Living in a Brunswick terrace 1940 – 1953 – Part 1

Part 1

By Kevin in Diamond Creek – the following reminiscences are not necessarily in chronological order.

In 1940 we moved to a terrace in Donald Street, North Brunswick.  It was a house from another time with a remnant gaslight fitting in one room, and at the end of the yard was a pull the chain toilet with a full width wooden seat. The brick toilet wall showed the shape of a bricked up half door that once gave pan access for the night soil collector in the 19th century, before sewerage.

Our terrace was one of 8 identical brick units joined together, wall to wall, with a continuous high pitched slate roof. A lane from Donald Street gave access to our back gates where we left our garbage bins for collection by a horse drawn 2 wheel dray. Apart from the lane there was a large open area the length of the terrace strip and about 50 ft. wide. A great off the street playing and parking area.

On the other side of the access lane was a brass foundry with two side by side metal smoke stacks forever producing thick dirty smoke that turned the western sunlight yellow. It was strange that such a factory should be in the middle of a residential area. But in those days who cared. Toxic was an unknown word.

Inside the property

The house was16 ft. wide. A side passage from the front door passed a lounge room, bedroom and bathroom. The passage ended in a full width dining room. On the left was a large walk in pantry with a small window and no electric light. It was my bedroom. The dining room was equipped with a wood stove with brick chimney.

Daylight came from a west side window that looked out to a small walkway that made a light well, making distance from our close neighbour, who had the same walk way with a high fence between us. The walk way ended at the bedroom window. From the back door to the bedroom window Mum made a garden of potted,shade loving plants turning a dreary area into a green gully.

The last room, next to the pantry, was a laundry/kitchenette. The left corner was a bricked in copper. Next to our copper were 2 concrete troughs used for soaking nappies and bathing babies. The end was a window looking into the yard’s length from which my enraged Dad could see the neighbour’s naughtycat scratching in his veggie patch. On the right side was a bench and gas stove with cupboards and drawers for kitchen utensils and last the back door.

The Useful Copper

The copper’s firebox was connected to the stove chimney and burnt small bits of wood to boil the Monday Washing. On Saturday it boiled the water for our weekly baths. There was no hot water service in this rented house so hot water was bucketed through the dining room to fill our tin bath.

During the week the copper fire box served as a mini incinerator and was stuffed with burnable rubbish to kick off the kindling. On more than one occasion as the flames took hold of the rubbish mice would dash from from the fire box escaping with singed whiskers and burning fur only to be bonged by Mum with the ash shovel and then cremated.

A copper like this was a handy item being used as washing machine, hot water service, and, in the case of work mate George a saucepan. George who lived in Preston, told me his live in mother in law had been a cook so she did all the meals for his large family. When ma in law had to go away for a week she filled up their copper with a tasty bubbling stew to keep the family in hot meals during her absence.

 Bed Bugs

In the 1930’s and ’40’s bed bugs flourished in bedrooms. The blood thirsty little stinkers came out at night, attracted by human body heat, for a quick take away feed of blood. Swollen with their victim’s blood they staggered back to nook and cranny hide outs to digest their meal.

Once, as a toddler, I was a take away outlet for bugs and they left my body covered in red blotches from their bites. I can still remember their nasty smell.

Dad checked out the terrace bedroom, before their bed arrived, with his anti bug routine. First, to trick them from their hide outs Dad put a candle stick holder, with lighted candle, on a spread newspaper on the bedroom floor. Early next morning the newspaper was crawling with frustrated hungry bugs attracted by the de facto heat source. They were quickly packaged, fish and chip style, and incinerated.

The next job was to seal and fumigate the bed room by lighting a small device that produced a toxic gas. After this Dad thought he’d won. But, a short time after the double bed was in use bug eggs hidden in the bed hatched and the hungry chicks came looking for blood. Crevices in the timber and the woven wire where it joined the frame were the hideouts. Dad attacked their bases with a toxic liquid and it was the final solution.

