Chapter 7

(1952-53)

Life in Singapore

                                                                       Kath was getting involved with the Guides again and I was quite glad to hear that they had a meeting place already. After the Brownie meetings in our caravan I was not too keen on sharing our one small room with a dozen assorted Guides.  The Guides were under the wing of the local church, St. Hilda's, which led to St. Andrews Cathedral which, in turn, was involved with several hospitals and the puppets were welcomed with open arms.

Our first performance together in Singapore was to be at the Children's Orthopaedic Hospital.  Although I had the puppets from the   tour and could make up a simple stage  with hospital screens, we had no music, so we bought our first record player and with a few well chosen '78s' we were in business again.  That first hospital show was a lovely experience. Children of all the Eastern nationalities were imprisoned in various fearful contraptions for straightening and mending their bones and they thoroughly enjoyed the show.  There was, of course, the usual RAF officer's wife honouring everyone with her presence, who, when informed that I was also in the Air Force, asked,

 "What rank are you, Flight Lieutenant, Squadron Leader?"

When I told her I was but a lowly corporal she fluttered her hands in confusion.  Officers know and accept that the Service is run by Warrant Officers and NCOs and will sit happily in their offices for hours, sharpening pencils and signing reports written by their underlings.  Their wives, however, find this too much to bear and usually tend to suffer from inflated superiority complexes.   The worst such wife that we ever encountered was an ex-barmaid who felt that the main function of Other Ranks Wives was to act as baby sitters.                                                              

The hospital shows were usually very successful and we felt it was time to widen our scope and rebuild the full proscenium theatre.  Having had  a moderate success with the open front stage on the tour I should have had the sense to continue and improve on that aspect of marionette entertainment.  However, the full proscenium theatre was still typical of the period, especially as we still wanted to perform plays and to have less seemed to be unprofessional.  We were still two years from buying our first car and yet we embarked on another huge unwieldy contraption.  The main frame this time was to be one inch (2.5mm) diametre cane; its flexibility controlled by constructing girders of semi-square section.  The sketch on the left gives an indication of the two main uprights of the stage front.  It looks a bit rough but was quite rigid when completed.  The stage itself was to be the faithful suitcase with a folding platform on top; the bridge and rail consisting of a carrying box and more cane.  Everything had a length limitation of about four feet (120 cms.) as our transport was usually the taxi service although we occasionally used a couple of trishaws when travelling between two shows on the same day in town.  The riders complained and demanded excess fares but we never missed a show. 

Apart from puppet trips in taxies, Kath and I mostly used the buses; they were cheaper than taxies, faster than trishaws and far more interesting than the occasional Services coach to camp. There was no glass in the windows, just wooden shutters to keep out the odd monsoon downpour, so they were cool and airy but there were hazards.  Like the betel nut chewers who might spit a stream of red juice across you and out of the window or the women who's shopping included a raffia tied bundle of live crabs, waving and clawing next to you.  One evening a beetle flew in through the window and straight down the front of Kath's dress.  The mainly Chinese passengers refused to be amused by her frenzied dance in the gangway and remained quite inscrutable.  It was a memorable experience to sit opposite a Chinese girl in the sideways seats; the traditional cheongsam was slit to the upper thigh (the European fashion at the time was the calf length 'new look'). 

Officers were not allowed to use local buses but were provided with cars.  Station Commanders, however, are a law unto themselves and our's often travelled this way but always removed his Group Captain's badges of rank from his shoulder epaulettes and stuffed his 'scrambled egg' hat down his shirt front. 

Sometimes I had to change buses at Bedok Corner and whist awaiting my connection I might buy a syrupy ice ball from the drinks vender and watch the fishermen out on the stakes; a line of poles supporting a wicker fence to direct fish into the trap net at the end, perhaps a quarter mile out to sea.  A wisp of smoke emerged from the ramshackle hut balanced precariously above the traps as the fishermen sampled a fresh specimen from the latest catch.

We enjoyed doing our shows although there were difficulties at times such as when we performed at the Victoria Memorial Hall, the big doubled halled civic centre in Singapore town.  We were to perform in one hall and just before we plugged in our sound equipment we were told that the supply was DC (Direct Current) and would have blown out the radio's mains transformer.  Luckily the hall next door had AC (Alternating Current) and the caretaker was able to run an extension lead along the passage to save the show.

