Brooklyn was a rental and this was not the way to go in order to increase your equity so one day us two
boys found ourselves on the way out to Lower Hutt where Dad had purchased a house on the edge of the city. Beyond us
stretched the open fields but even more important were the hills of the valley which were only just a walk up the road.
Epuni School were we were enrolled was a 10 minute
or
so walk from home. Shoes were not something we thought at all 'trendy' rather we departed from home like little rag a
muffins in bare feet to march off to school wet or fine summer or winter. Ready mades were not the order of the day either.
Mother dutifully sewed up the Khaki trousers that were the only materials that endured the hard bashing that these two
ruffians gave anything they wore.
The next move to Lower Hutt where Dad had purchased a house was to usher in a long sustained period of
happy boyhood which took us through the years of World War II. The harsh realities of that catastrophic period did not make
much impression on us. The war appeared more in the form of rationing but to Dad these were boons and boosts rather than
hindrances for many of his principles about curbing sugar, not eating too much meat were then part of the rubric rather than
imposed values from Papa. With a large kitchen garden all developed on organic principles we saw no real hardship in the
rationing system. Frequent drives organized under the Boy Scouts
to gather up recycled materials were another feature their real utility being of doubtful value as scrap usage but the moral
and public relations effects were no doubt as important as any actual materials gathered. The largest impact of those
happenings related to certain key items which we wanted. One of them being bicycles.
New ones were not available and second hand ones then fetched high prices. Another items were the needed
toys for Christmas and birthdays. Regrettable Stuart coming up behind was the one who lost out here. Tragically something
which had a lifetime overhang in his sense of being deprived or discriminated against.
Watching the soldiers embark on the troop ships leaving Wellington wharves; our beloved teacher Mr. Evans
arriving in his tartans never to finally return; and then one day being
dispatched with Dad to sit on the Gut Pipe down at
the river and fish with Dad having been given the sombre message from Mother that it was important to spend time with Dad.
Thankfully his job was declared Essential Service so he avoided the draft that caught up many others. Avoiding the need for
the route taken by Aunty Dorrie of disappearing away from her address to Australia at one stage and Greymouth and other
obscure locations at others. An early draft dodger who had no interest in packing munitions when she could sell
lingerie!
As I once shared with a group of missionary candidates our
boyhoods were
blissfully semi-pagan as Dad did not impose on us the strict regimes of some of our contemporaries in the Christian Fellowship.
Rather we were gently nurtured into an understanding of Faith which was
emphasized discernment rather than prohibition.
Forbidden fruit like movies, radios, novels and the like denounced as evil by many in the Fellowship was shared with us in
carefully rationed doses so that we were inoculated from the serious effects that undiscerned eating was said to bring to
those who partook. A foundation was then laid for a life of being able to assess and discern bringing great strength. Dad
was an early holistic convert so that health embraced much more then
eating and
foot. There was a cultural and intellectual aspect to it as well. common to youth today. Radio was around, the main news
channel being this media. Saturday picture shows did have updates on War movie reels but the every present instant news of
the modern TV screen was not a factor in our lives. Nor the endless cartoon shows and the like. The outdoors tended to be
our interest area. Once up and about we were out and around. A favorable climate furthered this interest as the worst thing
was to get wet rather than cold. Good rain gear was needed chiefly boots which were bought and then fondly plastered with
dubbin, sheep fat and other waterproofing media.
Overall these were very happy years untrammeled by the complications of life. For me the Boy Scouts
featured large during the High School period. Leadership training came through becoming a Patrol Leader and learning to
work with the other boys in the group but even more with the rival Patrol Leaders in the Troop. Weekends went into these
kinds of activities. To this day the bear skin in the basement harks back to the bachelor types that the Boy Scouts
attracted. Maire, his Boy Scout name, related to an indigenous NZ tree was a man of the outdoors. His bachelor residence
being a very modest small house filled with goat heads and the like smelling of skins from which I have no doubt gained my
interest in such things taxidermy the like. Radio was the media of that era and so building small receivers like Crystal
Sets or one diode radios was all the rage. The biggest hazard burning out precious radio tubes by hooking up the wrong
wires!
Church was a feature of our lives
as it had been in Brooklyn. We went downtown to Sunday School its most vivid memories being the red brick hall. The quiet
morning meetings full of reflective pauses were not the best scenes for active young boys. Dad bribed us into going by
offering to let us steer the car when he drove down but even these inducements have limited appeal. Sunday School during the
early years of being in Lower Hutt were an added chore as we walked down the 2 miles or so in order to reach Waterloo
School. There in some classrooms was held the Sunday School classes with Mr. Martell a well meaning martinet who took the
lead backed up by Dad. A somewhat uneasy partnership as their ideas for children were ok but beyond that not much real fellowship.
Other Churches had Chaplains amongst the troops. The Brethren group to which Dad belonged did not have
this formal arrangement many of them being unwilling to don military uniforms. They did have an evangelistic outreach called
Every Man's Hut, social centers to which the men could go in leisure time. These were supported by all the small groups of
Assemblies in the area with tea coffee and cookies on a roster basis. Full time workers were found who managed the operation
and gave rousing evangelistic sermons to the gathered men each evening.
