Memoirs of a Working Man
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Young Bob lives through the Wars years, The Teddy Bob Teens, the Army years and beyond, but one thing still burns in my memory bank from a thousands memories is my very first kiss.
Ah yes! What magic memories. I’m talking real grown-up stuff now. None of your baby nonsense. The absolute height of savage excitement, 100 per cent toe-curling, senses reeling, mind-blowing sensations. These treasured moments are to be locked into one’s memory bank forever.
It was a hot summer’s evening way back in 1952. I was fourteen, she was thirteen. We had met at a dance and I’m still not sure how I had managed to pluck up the nerve to ask if I could take this gorgeous creature home. I was on cloud nine as we strolled the back streets of
The streetlights dazzled me as I gazed up into her eyes. I hesitated and chatted nervously, desperately searching for the courage to take her in my arms in a gentle but passionate embrace. Bravery was overcome by anxiety as I floundered and fluttered. She gazed adoringly into my eyes and murmured in my ear, ‘Err, wots yer name? Can you kiss me goodnight, ’cos I gotta go in; I’m busting for a pee!’
It fair turned me off.
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About the Book
Having been born at the tail end of a large family my grandparents died when I was still young and my parents died when I was in my early thirties.
In later life, apart from a few anecdotes I realised that we had a family history ‘void’, we had lost the opportunity to learn about their lives, their joys, their trials, their history – where did they meet, what was their everyday life like, two world wars and a depression must have thrown up some dramas, some tragedies, some excitement, it was all gone and we were left ignorant and wondering.
So I decided to record the patchwork quilt of our lives in the hope that some day our children and grandchildren may read, enjoy and perhaps understand the forces that shaped our lives and made us what we were.
In doing this we found that we had more laughs than tears, (although there was plenty of both) we are rich in family and friends, and that there is a certain kind of honour in being ‘an ordinary working man’!!
Read this book, you will not only find it interesting, funny with laughs aplenty, but unlike any autobiography you have ever read.
About the Author
Bob Oliver, born in 1938 in North London, eighth child in a family of ten, he learned to cope with the blitz, rationing, sadistic school teachers and picking up ‘fag ends’ from the streets for his ‘roll-ups’
He survived this largely due to the warmth and love of the family he was lucky enough to be born into,
His mother dedicated to keeping her flock clean and fed and a hard working Father who made sure there was always food on the table and instilled in his children. a strong work ethic, which they carried all through all their lives.
Bob left school almost illiterate but took a basic literacy course in the Army where he found a deep love for writing and with his inborn sense of humour recorded his (not unfunny) life stories for his much loved children and grandchildren.
He decided to write his memoirs to enable his kids, grandkids and all that follow to understand how lifestyles have changed and what it was like growing up through the Second World War as an ordinary working class person.
The Author now lives in