Fresh Air Living

As my three sisters came along and grew. I moved from my pantry bedroom to a bed on the front verandah with a canvas blind to shield me from the elements. The divisional verandah brick walls sheltered me at each end but I could say “Good morning” to visitors knocking on our front door. Many homes in Brunswick had verandah bedrooms as their families expanded. I liked sleeping on the verandah even on the coldest nights. Hot water bottles, made from rubber, were a no no during wartime’s rubber shortage. If Mum was up late ironing, on cold nights, she wrapped the electric iron in a towel to warm my tootsies. Even the glass lemonade bottles of the day, filled with hot water, kept the chilblains away. Our street was an avenue of trees and on a windy night the sound of the trees and my flapping blind gave an outdoor feeling that I was bush camping.

Night Life in Donald Street

From my bed I could see our street light which attracted hordes of night flying insects and provided bumper meals for our local small bats. The little night flyers were residents of my school, Saint Margaret Mary’s primary and hung out in an old rolled up canvas blind on the first floor open balcony. It was bumped one day during a clean up and the sleepy night shift mob were suddenly dumped into bright sunlight. It was chaos, girls screaming and older lads yelling ‘Vampires”, “Vampires!’ The flock whirled about in terror and sought refuge in the gloomy stairwell. Tom cats also came out at night prowling our street crying out for girl friends. They often kept me awake. Their amorous howling sounded like babies crying. Mum hated them.

 

Because of the wartime petrol shortage cars were not common in Donald street but every week night between 10 and 10.15 pm, the man in the big double fronted house opposite drove off to work. Cold or wet he always wore a singlet. His trouble and strife saw him off with a kiss and his crib. His car was a well loved A model Ford rag top single seater with spoke wheels. These Fords had a hefty 4 cylinder engine that had a pleasant distinctive note. They were the last of Fords 4 cylinder models and were very popular. 32,387 A models were built in Australia between 1928 and 1932.

Musical Beds

With Kevin on the verandah sisters Pat and Marlene moved into the pantry bedroom to sleep on double decker beds. When youngest sister Carole was bed size she moved into the pantry bedroom with Marlene. Eldest sister, Pat, was then given a folding arm chair bed called a “New Yorker’ and the lounge room became her bedroom. Sister Pat tells me she still remembers that I often tried to fold her up in her “New Yorker” but I can’ t remember doing such a terrible thing.

 

The Front room – Kevin’s den

I spent many hours in the lounge room because our cabinet radio, an “Essenay” lured me there to listen to radio serials and the ABC’s Argonauts childrens program. I listened to lots of music so when I bought my radiogram in the 1950’s I already had a list of records I wanted. The lounge was 3 rooms from the dining room noise centre making it a quiet reading room as I was a comic fan and bookworm. I read every book in the school library which was no big deal as the library was a wardrobe sized cupboard. Many of these books were from another age with thick pages edged with gold and a tissue protecting illustrations and publishing dates from the 1880’s to the 1890’s.

When my lounge den was not available because of visitors or Dad listening to the races I had a back up haven in the street tree in front of our terrace. Bumps on the trunk gave me easy access to the branches where I could settle down in seclusion to nibble and read unseen from the street. My nibbles were often Mum’s cup cakes or rasberry coconut slice. The lounge room had a small fire place with a mantle piece surround and a small metal grate. Dad explained that small grates like these were not meant for wood but for coke. Coke is a very hot smokeless fuel. In the old days when black coal was cooked at a gasworks to extract gas for domestic use the residue from the process was coke. It looked like black honey comb.

Coke fires were started with wood then topped up with coke. The coke was kept in a bucket and drenched with water. Strangely this improved combustion. A grate filled with coke glowed red and hot for hours. Natural gas conked out the domestic coke industry in Victoria but Japan can’t make cars without coke, so, Queensland exports coking coal to Japan to use in blast furnaces to make steel to make cars. In our terrace days Dawsons foundry in Dawson Street, Brunswick operated a small blast furnace using coke as the heating medium. The foundry is long gone, replaced by a park opposite the Brunswick swimming pool.

Local Private Libraries

Dad was a reader like me and was a member of two private libraries. These were small shops and stocked romance, science fiction, mystery and western books. Some publishers produced special editions just for these libraries. A small fee made you a member and it cost one penny per book and three pennies for current and new releases. They were the fore runners of the video shops of today.

Retired people found a library a pleasant way to earn an extra quid and you read all the books while you worked. One library was in Sydney Road just north of Donald street and another one was in Moreland road around the corner from Sydney road. I ended up borrowing, reading and returning Dad ‘ s books. I had a thorough grounding in the Foreign Legion’s adventures in Africa. I also became a fan of Edgar Rice Burroughs and his ape man and the Edgar Wallace thrillers.

