Mitcham Common Fair Uncle Mick

A Memory of Mitcham.

My earliest memory of Mitcham was when the fair came to Mitcham Common. The noise, shouting, music and smells were so exciting to a nine year old.

The whole world seemed to be happy then...we had a new Queen on the throne, Elizabeth the second, and although our playgrounds were the bomb sites left over from the German bombing raids, we seemed to be filled with thoughts of the future and what it held for us.

My big sister reluctantly, took me to the fair with her but that was so mother would let her out of the house on a Sunday.

When we arrived, surprisingly, we met up with some lads, who were my sister's friends. They used to go to the 'Orchid Ballroom', Purley and if the famous Ted Heath and his band were playing, nothing would stop sister Maureen from going. She adored the singer Dickie Valentine - he was very handsome in a Latin way - then there was Denis Lotus and I think Lita Roza...

I didn't make it to the 'Orchid' until years later at the grand old age of sixteen. I was paying for my Babycham, when my little finger caught up with the barman's hand and as I snatched my hand away, my fingernail fell on the bar - it was false of course, and in those days, the adhesive wasn't very reliable - the barman looked as though he was about to be sick. I quickly picked up my nail and put it in my purse!

Anyway, I digress... back at the fair we had met up with Maureen's friends! One of them, known as 'Big Bill'for obvious reasons, paid for me to go on everything - that was to get rid of me I think, so he could flirt with Maureen; I won a painted chalk, Alsatian dog ornament and two goldfish who were immediately named Mitch and Chum. Unfortunately I dropped the bag and forever more, for the rest of his little life, Chum swam with his tail bent upwards.

Sundays were so different then; we would walk to Mitcham Road Cemetery and change the flowers and pull weeds on Nan and Grandad's grave, before walking to the common - no car in those days - as Dad quite liked to watch the Sunday football or take in the Americans playing baseball.

Years later, we visited people in the Tooting Bec area who were family. My uncle Mick Mitchell - Albert Charles Edward Mitchell - was staying with the family. I think he had a wife named Frances but she didn't say much. He was a retired professional golfer and apparently had travelled the world. He had the gift of the gab, mind you, but I wished I could have sat with him on my own, as he transported me and my imagination to this supposedly wonderful life.

He came to visit us one time; there he sat with a small tweed trilby, perched jauntily on the side of his head and a tweed overcoat, looking the very part of the Irish/Scot, he was so proud to be descended from.

"Who do you vote for?" he suddenly shot at me.
"La-labour," I stammered.
"Labour...what do you vote for them for? You're not Labour. You're a Conservative"
"I am...I am?"
"Bet you vote for them, because your Mother does!"m
Was I that transparent?

I cannot remember the date - maybe it was in the late sixties - Mother showed me a newspaper clipping. Uncle Mick, had died. The paper - which possibly was the local Mitcham and Tooting Bec edition - wrote very highly of him and spoke about his golfing career. He would have liked that. I just wish I had got to know him more...he was made up of so many tones...from light to the very dark...but he was a character, probably at his best holding court in the bar, with a whiskey in his hand and his tweed trilby still perched jauntily on his head. I have tried to find his family through the newspaper, as I would love to have a photo of him, to add to my family tree. Maybe someone reading this, might remember him.

We originated from Broad Green and Nan lived in Bensham Lane and I lived in Elmwood road; at present I live in Canada but I shall be coming back to the UK, because you know...we all do eventually.

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