Clare House

After Michael and Irene were married, they remained at Clare House for a few months before moving into a home of their own. Biddy continued to be a tremendous support to Mum, helping wherever she could during what was still a very difficult period for our family.

Not long afterwards, another new face appeared at Clare House.

His name was Eddie.

He was introduced as the brother of one of my uncles, and at the time I had no idea how important he would become in our lives. Looking back now, I realise that Mum desperately needed someone beside her. Since Dad's death she had been trying to carry the burden of running Clare House while raising a young family and keeping the business afloat.

I was still too young to understand the pressures she faced.

Before long, Mum and Eddie were married.

For Phillip and me, it was simply another change in a childhood already full of unexpected changes. Michael, Lionel and David had their own lives to lead, and gradually Eddie became part of ours.

At first, we were strangers living under the same roof.

Like most relationships, however, familiarity slowly replaced awkwardness.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning I walked to the bakery on Winchelsea Road to collect fresh bread for Clare House. Even today I can still remember opening the bakery door and being greeted by the wonderful aroma of freshly baked loaves. Great mixers churned away in the background while the ovens produced endless rows of crusty bread.

The temptation was always too much.

By the time I reached home, one crusty roll had usually disappeared.

Those simple walks to the bakery became part of everyday life, and gradually Eddie and I settled into an easy routine together.

A Growing Family

Before long, our family began to grow once again.

First came Tony, then Carol, followed later by the twins, Steven and Paul. Clare House, already a busy guesthouse, became even livelier with the arrival of four young children.

There was never a dull moment.

Phillip and I were the older boys by then, and without really noticing it, we found ourselves helping more and more with family life. Looking after the younger children simply became part of our daily routine.

I particularly remember taking Tony and Phillip down to the seafront.

Tony would ride happily in his pushchair while Phillip walked alongside me. It was one of those ordinary family outings that suddenly turned into something far more frightening.

As we walked past the sea defenses, a crane was lifting heavy equipment nearby. Without warning, one of its large iron hooks swung out and struck Phillip on the side of the head.

Everything happened in an instant.

The workmen immediately rushed to help, and Phillip was taken straight to hospital.

Thankfully, after a thorough examination, he made a full recovery.

Even now, I can still picture the enormous swelling on the side of his head. It was one of those moments that reminded us how quickly an ordinary day could change.

As the years passed, each of the younger children developed their own unique personalities.

Tony needed extra care and support throughout his life, while Carol grew into a kind and thoughtful little girl who was always willing to help around the house.

The twins, Steven and Paul, brought twice the energy, twice the mischief, and twice the laughter. Keeping up with them was a challenge for everyone.

Looking back now, Clare House was far more than a guesthouse.

It was a home filled with children, guests, laughter, worries, celebrations, and the constant bustle of everyday life.

Although money was often tight, there was never a shortage of love.

Learning the Hospitality Trade

Clare House was more than our family home—it was a working guesthouse.

Guests came and went, meals had to be prepared, rooms cleaned, beds made, and endless cups of tea served throughout the day. At the time, I never imagined I was receiving an education no classroom could ever provide.

Mum remained the heart of the kitchen.

She was an excellent cook, producing wholesome meals for both our family and the guests who stayed with us. Everything seemed to come naturally to her.

Eddie, on the other hand, had spent most of his working life at sea and knew very little about cooking.

Whenever Mum was away or particularly busy, she began teaching me how to prepare simple meals. At first it was little things—peeling vegetables, making gravy, cooking breakfast, and preparing light lunches.

Without realizing it, I was beginning an apprenticeship that would influence the rest of my working life.

The kitchen slowly became a place where I felt comfortable.

There was satisfaction in preparing food well and seeing people enjoy what you had made. Mum never made a fuss about teaching me. She simply showed me how things should be done, and I learned by watching her.

Those lessons stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Years later, when I found myself working in hotels, restaurants, and eventually running businesses of my own, I often thought back to those early days in the kitchen at Clare House.

That was where it all began.

Life at home, however, was not without its difficulties.

As time passed, Eddie's fondness for alcohol became increasingly noticeable. He frequently asked me to walk to the off-license to buy bottles of gin for him.

At first I simply did as I was asked.

Gradually, though, I became uncomfortable with it.