Our favourite show was when we 'sang for our supper' at the Cathedral.  Instead of a fee we were to be wined and dined at a Chinese dinner given for all those who were involved in the Cathedral's charitable activities.  The meal was not a full dinner, consisting as it did, of  a mere twelve courses.  The amazing part of it was its preparation.  Each course was beautifully prepared and presented to the many tables by street vendors whose normal habitat was the town squares and parks.  Each one prepared his own speciality on a glowing brazier carried from one end of a shoulder pole; dishes and food hung from the other end.  About twenty of these itinerant 'Fast Food' purveyers (like the one at right) had set up in the passage and down the stone steps of the Cathedral meeting house.  The timing and cooperation amongst this motley crew would have shamed the Savoy kitchens;  each course was served piping hot and at no time during the couple of hours was there an empty plate or an uncleared dish on the table.  Bowls of rose petals floating in perfumed water and warm towels followed each dish requiring the use of fingers; in fact, every nicety expected of a high class restaurant was provided. It was a delightful evening.

How different was the dinner given by another church some time later.  A typical British meal of tough beef, wet cabbage and leathery Yorkshire puddings was eyed with some suspicion by the many local guests who attempted to resuscitate the soggy mass with a warm blanket of brown sauce.

King George had died suddenly shortly before I left for Singapore and so the young Queen's Coronation was a fine excuse for the people of the island to show how such an occasion should be celebrated.  A vast fire breathing dragon was built on a tug and two barges and which prowled the coastline day and night.  It was most impressive at night when the boats were invisible but the brightly lit dragon fumed and roared around the coast. The traders of every street tried to outdo each other in dressing their areas with light and spectacle. A team of pyrotechnists had been brought from Japan to devise a firework display which was to include a secret item.  We watched the display from the Service Club, half a mile from the firing area.  The final, special item was entitled "Be Glorious Great Britain".  An enormous aerial bursting rocket showered the town with thousands of tiny parachute supported silk Union Flags.  In spite of the distance, a dozen or so drifted into the club grounds.

The latest 'Pride of Britain', the Comet jet aircraft commenced its Far East runs while we were there and as the runway at the commercial Kalang airport was too short they used Changi for the proving flights and the first commercial runs.  Once the civil airport was extended commercial flights began there but were soon stopped when Comets began to fall out of the sky.  A few years later we saw the huge water tanks at Farnborough that tested the fuselages to destruction. The boffins, testing the fuselages to destruction, found the answer to be metal fatigue.  The world had cause to thank Britain for the priority, courage and skill with which the problem was investigated, causes found and information passed immediately to International aircraft manufacturers.

Half way through our tour we had gained sufficient points for a married quarter.  Jean and Pat who had occupied the big front bedroom moved out some time before and we had taken over their much more comfortable room but it would be nice to have a whole house to ourselves.  After all, Kath was expanding and threatened to make us share our one room with a third party.

Jean and Pat had been given a modern bungalow on the new Lloyd Leas estate outside the main camp.  Built on scrub land it tended to still harbour the original occupants and one morning Jean found a cobra enjoying the tiles of the shower room.  The snake was dispatched by the Malay grounds-man very carefully; not so much from the danger but in order to preserve the saleable skin from damage.

We were not sorry to be allocated one of the big, cool, pre-war, stone built houses on the main camp, half way up Hospital Hill; a most convenient position considering Kath's condition.

Puppetry was beginning to lose out to Kath's other forthcoming production; she was becoming noticeably less nimble backstage and was finding some difficulty in stretching over the leaning rail.  On the evening of the 25th October 1953 we went to the camp cinema (a '30's Tarzan film).  We must have eaten too much as Kath kept complaining of indigestion and threatened to make me miss the end of the film.  The indigestion soon became regular stomach cramps but it was two in the morning before I had to start running. There was no telephone near the married quarters.  Tony and Joy, our friends and neighbours two doors away had made me promise to wake them at the first warning.  All my loose change and a handful of gravel clattered into their bedroom through the open shutters but they slept on.  Back to Kath; it was no false alarm so only one thing to do.

