I first saw the light of day late one October evening (so it wasn't light then?) in 1947. I recall the first words I uttered. "Push, Mrs. Palmer" said the mid-wife, "I am trying to help, mum" I responded. Anthony was first, then me, Steven, always known as the
middle one and finally William. We were born in alphabetical order which was quickly reversed as Anthony became Tony and William became Bill. Our father wasn't present at the birth, not unusual for 1947, he was in the Red Lion. Legend has it that he phoned the maternity hospital and they explained that it was a multiple birth and just Anthony had appeared. Dad told mum before the birth, that if we were identical twin boys we would be called Pete and .....Repete. Dad had a few more pints and 'phoned back but dialled the wrong number. He was through to the Imperial Ground where Gloucestershire were playing Somerset at cricket, he said who he was and asked for "the score", they told him that "they were all out and the last one was a duck," so we called him Bill. Before we were born, my uncle told us that my parents were in iron and steel, sadly he meant that my mum ironed and my dad would steal. Fortunately, we boys lived in Knowle, that was handy, as our parents lived there too.
TIME TO PUT THE KETTLE ON.Identical twins have also been fascinating but everyone stopped to talk to my mum as she pushed us to the shops (we all had bruises between our shoulder blades). If we were lucky we were squashed into a double pushchair and rode in relative comfort. All children born in the late '40s may recall, or were told, that times were hard, there was still rationing into the early '50s. My parents found it particularly hard with 5 mouths to feed, of course clothes were a problem, no hand me downs for us boys. War time had made people scrimp and save, my mum was no different, most evenings she would be in the back room with the Singer knocking up some clothes for us boys. He did cabaret at the Red Lion and was surprisingly adept at needlework.
KETTLE'S BOILED, MAKE A BREW.Us three boys were inseparable and we all learnt to walk about the same time, dad told us, in later years, that we would often push mum to the shops to give her a rest. We started school just before our 5th birthday, over the road at Queenshill Road Infants, Bristol Evening Post photographers were awaiting our arrival as the three of us were rather unique. Our first teacher was Mr Knomer who was keen on maths and sports, he had a very strong Welsh accent, he left after our first year and we had a Miss Way for the second year. I learnt my tables from Miss Way, and I have never forgotten them. I can easily identify a gate leg table, a refectory table, a Queen Anne style etc.I recall Miss Way (Honor Way) saying that if we put our minds to it we could achieve anything if we had the determination, 100% effort and will power. I thought long and hard, as Miss Way went around the classroom asking us our ambititions. She reached me and said "Middle one, want do you want to be?" ~ I was ready with my answer "I want to be a 7 foot negro and play basketball around the world for Harlem Globetrotters". She turned a purple colour and screamed as she raced out of the room.
TEA and a few chocolate Hobnobs please.
It was weird in the third year, we had a Miss Knomer, she had a very strong Welsh accent, keen on maths and sports, especially rugby and cricket. She always said, in her deep voice, that if us three Palmers were Welsh we could, one day, be the front row in the international rugby team. Even now, when I smell pipe tobacco, I think of Miss Knomer and her hairy arms, I am convinced she was a close relation of Mr. Knomer. It wasn't mentioned much in those days of the early '50s but bullying reared its ugly head in that third year.[I hate phrases like "reared its ugly head", I usually avoid cliches like the plague.] Dinner money was "borrowed" from little girls, sweets were a target too, name calling of course and the occasional "friendly" fight. Over a few months the three of us became comparitively rich and with an uncle (Reg) owning the sweet shop in Melvin Square, it was always us who were first to complete the set of Chix bubble gum footballers. The bullying came to an abrupt end when the headmaster, Mr. Jenkins, found out about it. He called the three of us into his office one afternoon and demanded a 50% share of our profits or else he would inform our parents. There were other groups, gangs I suppose we could call ourselves, in the area. The "hardest" gang was made up of the three brothers Ned, Fred and Ted Edmunds, they had 4 cousins in Bedminster who were also regarded as hard and not to be crossed. To distinguish between the gangs, Ned, Fred and Ted were called the Knowle Edmunds.The fourth year at school only lasted a few weeks, the operations we had to endure at Bristol Children's Hospital are all well documented. It was really our parents' decision, moving during the summer holidays from freak show to freak show wasn't really the best way to live, so the decision was made along with advice from countless counsellors (I say countless, as I could only count to seventeen). So the first successful separation of conjoined triplets took place in the autumn of 1957. Headlines such as
"Trio go their own way now", "Boys go their separate ways" appeared in numerous newspapers.