I began finding reasons not to go.

My older brothers were aware that Eddie was drinking far too much and occasionally tried to persuade Mum that something needed to change.

Mum, however, had already endured the heartbreak of losing one husband.

Whether through loyalty, hope, or simply the determination to keep the family together, she refused to ask Eddie to leave.

It took many years before I truly understood how difficult Mum's position had been.

She wasn't simply making decisions for herself.

She was trying to provide stability for a large and growing family while keeping Clare House running.

It couldn't have been easy.

As children, we simply accepted life as it was and carried on.

That was what families did in those days.

Friendship, Music, and New Dreams

As my final year at school drew to a close, life slowly began to change once again.

One of the best decisions I made was exchanging Religious Education for music lessons taught by Mr Dickinson.

It was there that I met Sid King.

Sid became my closest friend and, in truth, my only real companion at school. Although we came from very different backgrounds, we seemed to get on from the very beginning. Friendships at that age seemed to happen naturally. You simply met someone, enjoyed each other's company, and before long you were inseparable.

Whenever we had the opportunity, we spent our spare time together.

Sometimes we went to the cinema. Other days we headed for the swimming pool or simply wandered around Dover, talking about our hopes for the future.

Like many young lads of our generation, we dreamed of adventure.

Australia captured our imagination.

The newspapers were full of stories about opportunities overseas, and before long Sid and I enrolled in the Big Brother Movement, a scheme that helped young British men begin new lives in Australia.

Everything suddenly became very real.

We attended interviews, completed medical examinations, and began imagining what life on the other side of the world might be like.

For two boys who had rarely travelled far from home, Australia sounded like another planet.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Sid changed his mind.

He decided not to go.

Without him, my own confidence disappeared.

I realised I wasn't ready to leave England on my own, and reluctantly I withdrew my application as well.

Only much later did I realise how a single decision can change the direction of an entire life.

At the time it felt like a disappointment.

Little did I know that another opportunity—one that would eventually take me even farther than Australia—was already waiting just around the corner.

My First Car

As my seventeenth birthday approached, I found myself becoming more and more independent.

One of the first things I bought with my savings was my very first car—a 1926 Austin Ruby.

To most people it probably looked like an old heap of metal, but to me it represented freedom.

Just across the road from Clare House, off Winchelsea Road, there was an old dirt track lined with lock-up garages. At weekends and during the school holidays it became a gathering place for local motoring enthusiasts. Men spent hours happily tinkering with engines, adjusting carburetors, changing spark plugs, and discussing the merits of different makes of cars.

Motoring was very different in those days.

Petrol was inexpensive, traffic was light, and almost everyone repaired their own vehicles. Lift the bonnet of my little Austin Ruby and there wasn't much to see. Compared with today's engines, it looked more like a sewing machine than a motor car.

I soon became friendly with several of the men working in the garages, and they kindly offered to teach me how to drive.

One afternoon, after they had all gone home for their evening meal, I decided it was time to practice on my own.

Everything went well until I attempted to reverse.

I selected reverse gear, pressed firmly on the accelerator...

...and promptly drove backwards up a steep bank.

Before I knew what was happening, the Austin Ruby rolled completely over.

Remarkably, it landed back on all four wheels.

I sat there for a few moments in complete disbelief.

Neither the car nor I appeared to have suffered any serious damage, although I suspect my pride was rather dented.

Needless to say, that was the last time I attempted to teach myself how to reverse!

A little while later I sold the Austin Ruby and bought something altogether more impressive—a 1934 Wolseley 10.

I was immensely proud of it.

I couldn't wait for David to return from one of his sea voyages so that I could show him my latest purchase.

That Wolseley remained with me for quite some time and eventually carried me away from Clare House towards the next stage of my life.

Looking back now, I can see that those years at Clare House quietly shaped everything that followed.

It was there that I learned responsibility.

It was there that I discovered hospitality.

It was there that I began earning my own money.

It was there that I learned to care for others before myself.

Most importantly, it was there that I grew from a boy into a young man.

I didn't realise it then, but another adventure was waiting just beyond the horizon.

The sea was calling.

Before long I would sign my first ship's articles, step aboard a cross-Channel ferry as a pantry boy, and begin the journey that would change the course of my life forever.