England - New Zealand - Australia
I have the almost impossible task to summarize the next 50 years of my life into the next section of this “opus”, especially as I now have to tell you of the happenings of not just me, but my wife, our two children and there ought to be some mention of our seven grandchildren, the three countries we lived in and many changes in our lifestyle.
We honeymooned for one week in Devon and Cornwall renting a cheap little Ford and returned to our basement flat in Royston Road, Richmond, Surrey. Joy was going to continue teaching and earning £12 per week, which was to be most welcome to augment my £10 per week I earned in the company formed by my father and his friend, also from Hungary. Our offices were in Piccadilly Circus, which sounds better than it was.
A few weeks after our wedding, something was missing from our life and Joy and I visited our Polish doctor. He heard our story and without further ado he triumphantly and loudly declared: “I know what’s wrong with you, you are pregnant, that’s wrong with you!” We tried to reassure him, that we don’t regard this a problem and he told us to book Joy into the Queen Charlotte hospital.
Nine months and ten days after our wedding our daughter was born at 7:30 pm. which meant that I missed out on the evening visiting time. So I had a drink and tried to bury my sorrow at having had a daughter. It took me just two shots of brandy before I was quite happy and accepted the fact that we shall have a daughter. Nothing like that ever happened in our family since my mother was born…
Next day, holding a bunch of flowers, I waited in the staircase of the hospital for the bell, when all the fathers were allowed to swarm upstairs to visit wives and babes. I rushed to see mine and there she was, a beautiful smiling wife, more beautiful than ever, but no baby. Eventually, I was told to see the sister, who wanted to talk to me.
It was in her room that I finally met my daughter. The sister explained to me that an ambulance will take the baby to another hospital for a check up and treatment, since she has talopes. Not knowing what that is, I asked and it turned out to be “club foot”. It certainly did not make me very happy although when I was shown her feet, my untrained eye could see nothing wrong.
By next day her little leg was in plaster with a metal splint. This was changed at periods for the next 18 months at considerable pain to little Jane, whose suffering was matched with our own anguish. Yet we were happy to know that the inventor of this method, Dr Dennis Brown, treated her and while we could not speak to this illustrious gentleman, it seemed that all is well, or at least that is what he suggested to the many medical students who looked on as our daughter stood on a chair and was being exhibited.
Of course, Joy has ceased to be contributing to the family finances since quite early in her pregnancy and being employed in a family concern, my income was less than satisfactory. Nevertheless, we managed and when a better flat came available in the same building of flats where my parents lived, we moved in. Not being furnished we had to buy furniture and we bought the cheapest, the least and at the lowest weekly hire purchase repayments. There were no credit cards those days, the only cards being ration cards, which weren’t cards, but books and required to buy food, clothing, etc. It was 1953, only 8 years after the end of the war and even if rationing was forgotten in Germany, this was not so in England. Oh well, serves them right for winning the war.
During the course of my business I visited Germany for a trade fair and while I was away Jane managed to get close to the electric fire and was severely burned on her face and neck. Poor Joy had to cope on her own.
It was sometime in January 1955 that Joy had an idea. She was sitting in the bathtub after a strenuous day with me sitting beside on a chair, when she explained her idea, according to which, if we are to visit her parents in New Zealand in the near future, we ought to start thinking of increasing our family. I was quite willing and all I asked if I should join her in the bath or wait until she gets out. We decided on the latter and on 1st November 1955 we were rewarded by a baby boy, we named Michael Steven Marshall Colman.
Unfortunately, his arrival caused Joy to have a cyst in her breast, which had to be operated. A small army of volunteer and paid helpers had to be engaged to look after the children with the result that the little fellow was overfed and had to be put on a slimming diet.
In October 1956 we boarded the MV Tamaroa in Liverpool for our trip to New Zealand. We paid £200 for our cabin below the waterline, while migrants paid just £10 and stayed on the promenade deck. We intended to stay until March 957 and then fly back via USA, where I was exporting grain moisture test equipment from my London company.
It was a lousy passage, via the Panama Canal and we were relieved to be landing in Wellington after storms, typhoons, a cook, who was knifed and our ship steaming in the wrong direction to save someone on another ship who committed suicide.
In Wellington the local relations greeted us and several more relations turned up at the railway station later that day, to say hello to Joy, and inspect me, the exotic foreigner (in 1957 all foreigners in NZ were) and the children she acquired during her travels.
We traveled with 28 pieces of luggage, which included 2 prams and since the train was to stop for just 1 minute at Pukekohe, we practiced with the guard on how we are going to manage unloading both the luggage and the children, only one of which could walk at that stage.
When the train stopped, we went into the routine. Joy pointed out her parents standing on the platform, the guard started to throw things onto the platform, Joy was holding on to the girl while carrying a case and I jumped down carrying our baby boy, rushed to my mother-in-law and according to plan, wanted to