized from the Royal Flying Corps and before that the British Army at the end of World War I. The title fit him to a T. He was the owner of a superb sense of humor and a love for life, his fellow man, girls and all sports. He also was subject to moods, which could chill us all and which could last for days on end. These moods we christened "frosts" in the family and when he was in one he barely spoke and it was unwise to speak to him. I never did find out what triggered this state of affairs, but it was a most effective way for him to obtain privacy! How my mother coped with such enforced silence, God only knows. There was a rumor around that she, who was quite straight-laced and most religious, drove him to take such refuge. I find it hard to believe though. It was quite normal to be somewhat scared and in awe of one’s father then, but due to "frosts" I started out a bit more scared than most. This was not due only to this malaise, but also because he was brilliant scholastically and already I had started to feel inadequate in that department. Born on April 5th, 1879, he became a scholar at Winchester College and then went on to Trinity College, Oxford. From Oxford, he ran off to enlist and was granted his commission as an Officer personally signed by Queen Victoria. It still hangs proudly in my study here at home. Upon his return from the Boer War in Africa, he became headmaster of his own school. My mother, who was born October 6th, 1876, was one of five children. She had three sisters and one brother. My father had three brothers and two sisters. My mother was the only sister to marry; though why I never could gather! The others I’m sure, never were at a loss for opportunities. A kinder and more thoughtful lady than my Mum would have been next to impossible to find. As I mentioned, her Church of England faith, implanted by her parents at an early age, was a mainstay for her life. This was particularly comforting when trying to cope with her champagne life built upon a beer income. Dad was a hopeless businessman whose generosity was only exceeded by his personal charm. Sadly, he never had the wherewithal with which to be financially generous, so Mum faced nothing but bills, bills, and more bills. Happily, this state of affairs was mostly kept from my sister Betty and myself at that stage, however by instinct we always seemed to know when things really got bad.
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
I am 81 now and since finishing this, my first effort, ages ago I've been not a little embarrassed since then when asked, what is "BEFORE I FORGET!'' all about? My answer of "Me!" sounds awful but that's it, plus many more intriguing and interesting personalities and situations, thank goodness. My life certainly hasn't reached great prominence, but it's been by no means humdrum either so I feel it, perhaps, worth sharing with others. Suffice to say it is about growing up in Jollye Olde from 1919 to 1936; a terrific year as an Exchange Student at a great prep school in Rhode Island; returning to the UK in '37 and, promptly, starting work as a trainee in a big thread-making company. This, being a disaster, made me join the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve on my 20th birthday, September 13, 1939, (a) to get out of what I was doing and (b) hopefully to become a pilot! An exciting, often scary, but always fascinating war followed for seven years, which included night-fighter squadrons and experimental work; crazy situations; marriage to a girl I met when at school in Newport, and the struggle for normalcy after I was demobilized. We left the UK for the States in 1948 for sundry reasons. Then started a life with never a dull moment! Hairbrush then English car salesman; marmalade-making in our 1780 home in Hamilton, MA; radio and television in the US and in the UK; special events announcer; two children adopted; US citizen; PR Director for the New England Aquarium . . . to name but a few! The book ends with the passing of my late wife, to whom it is dedicated. Book Two of BEFORE I FORGET starts a couple of years later and is still in the works. It will be dedicated, of course, to Annie, my present wife of 33 years.
About the Author
Michael Wynne-Willson was born in London, England, on September 13, 1919. His arrival must have been a severe shock to his mother, as she was 45 at the time. Educated in England until 1936, he was granted an English Speaking Union Scholarship to St. George's School, Newport, Rhode Island, for one year. On arrival, it is rumored that on meeting his future Headmaster, he allowed that he was there to broaden his mind and not his education. Mr. Merrick, his Headmaster and great friend for life, allowed that he never once let him down! Back in England in 1937 with war clouds forming. Jackie Chambers, a girl Michael met while at school in America, visits him in England. Marriage is discussed in Paris, but with war imminent and innumerable other and important reasons, not to mention lack of funds, Jackie catches the last boat back to the USA, the Manhattan, from Le Havre. Michael joins the RAF on his 20th birthday, hoping to become a pilot. As there are no planes in which to train everyone, he is sent to an aerodrome far north in Scotland to peel potatoes in the Officers' Mess. From 1939 to 1946 there were few dull moments. Night-fighter squadrons and experimental work in single and twin-engine aircraft; earliest airborne radar; his only war wound, shot in the head, etc., by a kid who thought Michael was a fox in the grass! Gunnery Officer training on Spitfires and then to RAF Station Greenwood, Nova Scotia, Canada, to instruct training instructors returning to the UK in operational use of rocket-firing from Mosquito aircraft. No Mosquito aircraft capable of carrying rockets available. Frustration. Married Jackie Chambers in Middleburg, VA, on May 6, 1944 with large attendance of brother officers from Greenwood. 'D Day' landings missed; more frustration. Michael returns home by air. Jackie by sea and her ship developed engine trouble; two days adrift, submarines everywhere. To the RAF's Night-Fighter Interception Unit and Central Fighter Establishment on return. Demobilized and into British European Airways as an Airport Manager trainee. Good progress but Jackie has medical problems so decision made to go to the USA to live. 1948. Can't take any money even if it was available, which it wasn't. Kent of London brush salesman on arrival in New York; cold-water flat at $25.00 per month; move to Boston and sell British cars, briefly; Move to Hamilton, MA; buy house with 8 acres of land for $12,5000; make marmalade and assorted products, own radio shows; TV reporter n the US and UK; adopt two children; mobile broadcasting studio to major events on East coast; Jackie inherits funds; again never a dull moment! Jackie loses brief battle with cancer in 1967. Michael, Mark and Wendy; the dogs Minus and Duchess, the cat Perky and Piglet the pony, continued to live in Hamilton for a while.