The hospital was only a quarter of a mile away but on top of the hill.  The road spiralled up, greatly increasing the distance but there was a direct ascent up wooden steps.  First flight, out of breath; second flight, legs turning to jelly; third flight, lungs bursting; fourth flight, knee caps exploding but level ground reached at last.  The maternity ward was on the top floor; two more flights of stairs!  Clutching the door of the Sister's office for support I rasped,

"My wife. The baby."  She eyed me tolerantly,

"Calm down and go and tell her the ambulance will be there directly.  You men go all to pieces!" 

Christopher Guy arrived and the rest of our tour becomes a study in paediatrics.  The Singapore disease spread like wild-fire.  All the young wives around became young matrons and the houses filled with babies and baby talk in  succession. 

Not only does C.G. possess three birth certificates; normal British version, RAF personnel in foreign parts type, and the local Singapore one in various languages but he also has three birth dates.  He was born at 4.30 AM on the 26th.  I went to the post office at nine o'clock and sent telegrams to both our parents.  There is a seven hour time difference between Singapore and the telegram took six and a half hours to arrive.  Kath's mother received hers at 8.30 but as it was stamped 9AM, she was convinced that he was born on the 25th and that is the date reported in the Wiltshire Times.  The jeweller made a mistake on his Christening mug; it says the 20th!

Puppets stayed in their cases for a few months but when not pushing the pram I was able to start on some new figures.  My first efforts had been 12-15 inches (30 - 37 cms) but each successive group increased in size and had now reached about 20 inches (50 cms).  At this size the lightness of the balsa wood I still used was less noticeable.  Heads and bodies were in this wood with limbs of one inch (2.5 cms) or larger cane; unlike bamboo, this is a solid but slightly flexible rod.  The solo sand dancer was joined by a female Eastern dancer, a camel and a fat Arab on a flying carpet.  The camel was a mere head, hump and very little body seen only above a ground row.

We did a few more shows before returning home and although we could always find a baby sitter we were never happy leaving Chris for long.  We preferred to spend our time around the house and at the beach.  Chris was becoming a bit of a handful.  He could climb before he could walk so cane fences were constructed at top and bottom of the stone staircase and all around the veranda  at the back.  He was fascinated by the chit-chats; small lizards that scuttled about the ceiling after flies and often climbed chairs in an attempt to reach them.

Just in case you wondered whence came Chris's silly hat! (top left)

We feared for his sanity during the full moon.  Standing up, clutching the bars of his cot he would chatter to the moon for hours in the evening and would only be lulled to sleep by one of us marching up and down singing "Onward Christian Soldiers", at full voice.  The hymn must have been imprinted as some years later he considered it for his wedding march.

Our Amah was a young girl of sixteen and we were her first Mem and Sahib.  She learned her first English from us and early communication consisted of sign language and picture writing; my shopping lists for her resulted in some funny purchases.  Her main ambition after C's birth was to take out out Mem's baby, "Kissy" (Chrissy).  We finally relented and she would hold him straddled on her hip and take him on the rounds of the Amahs and to the village.  What with that and his daily long discussions with the Tamil sweeper, it is a wonder he ever learned to speak English.                    

Unlike like most of the servants, Hwa came from a fairly well off family and on her time off would change from her usual 'pyjama suit' and bare feet into a smart western dress or cheongsam and 'heels'.  She would then often be collected by a young man in a car  It was usual for young girls of the wealthier families to work as servants before marriage.  The philosophy being, "How can I tell a servant what to do unless I can it at least as well myself".

Many Service families (and all ranks had a servant) made their Amahs do everything from early morning until late at night.  I think we treated Hwa with a little more consideration.  Kath always did the cooking - except for the special welcome home dinner that Hwa and I prepared for Kath when she brought C home from hospital. This amused Hwa (as well as other Amahs around) as we went shopping, prepared and cooked together. 

A lot of our time was spent at the various swimming pools.