Stranger in the Night

One night a strange happening took place. Well after midnight there was a knock at the front door. Dad hopped out of bed and opened the door to a boozed up Aussie soldier. He wanted to come in. He had our name and address but he was a stranger. Dad was a former boxer at the Fitzroy stadium and a part time bouncer at some dance -venues. The soldier was very insistant and kept trying to push past and come in. An irritable Dad gave a warning , then an upper cut. Aussie rose in the air and flew backwards landing in Mum’s garden.

The fascinating thing was Aussie flew over the empty milk bottles on the verandah lip and didn’t knock them over! Dad was amazed. Helped from the garden a punch drunk Aussie was frog marched to the street. Dad went back to bed nursing a sore hand. I was fast asleep in my verandah bed and heard nothing.

In the morning when Dad was collecting the milk he saw a pair of army trousers in the garden and an army shirt in the street. “Poor bugger” Dad said. “How did he get back to camp in his underpants?”. “Snow dropped in back lanes.” Mum suggested. The army gear was Dad’s size and he wore it for years.

Entertainment before TV

The small walk through dining room was our central room and contained all the comfort gear necessary for cosy family entertaining before the days of TV. In cold weather the wood stove kept us warm and supplied constant hot water for Dad’s tea pot and glowing heat for toast. The wall cupboard contained cups, plates and cutlery plus supper tucker, home made scones, biscuits, rasberry and coconut slice, sugar and tea, bread with butter and milk in the ice chest. All handy to the table. Visitors often dropped in on weekends and evenings to gather around the table for a cuppa, nibbles and a gossip.

The Radio

Bakalite mantle valve radios in all shapes and colours had been around since the 1920’s and continued being made until the 1950’s. Mum’s 1940 model, of brown bakalite, sat on the mantle over the wood stove in the dining room. Our big cabinet radio in the front room was not used as much being 3 rooms away. The mantle radio was left on all day as it was audible in Mum’s work areas. In those terrace days radio stations played goodnight songs, reminded listeners to put out the milk bottles and shut down at 11.00 pm. The sole radio station, 3AK, then took over the night shift hours.

Starting the day with the radio, & getting to work on time When the early morning announcers came on they gave time calls every few minute to keep the early risers on the go. Every hour, on the hour, the Canberra Observatory broadcast time pips to all stations for listeners to adjust their clocks.

The Cost of radio

Radios were a wonderful entertainment producing programs for every taste and age but it was not free. To have a radio meant purchasing a licence at the Post Office and renewing it every 12 months. The Federal Government used the dough to run the ABC radio station.

Radio programs

The ABC broadcast school programs during school hours and at my school, St. Margaret Marys, we heard them on a battery radio as the class rooms were not wired. Our dining room tuned in to serials, plays news reports, quiz shows, amateur performances, classical and hit parade music, nature shows and more. During the terrace days we often had problems with our struggling power supply and on cold, frosty winter mornings radio programs would be interruptd by urgent requests to turn off appliances immediately to prevent blackouts. It was instant communication to the population.

Radio dramas come to life

Behind the scenes at radio stations presenters who never said a word brought drama alive by providing sound effects for live shows from an array of wacky bits and pieces.

Games

The dining room table, apart from meal times, was the games centre for Chinese Checkers, Chess, Draughts, Monopoly, Ludo, Snakes & Ladders and cards. Dad was a billiard fan and we played the game on the table. A smooth rug was stretched and smoothed over the table and wire pockets were set up with strong rubber bands. The starting line was chalked in and click went the balls.

The Table for everything

As well as meals and games the table was a stand for washing babies,a work bench for Mum’s electric sewing machine and once for a medical operation.

One day Mum told me she was getting her top teeth out. The dentist and anaesthiest were coming to our terrace to perform the procedure with Mum lying on the dining room table! On the day Dad and I were shunted off somewhere and came back to ghastly blood stained linen in the dining room and a gummy mummy. But an ok mummy.

As a school boy at St.Margaret Mary’s, from 1940 – 46, I needed pocket money so during this period I made a bob or two from various activities.

Biking to the Shops

I was mobile, using my bike to do messages for Mum, who was busy looking after my 3 younger sisters. I often did messages for the lady next door Who was great, giving me thripence (3 cents) a job. Once I looked after her cat, “Snowball” when they holidayed and it earned me several shillings. This was an important event for me as it triggered a life time interest in ships.