"Steven stands on his own two feet" is one I kept from the now defunct, Bristol Evening World.
Me! Standing on my own two feet!! Mainly because, after the operations, I discovered that as I was a few inches shorter than Bill and Tony, I had, lazily, rarely walked anywhere at all, always depending on my "wingers". It was all new to us, single beds, my own trousers, going to the toilet alone. The council removed our triple toilet, now in a museum I reckon. We gradually got used to "being alone", but I always wondered what it would have been like having two sisters instead of brothers. Perhaps my shyness with girls...no...I find that too hard to talk about, even now.
ONLY 3 CHOC HOBNOBS LEFT.
The three of us left school as soon as we could after we reached our 15th birthday, I became an apprentice chimney sweep in the Barton Hill area of Bristol, very well done, I hear you say. Sadly, just after I qualified and had laid out no small sum on my own brushes, all the terraced houses in Bart Nil (as it was pronounced) were knocked down to be replaced by tower blocks with NO chimneys! I am still known as Sooty by quite a few old folk, so much so, that my mum wrote to Jimmy Savile and I met Harry Corbett on Jim'll Fix It. When Harry was arrested just after the live broadcast for putting his hand up the back of my shirt, I explained to the police that it was just meant to be a humorous gesture that back-fired. I still have the photo of him and me (autographed) when he said those immortal words "Don't squeak until you're squoken to".
ALL HOBNOBS GONE NOW..Mmmmm.Anthony got a job with Bristol City Council. It was early December 1962, Tony went off to take up his post - those were his very words. In fact, his job was taking up posts for the council, some times he had to put them back if he had taken up the wrong ones. They do look very similar, you must admit. I remember mum saying that it was quite an easy, low skilled job and if anyone made fun he shouldn't take offence. Actually, when he was promoted he was always taking a fence, even after mum had told him not to. Dad just told people that Tony was a postman ~ not far from the truth.KETTLE'S ON AGAIN. This is thirsty work.William, Bill to all of us, but never ever little Willy, couldn't get a job at first, he went back to secondary school in the February and took some UEI examinations. He got F grades (he, to this day, thinks F stands for fantastic) in Woodwork, Art, Spanish and Religious Studies. Mum didn't want him to leave Knowle but the offer of a job making/painting coffins in Barcelona seemed perfect for him, so he left home. He did, initially, make quite a few mistakes, his errors were put down to a misunderstanding of the metric system as he had a tape marked off in inches and centimetres were used in Spain. Some of his earlier coffins were easily adapted to become boats, better than wasting the wood I suppose.MUG OF TEA and a handful of malted milk biscuits.Mum and dad had received a few hundred pounds from newspapers, pram companies, nappy firms etc, just after we were born, a bit like modern day sponsorship. The cash was banked until our 16th birthdays, but there was a problem with my money. Bill and Tony's money was a Trust Fund, unfortunately due to a slight spelling error, mine was a Truss Fund. Bill and Tony decided that, with their money, they would travel to Hollywood, I think that they recalled their early days when our pictures regularly appeared in the Evening Post and The News of The World, they were sure that they could become film stars, so California was the place to go. Our aunt Doris had gone to school with Cary Grant, if he could make it, then so could Bill and Tony.
The first minor hiccup was the train trip from Temple Meads, reaching Holyhead and a desolate railway station, it then occured that perhaps this wasn't the right place. Tony was dyslexic, he should have realised when he went to a toga party dressed as a goat!
They eventually reached Hollywood and set about wandering around the film studios searching for that vital break. They believed that as they were identical then that would be a definite advantage. The fact that they had only ever appeared as two of the 3 Kings (with me) in the Queenshill Road Nativity Play and as Dumpy and Gropey in the Knowle West Pantomime Christmas 1952 didn't seem to put them off their ambition.