      Old costume            New costume                   No costume?             Ted showing off

         Water baby

The theatre  was never designed as a permanent affair as we knew it was too bulky to bring home, with all the other household stuff we were accumulating.  The principle of its construction was reminiscent of a Guide Camp gadget consisting mainly of canes bound with string.  So it was with little regret that it was taken apart and used for other projects such as the cages seen above. 

Work was pleasant at Changi.  The Valetta was, like most transports, a good plane for servicing and there was little pressure in spite of Malaya being a war zone.  Dress, except on parades, was casual as long as we kept the aircraft in the air.  There were some emergencies, of course. 

There was the time an aircraft with families aboard had just left to go 'up country' but one wheel would not retract.  Unable to dump fuel it circled for a couple of hours then we all settled down to watch as the pilot brought it in; the 'down' wheel popping up as it touched and we all cheered the perfect crash landing as the plane slithered to a stop.

There was another 'prop' accident as one of the air electricians from our section nipped under the wing to remove chocks for a take off and lost half his face.  Our Electrical Officer stayed with him in hospital for the few hours before he died.

There was the outbreak of polio when we spent a couple of weeks making a number of Positive Pressure breathing Machines: Landing-light motors driving dingy pumps with portable power supplies to fit wheelchairs.  I was on the conversion of airspeed indicators into air pressure gauges and others on the gearing, connections, nose tubes, relief valves, etc. to fly people back safely to Britain.

There was the time Algy and I had gone out to service an aircraft, well away from the hangers and switched on main power.  Someone had left the Pitot head heater switched on.  The pitot head is a tube that sticks out of the plane to catch air to measure airspeed and it has a heater so it does not ice up in flight and on the ground a cover to keep out dust and bugs.  We became aware of smoke curling up outside as the heater slowly incinerated the pitot head cover.  We dashed outside to find the burning remains of the cover and its long red warning tail burning, now on the oily and possibly inflammable sand.  We were fully trained professionals and immediate action was required; so we both presented and peed on it.

Our life in Singapore was coming to an end.  The life of plenty was about to give way to a Britain that was probably much as we had left it two and a half years ago, still a place of shortages and a little grey, especially as the winter would soon be awaiting us there.

As we would be flying home, a very light folding push chair was made, from the remains of the theatre, of course, to slip into our hand baggage.  It is still stored under the stairs 50 odd years later, minus its handle and the two wheels; why do we keep such useless objects? Christopher was eleven months old when we came home and was just beginning to walk so he was quite a handful, especially as we were on the first flight of the new Hermes transports.  As these were enlarged, longer ranged versions of the Hastings aircraft, it was decided to cut the Singapore to Blackheath (I assume that there was no family accommodation for travellers at Lyneham) run from four days to three.   Apparently it had not been tried fully loaded so we had to make a couple of extra fuelling stops.

We had to spend the last night in the transit block so as to make an early start.  The evening before we had said our goodbyes and left a tearful Hwa biting on our farewell present of gold (Always acceptable to the Chinese servant) ear-rings.  Chinese teeth can assess gold to the nearest carat.

We left Singapore before sunrise and stopped at Bangkok for breakfast, on to Calcutta for lunch, an unscheduled fuel stop at Delhi and tea, arriving for a night stop at Karachi about 10 pm. We were all exhausted but still still had to be sprayed with disinfectant before being allowed off the plane.

Twenty minutes on a ramshackle coach brought us to Mrs. Reilly's Guest house, newly opened for the 'improved' flights.  Later, the dribble from the shower made mere dusty tracks on our bodies and the following morning the lumpy porridge made similar tracks on the on the dusty plates.

On to Bahrain, a night stop at a really nice hotel at Nicosia, Cyprus, then Athens, Rome and RAF Blackheath for another night stop before we were away.  We stayed with my parents at South Harrow  for a couple of days before making our way to Kath's parents at Trowbridge.

Following an overseas posting one had three choices of posting and I was given my first choice which was RAF Melksham, the Technical Training camp that I left six years before; this being the closest camp to Trowbridge.   It meant, of course, leaving aircraft servicing and going back to teaching which I had quite enjoyed.  So, quite a few life changes all round.

Learnt:  Puppeteers really do need their own transport.

There are some things more important than puppets!