Hooked on Ships

I used some of the money to buy a cut out book on the “Santa Maria”, Columbus’s ship. You cut out the segments and stuck them together to make a “Santa” model. I was in grade 5 and became so interested in ships that I started researching the history of sail and steam ships. I am still a nautical buff.

Ship Snapping

Since I started photography in 1948 I’ve taken stacks of ship photos and many are on file in the Kevin Patterson Collection in the State Library. And it all started with a cat!

Papers on the trams

I wanted to be a Herald boy but my parents said “No way.” Back in the 1940’s herald boys sold the evening paper, “The Herald” on the home bound Sydney Road trams at Brunswick Road, Victoria ‘,Street and Moreland Road. These were traffic light stops with lots of passengers getting off and delaying departure long enough for a paper boy to hop on board and sell to the remaining passengers. As the tram started they would jump off and dash to the footpath. Because of quick sales some of the blokes would say “Keep the change” so they could jump off. This was a hazardous job dodging traffic and Kevin was not going to do it. It was a work safe nightmare and was finally stopped.

Beer and Plonk bottles

So it was back to the lanes and parks to gather beer bottles and build up a collection for the Bottlo Man. You could hear him coming on his horse and cart yelling “Bottlo, bottlo, all your old bottles, 8 pence a dozen for beer bottles.” It was less for plonk bottles.

Selling Rags

Mum was a dress maker and made clothes for my 3 sisters and for paying customers. All material off cuts were kept and bagged for me. I took the rags to the Flock Mill in Stewart Street where they were munched up to make stuffing material. The rags were weighed and paid good cash because they were clean rags.

The stuffing was used in a variety of jobs. For instance, many vans were sold as a motor on a chassis and body builders constructed the cabin and body to order. The roof was made of wooden slats which were packed with flock to form a base for the roof material which was stretched tightly over the padding and painted for waterproofing.

 Selling Yesterdays papers

I also gathered up old newspapers which I sold to the local green grocer and the fish and chip shop for wrapping paper. I must correct an urban myth here. So often I have read and heard people talking of the old days of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper as though they yummies were wrapped direct to the newspapers. Wrong. They always wrapped them in clean white paper, then the newspaper.

Learning from comics

Bottles, rags, newspapers and messages provided me with cash and enabled me to buy comics. I was always a comic fan.The good Sisters at school frowned on comics but studies have shown comics to be a good aid to learn and improve reading. I learnt a lot from comics and always kept them.

Comic Dealing

There was a comic shop in Lygon street run by battlers who lived at the rear and their kids ran the business. You could swap comics for a small fee, buy second hand ones or sell your own. As my comic stacks grew I culled and sold some. I was learning management skills juggling all these projects and building up my mini bank account.

Seeking more funds

Sometimes I had problems with a lack of stock to sell and by the time I was in grade 8 I needed a more regular cash flow. I can’t remember how I found out but there was a part time job available at the Peerless Doll factory. The factory was a shop in Sydney Road, east side, a few shops south of Albion Street.

The Doll Factory

The company made baby “Wetem Dolls”. They were packaged with doll, nappy and feeding bottle. Filled with water the bottle’s teat was placed in a small metal ferrule in the doll’s mouth that was connected internally by a rubber tube to another ferrule between the doll’s legs. After feeding the darlings wet their nappies. They were a little mother’s delight.

The job hours were 7.00 pm to 11.00 pm on a Friday night. The pay was 11 shillings, a great addition to my cash flow.

World Time Factory rules

World War two was still going when I was in school and the Manpower Dept. regulated and directed the work force to essential strategic jobs. Workers could not be sacked or resign without the Dept’s approval.

Industries were classified essential or non essential. Doll making was not essential and had been banned until 1944. After this time if doll makers could prove thier feedstock did not include war effort materials they were granted a numbered W.O.1. Work permit. The number had to be on a box, tag, label or on the back of the doll’s head.

The work force was the next hurdle. Workers could be women, men not required for essential industries or services or returned servicemen with medical discharges.

To comply with the material rules Peerless Dolls were made from a sawdust compostion mixture. There were other Australian doll companies making composition dolls and their various mixtures were hand made recipes. A Stawell company also made “Wetem” dolls.