When the war concluded one of these
huts was relocated to a place Nae Nae. Today it would be called a housing development. This was an initiative of the Labor
Government to provide subsidized housing for the underprivileged. A Church plant in the jargon of our day. Services were
begun on Sunday evenings along the lines of the Every Man's Hutt sitting round tables instead of formal pews in rows.
Following the service was a cup of tea and cookies. All innovative departures from the former methods. Led by an active man
Jim Finn. The service as more open with much more singing and worship times less formality so easier to cope with. There was
not so much challenge going along to this kind of service so our cooperation was not so difficult to secure. The outreach at
Nae Nae came from another Gospel Hall that of Moera. This made the break with the more conservative and less progressive
Waterloo Road easier. Due to his interest at Nae Nae Dad was able to make the transition without a real decisive break. In
reality the reasons for the change were much deeper but the method kept relationships in good shape.
The other important happening of those years was the arrival of Kathleen, a much later addition to the family. The two of
us Stuart and I were very close together just twenty months apart so not much contraception in those events. It has never
been discussed in the family as to the why of it but Kathleen did not arrive until 10 years later. All I remember was that
one day the two of us were bundled off stay with another friend for a week or two and then when we returned home there was
Kathleen. Our lives remained largely unchanged by this event Mother was the one who looked after her. The biggest happening
was an extension put on the house to add another bedroom so as to accommodate Kathleen and give her a place of her own.
In search of more secure employment Dad accepted a post in the Public Works Department in Wellington. A move
which was to keep him in what was known as the Public Service for his working life. Home in Belfast Harland and Wolf was a
very reputable company and a job in the shipyard sought after. However the Mechanical Engineering line this led you into was
of little value in New Zealand to where Dad had migrated in 1925. From being a pattern maker in the yard Dad was now a
Mechanical Draftsman in the PWD in Wellington. Many nights of diligent study took him on into acceptance as a Mechanical
Engineer later in his career.
Boyhood memories now become 
more vivid ones. Our first house in Wellington being in Brooklyn far up the hill and over the top to the south and cold
side. Dad was a stickler for good eating and other habits. In the interests of regularity we were escorted after the evening
meal down the stairs to the toilet in the basement. It was cold and miserable down there but as Dad was intent that we do our
'job' he would sit there and wait until it happened. Two little boys found to their delight that they then had a captive Dad
who had to listen to all the tales of the day before he was released from his chores. Eating was a serious business as were
necessities like eschewing white bread in favor of Procera some kind of brown cardboard which made up the inevitable banana
sandwiches. Other lucky kids had pies or fish chips but it had to be birthday or Christmas for us to achieve those luxuries.
Other memories of Brooklyn were the weekly supply of starched collars from the Chinese laundry; the trollies made up to board
and used roller bearings on which we would hare down the road with only limited braking power. To do the same today would
require all kinds of helmets and protective gear. A small 8 HP Morris car, 1938 model, was added to the family store of
value in those days. Too bad that the war was to intervene allowing only 1 gallon of petrol per month. It sure kept the
mileage down but for all that we had many happy outings in the little tourer. The car was given the same careful attention
that the boys had. Because it was started only once a week it was important to turn it over with the crank handle to ensure
that the oil was up in the cylinders before activating the electric starter. Similarly oil changes were done at home to allow
all the oil to drip out over night before putting in any new oil. No wonder the car went for a good price when it was finally
sold in 1947.
Brooklyn, Wellington to where we moved on arrival in the Capital city saw us in a house high up on the hill. The little
Morris 8 car made it up that steep hill with difficulty in low gear. Coming back home from the school was a real chore. Life
had its tough moments when we pleaded with Dad for 6 pence to buy a pie for school lunch quite different from the cardboard
style brown bread, Procera it was called picked up daily from the shop at the bottom of the hill. Not to mention fish and
chips other forbidden food enjoyed by the others in the school classes. The strict high nutrition routines had its challenges
for Dad as well. Included in the ideals was the concept of regular bowel habits. The challenge being that that the toilet lay
in the basement at the bottom of the outside stairs. For young Colin and Stuart this was an ideal time to get Dad captive and
share with him all the happenings of the day as he had to sit outside and wait until we had finished!
down to the local Library
and selecting good reading material. Belonging to a denomination or some would say sect that did not approve of reading
novels, listening to the radio, going to the cinema and or other related worldly activities this was a courageous departure
from the accepted norms. This is one of the things that I really thank God for in my Dad. He was not bound or controlled by
such shibboleths but thought things through for himself.. To our great eternal welfare and good we were shown how to discern
between the rot and rubbish and the useful material be they literature, radio programs or movies. All were strictly
controlled in Dad's inimical fashion. Pocket money was another important learning tool. Armed with the red bank safes issued
by the Post Office the 3 penny pieces went through the jaws never to come out unless you begged Dad for the key that
opened the box. A time of real travail but it certainly inculcated the savings habit in one of the boys! The penchant was
likely there in any case!