INTRODUCTION

BY

MARGARET SCARBOROUGH

When I first heard that my Uncle Alan had written some reminiscences of his life, I must confess I didn’t really take much notice.  Like all the familiar things that surround you during your lifetime, he, his jottings, family stories, and sense of humour were, as they had always been, just there.  They are like that really useful cupboard in the corner - taken for granted.
 
My cousin Janet, who is the only member of our family to have reached the heady heights of actually having books published, said Alan had asked her to look at his patiently typed manuscript with a view to editing it a bit.  After several cups of tea, a couple of buns and a bit of discussion, it was agreed that these reminiscences ought to be published - not only as a record of parts of our family life, but also because, like many people of his generation, Alan has led a full and interesting life. 

I volunteered to do the editing and took the manuscript home in a blue plastic carrier bag, with glib assertions that it would only take a couple of days to lick into shape.  Just a comma here or a slight change of grammar there was what I thought. Little did I know!  I began to realise that the old saying - you can’t judge a book by its cover - was never so true.

What I discovered was that my Uncle Alan had, as a teenager, worked in the harsh conditions which existed in the Grimsby fish industry, and then gone into the Navy as a lad of 18.  He was one of the few men who survived the torpedoing and sinking of HMS Charybdis, deprecatingly putting his survival down to having a nip of rum from a flask his grandmother had given him.   Two weeks later he was back at sea, involved in the war effort again.  When the war finished, like many other men, he had to return to civvy street and start again.  No stress counselling, no special favours, just having to get on with life.  And get on with life he did.

He was involved in bringing in innovative post war technologies, like frozen foods - who can now remember when peas didn’t come ready frozen?  He helped to test and introduce faster and lighter sports equipment for Olympic athletes.  He brought in new methods of office communication and organisation.  He went from being an office boy on a bike, selling coal and fetching milk, to a man who worked for expanding, worldwide companies like Unilever and Trust House Forte.  Along the way he has met some amazing people, some posh people, and some people - like his fellow Charybdis survivors - who have become lifelong friends.

It is amazing what you don’t know about the people you think you have known all your life.

But one thing I feel he would be saddened by is the way, sometimes, in which progress of any sort still seems elusive.   Only last week I went into one of the chain of roadside eateries he had helped lick into shape in the 1960s.  I just needed a cup of coffee - not much to ask for in these cappuccino latte days. After twenty five minutes of getting thirstier and ever more despondent, I realised that the only member of staff serving was never, ever going to come my way.  Not at least until I aged by another couple of months or so. I swore a solemn oath, which is not repeatable here, and vowed I would not set foot in one of these premises again unless Alan was with me.  He managed to sort things out forty years ago, perhaps he could so again!

His watery start in life - living near the sea, working by the sea - has now come full circle.  His retirement to Humberston means that now, instead of being at Grimsby Docks by 6am to help buy fish, he can now go along the seafront in his electric buggy at 6pm to buy some fish and chips for his tea.

So, for those who get to read this small slice of an “ordinary” life, I just hope they will appreciate, like me, that no one’s life is just ordinary