Knocking off an Aussie Industry

After World War 2 the new plastics knocked off the composition dolls and in 1956 the Liberal Government lifted trade sanctions and loads of imported cheap dolls flooded the market knocking off the Australian doll industry. I don’t know when Peerless shut down but they were still going in 1949 because a mate of mine worked there in 1949 for two weeks full time instead of having a holiday. The monotony of endless buffing nearly sent him bonkers!

But back to Kevin in the Peerless Doll Company.

Making Doll Parts

Peerless doll parts were made in compression moulds from the sawdust mixture. The heads and bodies were hollow shells made in 2 halves and glued together. The limbs were solid with metal hooks embedded in their joint ends. The hooks engaged a rubber band in the body which made the limbs articulate.

Working with limbs and bodies

My job was to keep all joins on the mouldings, arms, legs, bodies and heads smooth, round and without flat spots. All this artistic work was called buffing and carried out using a spinning buffing pad.

The Buffing Set Up

The pad was made of circles of cloth sewn together in a circle about 10 inches in diameter. A centre hole in the pad fitted on the driving shaft. The edge of the pad was run through liquid glue and then through abrasive dust. After drying the pad was ready for buffing. The buffing team was responsible for their pads and you always checked to make sure there were enough pads on standby for the shift. I sat in front of a horizontal spindle with a tapered threaded tip. With the spindle spinning, via a guarded belt, you carefully fitted the pad to the tapered spindle with your right hand after slowing the spindle with your left hand and bingo – you let go of both hands and the pad screwed itself on.

The Work Station

Sitting at my work station I was in front of a flexible buff and a metal ducting that sucked all the dust to a big bin out the back. The most important thing I had to do first was to put on safety glasses.

Picking up a body I would buff away all signs of the joins. Heads were a bit of a worry with ears on the join. If you buffed off the kid’s ears they went into the reject bin and so did the operator if there were too many rejects. Legs and arms were awkward because of the joint hooks.

Buffing with an old buffer

There were 3 of us working in a row. Old Jock was on my left. He was a grey haired old timer and a bit of a stirrer. I liked giving him back a bit or curry by deliberately letting go of a leg or arm which rattled through the metal suction duct like a machine gun going off. Hearing his swear words via a Scotty accent was so funny.

The Girls Upstairs

All buffed body parts were taken upstairs where young, nubile girls dipped them in pink lacquer. One girl was a cosmetic expert specialising in painting eyes and lips. Their room was a shocker with life like baby parts strung up on drying lines.

The Doll Surgeon

When dry the parts would go to the operating room where a skilled doll surgeon would fit internal plumbing and perform a keyhole miracle with a hooked instrument and rubber band ligament giving the new born moving limbs and a working bladder.

The girls only worked day shift and I wonder how many suffered from the strong fumes in their small upstairs work rooms.

After the Doll Factory and into the Big Smoke

After grade 8 I left school and the doll factory and started a year’s daytime course during 1947 at Everetts Business College in the city. Later, in my first job, in a city advertising agency,I returned to Everetts to do a night time advertising course.

The business college building is still on the corner of Lonsdale and Elizabeth streets. It is a delightfull 1930’s Art Deco building called Mitchell House because it was built by Thos. Mitchell & Son, a West Brunswick brush manufacturer. There is a small balcony on the Elizabeth frontage featuring a decoration with the name “Victor”. It was a top of the range mop made by Mitchells.

Mitchells were a client of our agency and I often visited their Lonsdale street factory. Only once I treked out to the Brunswick works but with a senior’s moment I can’t remember the exact location.

Peerless Jobs

It is a funny coincidence that my second Brunswick job was with Hiltons`’Peerless Silk Mill, off Union street, South Brunswick.

Saturday Arvo at the movie theartre

During my school days Saturday arvo was matinee day at the Padua theatre in Sydney Road. We watched serials with the good guys last minute escapes each episode. Hopalong Cassidy with his spotless outfit never dusty from the trail. The hilarious antics of Abbot & Costello and the scene stealing Shirley Temple always winning over the grouchy character. These were the movies that kept us rapt. Until…

Film Breaks

When film breaks plunged us into darknes tantrums took over. Screaming, yelling, foot stamping and the throwing of Jaffas,Koolmints, peanuts and packaging was the .normal chaos. That magic beam of light hitting the screen again caused instant silence.

