Born 1925, 34 Green Street, Forest Gate. Lived behind the radio shop where his mum and dad worked and left his grandma with most of the childcare. Middle child, two sisters. Very bright, not socialable, bullied at school, locked in a cupboard by other kids.
Finished school after outbreak of WWII. Ceiling of bedroom fell on him. Not hurt but traumatised. Evacuated at some stage. First job at Plesseys, second at Ordinance Survey and last at GLC as cartographic surveyor. Very clever, too clever for his jobs, but no interpersonal skills to progress. One of my earliest memories is laying in bed hearing him crying because he didn't get promotion.
He couldn't relate to his children - mind on higher and more important things. No affection, little play or engagement of any sort. Strict discipline.
Later in life he/we realised he was probably Aspergers. He read Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night and said 'that's me!'.
Mum wore the trousers in our house. She had severe mental health problems mostly controlled by drugs but volatile and irrational much of the time. EST before I was born and in and out of hospital through my childhood. They married late for their generation - early 30s. Dad was devoted and at her beck and call. They rarely argued as he co-opted always. Perhaps he was too scared of her having a relapse to stand up to her. On the other hand he was difficult - like a third child she used to say! Unable to make life decisions - 'darling what clothes do I wear?' was the frequent call at breakfast time.
He had good manners, but stuttered, nervous, shy, scared. I had the idea he was sad as he had never reached his potential. Both his sisters went to University and he never got a degree. Mum said he was very jealous of them.
Loved the garden - not the back breaking work - but pottering and knew all the latin names to the plants. Loved maths - remember him using formula to work out the number of bricks in a circular design outside his window at the Phylis Tuckwell Hospice as he was dying.
Shortly before his death in 2010 I told him about a photography exhibition I was having at Kings College London. He told me how he had done a year of a Physics degree at Kings College before having a breakdown and giving up during the War. He had never told me this before. I don't think the family knew. He must have been ashamed because he didn't finish. We talked about depression and how these days my students are able to interrupt, hopefully get better and come back to finish their studies. He explained how mental health issues were barely recognised in civilians during that era as all the efforts were going on the war and the soldiers coming back traumatised. Sadly I think this disappointment affected him his whole life.
My sadness is that I never really got to know him properly and that he never stood up to my mum when she treated him and the family badly. I feel a bit cross that he never stepped up and that he seemed a rather weak man to others. On the other hand, and in contradiction, I see him as strong because he put up with my mum all those years and even looked after her in his final years. I understand he had divided loyalties at best or was even unaware of the nuances of family relationships because of suspected Aspergers.
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