This is a tough one. For the last four years, I’ve never failed to upload any of Harry’s letters on time. I’ve managed to do enough research to put his experiences into a sensible context. Now, I’m finding it easy to put off writing the last two entries onto the blog. Maybe there’s an element of not wanting to end this wonderful journey.
Willie is still alive. It’s not simple to connect my father, aged 94, with the small boy who was so important to Harry. I’ll try. I’m sure that I’ll write and re-write but, clearly it has to be done.
William Lamin was born on March 23rd 1916. He was the second son of Ethel and Harry. Arthur, the first born, was born two years earlier and had died in infancy. I’m quite sure that Willie (I don’t even know what to call him “Willie”, “Dad or, as he’s been generally known for all my lifetime, “Bill”) knew nothing of Arthur’s existence. I stumbled across a christening card from Ilkeston Parish Church
Willie (lets stick with that for the moment ) must have been precious to the couple. It must have been desperately difficult for Harry to leave his 9 month old baby son when conscripted in late December 1916.
For three years, Willie only saw his father for one leave in September 1918. As far as I can work out, he was brought up by Ethel with the help of Harry’s sister Sarah Anne (Annie). Annie had a son who was old enough to join up and fight but, at this time, no husband. George, her son, had never lived with Annie – he was conscripted from Manchester
An important element in Willie’s life would be little Connie. She was six years older and suffered from cerebral palsy and so couldn’t walk. I don’t know how well she could talk, but Willie and Connie are reported as “good friends”. In 1918, Connie was sent away to boarding school in I can’t pretend to know more. He spent some of his time at the relatively “posh” Whitworth Road, Mill Street
The crucial first three years of Willie’s development were without his father.
Friday morning, January 9th 1920,Willie got his father back. I can imagine the scene as he walked in at 9am, wearing his khaki greatcoat, and greeted Ethel and young Willie. I can do nothing but weep at the image. Willie, aged 3 years 9 months would have to get used to this stranger. I’d guess he’d hide behind Ethel as this unfamiliar man walked into the house. You can make up the picture yourself. To help you, you can see the house on the BBC video. Click
I think that is enough for now. I’ll publish this first instalment and then I’ll just have to continue with the next phase of Willie's life.