Live Shows

From time to time live shows were extra entertainment. Singers, musicians and magicians performed on stage. Sometimes there were give aways. When the Shirley Temple epic, “The Bluebird of Happiness” was on, flat cardboard blue birds were handed out. With wings outspread the bird would balance on your finger because of a small lead weight in the bird’s head.

Watch the Dicki Bird

One afternoon Padua’s manager announced that a photo would be taken from the stage of all of us. After interval a camera and tripod was set up on stage. A row of magnesium lights to brighten up the whole theatre interior were also set up. Boy, what a flash it made. Next week we all received a photo and I could pick out myself. I kept the photo for years but it is now lost.

Greedy boy

One hot Saturday I bought a large bottle of my favourite American creamy soda and knocked off the whole bottle during the movie. After it ended I to just made it to the loo where my plumbing exploded! I never did that again.

Copped at the Cop Shop

I usually jogged to the Padua from Donald street but one day a kid told me he rode his bike to the Pad and left it at the Brunswick police station next to the Pad. The station was weal back from Sydney road so a tea leaf would have to be pretty game to nick a bike from the cop shop. It was so handy and I left my bike there for a few weeks. But, there is always a but. One day when I grabbed my bike I heard a thunderous voice say, “What do you think you’re doing?” The voice came from a policeman wearing a shiny black helmut. He was at least 8 feet tall with hands like a bunch of bananas. I never left my bike again.

Dad meets an old mate from his boxing days

One day about 1949 Dad and I were walking down Lygon street when we heard someone yell, “Hey, Gordon!” Dad stopped and a cyclist hopped off his bike and came over. “I’II be buggered, it’s Harry Ivory” Dad said, “one of the trainers from the Fitzroy stadium in the Depression days. These were the hungry days when Dad and his brother were belting the daylights out of each other in the ring, under false names to earn a quid. They always put on a good fight in the hope of a coin “shower” from the satisfied fans. Dad and Harry soon caught up about the old days. It wasn’t gossiping. This was blokes catching up about old mates and that sort of stuff. Harry explained he was running a night gym further down Lygon street and invited us to come down one night and suss it out.

Harry’s gym, pickled onions and sweat

Harry’s Lygon street gym was on the first floor of a veteran brick building, above a pickled onion factory, was a typical blokes boxing gym of the day. Sweating figures snorted, to keep nasal passages clear, as they shadow boxed, whacked heavy punching bags, skipped and did various exercises. Light globes, dangling from the aging rafters, swayed from these thumping activities on the creaking heritage wooden floor.

A Smell to remember

There’s no modesty in a bloke’s gym. The gym smell was topped off by the pong of vinigar and onions from the pickling works downstairs which could be seen through gaps in the floor boards.

Three minute rounds

Matched partners sparred under Harry’s watchful eye. We all had our turn in the ring. Sometimes those 3 rounds seemed endless.

I coulda been a contender

“Your Dad has trained you well Kev,”Harry said one night,”with more training you could kick off a career at the West Melbourne Stadium. Work your way up to the 12 rounder division and you’re on the way.Talk it over with Dad.” We did and Dad said if I was to continue working in an office black eyes, a broken nose or cauliflower ears would not be a good look. So I just continued as a weekly sparrer

Dropping my guard

One night during my sparring session I dropped my guard and copped a straight left on my nose. It hurt a lot and big boys do cry. Believe me. When I came home Dad said, “Dropped your guard?” He checked my nose “Not broken. Next time it might.” It was my last night at the gym.Dad spoke to Harry and he agreed. I retired from boxing, but, I coulda been a contender.

After the Gym

I never met Harry again. The years rolled on and I married a lovely girl from Fawkner and we moved to Diamond Creek and we had 2 beautiful girls and my parents moved to Williamstown, a long way from Brunswick. After 48 long years in 1997 My Mother rang me and asked “Remember Harry Ivory?”

Harry the born again trainer

In his later years Harry became a local celebrity and a clipping from the Herald Sun tells it all. (A water baby from way back by Michael Ryan, Herald Sun February 9, 1997) Harry is beleived to be the first person in Australia to conduct water aerobics and he has been running classes at the Brunswick Baths since 1972.

Please visit Living in a Living in a Brunswick Terrace 1940 – 1953 Part 2