TO SWEEP OR NOT TO SWEEP.There was no future in chimney sweeping as far as I could see, it had its ups an downs, but I had to take another route in my life. I had numerous jobs in those early years after I left school. I tried my hand as a bus conductor ~ I still have the badge! HH 44737, I keep it in pride of place at the bottom of a drawer in the garage. The training for this job lasted just a few hours, the six of us, resplendent in Bristol Tramways uniforms sat on a double decker bus awaiting our instructions. The bus was driven by a learner who was being coached (coached!!! on a bus!) in the ways of how generations of bus drivers before and since have annoyed other road users in and around Bristol. Our trainer was a very old conductor nearing retirement age (I reckon he retired some 20 minutes after wishing us good-bye). We had timetables and ticket machines, it was ROLE PLAY! One of us was "the conductor", the other 5 were to act as passengers. Bob Jenkins was one of this group, a friend since 11 years old when I used to set him up for goals at secondary school. He will vouch for this tale! It started off in a civil, sensible manner. The conductor would ask our destination and we answered "Single to Old Market, please" "Certainly sir, that'll be 10 pence please" (After a lengthy consultation with a very ragged fares' book).
Now that was too easy, "degenerating into farce" may well have been the phrase used by our "tutor". We finished up asking for "Day return for me and my cub pack of 12 boys upstairs to Brislington" and "I am blind with a dog and 3 suitcases
(1 suitcase was free) and I want a monthly Rover ticket"(that wasn't the dog's name). We all qualified as proper conductors after the final test, can you say
"Move along the bus please" "Any more fares, please?" and
"There's plenty of room upstairs." ? Our "tutor" was last seen pulling out what hair he had left.
I was mainly on the number 4, Staple Hill (Stay Plill) to Knowle via Fishponds version of St. Trinians. The driver knew those girls would be queueing at 3.45 to go home, he would either be early or if they were there, he would drive straight past leaving them for the next bus. One Saturday night going through Old Market at 10.45 a group of Irishmen got on and filled the top deck. I went up for their fares, the first one said "Here's half a crown, that's for all of us", I didn't argue.
Bob's driver, on an early morning trip through Knowle, asked him to hop off at the newsagents in Melvin Square(my uncle Reg!) to buy a packet of Woodbines. Bob did as he was asked, unfortunatly, the driver had forgotten that he had asked him, a "helpful" passenger rang the bell to signal the all clear and Bob's bus drove off minus the conductor. Bob did, eventually, catch up the bus, two stops on.
TO FOLLOW ~ ONE DAY!
TO BAKE OR NOT TO BAKE. My life as a bus conductor lasted just a few months ~ I wasn't fulfilled, the hours were peculiar, a six day, 40 hour week (6hrs 40mins a day), but a lot of overtime available. I wasn't, yet, on the right route, nothing to do with buses, either. Besides, I couldn't fit in my football.
I started at Witts bakery, a local firm and it was mainly night work, preparing for early morning deliveries of fresh produce.
TO TEACH OR NOT TO TEACH. (TO LAKE OR NOT TO LAKE).My 3 years at Whackwell Teacher Training College... they must have been worth it, the career lasted nearly 37 years. My main subject was Maths and second subject was PE which covered the first two years at college. There were 12 strapping young men in the group, often seen prancing about the college in our track suits, hopefully, to impress the young ladies. I had done a lot of gymnastics at Monks Park so I didn't mind showing various vaults over the box as a demonstration. One tutor asked for us to do a vault and said we should go in alphabetical order, so I changed my name to Steve Aardvark, Bob Xylophone and Pete Zebra weren't so keen. I recall Pete being asked to do some sort of demonstration and he proceeded to move the mats ~ when asked why, he had to explain that the girls in the common room couldn't see him properly unless he moved the mats!!
Simon Newton-Smith (the names are coming back to me now) came into the gym from the changing rooms just as we were setting up the equipment, he approached the beams and attempted a gate vault only to discover that no one had remembered to put in the rods that kept the beams in place.
Not too much blood on the floor, fortunately
My first day in a classroom ~ "My name is MISTER Palmer and I would like to be known as such" - they called me Mr. Such after that intro!
I always had had a knack for numbers, especially mental arithmetic, probably the guidance given at Queenshill Road infants and a short spell (s-h-o-r-t short spell) at Upper (emphasise that word) Horfield Juniors.
