The above photo was taken in the playground of St Mary's, 1954

(L-R) : Hugh Best, ——, Johnny Meades, Vincent Celano, Peter Cunningham and Anthony Littler

Other memories :
Playing on the grass just outside the convent at the Green, whilst mum chatted to other mothers at the Mothers Union meetings.

Dorina Rossi's dad supplying ice-cream for events like the summer bazaar.

Patrick Hillier being told off most severely by Miss Libra when he called a potato a `spud.` She nearly had a fit!

Mrs Moody asking why, when I served Mass on Sunday mid-morning, I never went to communion. I was proud to say it was because it was the second mass I had served that day, and you could only go once per day. She looked pleased at the answer! (Mrs Moody's son was Fr Frank Moody, who was Superior at The Priory at about this time).

Father Jones beating all records for money raised when he `hired` Heston C of E school, a few hundred yards down the road, for the summer bazaar. He rushed around getting things organised and wore jeans, something I hadn't seen a priest do before.

Serving mass once for Father Prentice, who seemed very old and did things differently.

Also . . . .

•Going on holiday to the Isle of White only to meet Richard and Anthony Sainsbury again.

•Mrs Merriman in the porch selling rosary beads, missals etc

•Hiding from Mum in the laurel bushes that grew in front of the church.

•How, when you went into the church house to the left of the church, it was dark and the floor was very uneven and creaked.

•One priest whose name escapes me had a massive Meccano set which he showed me with pride.

Other Parishioners of the time that come to mind are: The Tollmans, O'Briens, Mr and Mrs. Giles and Brenda, their daughter, Mr and Mrs. Ellis with Gillian and Adrien, Mrs. Sainsbury, Mr and Mrs. Davis and Erica and Robert.

Vincent Celano, in the parish of Heston from 1948 to 1966, now in Ware, Herts

Simone Burrows writes 30th March 2010:

"My mother and I have been enjoying your writing about Heston. Her name is Elizabeth Symes - she went to St Mary's too. She was in Mrs Woods' class and the Rossi boy used to sit next to her in class. [You may recall that she had] a younger sister Pauline and a twin brother John. She remembers the soft scoop ice cream from the Rossi's well.

She has been trying to track Anne Jasman for years."

Click here if you would like to contact anyone from those days.

Some Personalities Remembered
by Andrew Rampling

My first contact with the White Fathers was Father Tye's first baptism as Parish Priest. He often used to call round to our house on his ancient bicycle. My father was a keen cyclist and he was always repairing "the bike" — which I think that he must have completely re-built over time.

Father Prentice was the priest who played the Organ—so old, so frail, and so gentle.

Father Hames was a lovely person and was always there for people. He found accommodation, furniture and all manner of items and solutions to people's problems. Joe and Dorothy Flannery remember the first occasion that they went to Mass at Heston. Fr Hames came up behind them and put his arms around them as they were leaving and said "I haven't seen you two before."

(source: Mike Frost)

A presentation to Fr Anthony Hames by Mr Dennis, on behalf of the parishioners, to mark the occasion when Fr Hames returned to the Missions in Africa

I remember Father Walsh's fire and brimstone sermons. He was uneasy about regular latecomers to Mass. On one occasion the outer doors to the church were closed. This seemed to do the trick, though there were a few parishioners who were out of breath.

There was also dear Harry Tait of the black beret, who seemed to be able to do every job under the sun for the parish.

We also had Cubs, Scouts, Brownies and Guides, of course. Mr Merriman ran the Sixth Hestion Cubs. We had monthly church parades, meeting up at the White Sisters' convent and marching to the old church for Mass.

We played football against the other Cub packs and our goalkeeper was Anthony Sullivan. We both went to St Michael's and Martin's Catholic Primary School (in Houslow) and then went on to Gunnersbury Catholic Grammar (in Chiswick). Anthony left after the first year and I never saw him again until nearly 40 years later—when going to 7.00 pm Mass at Heston one Saturday, who should be saying Mass but Father Anthony Sullivan !


Editor's note : Andrew has been a lifelong member of the parish at Heston. Now that he has taken the plunge, I am hoping that he will come up with a few more memories from those early days.

From Heretic to Altar Boy at St. Mary’s 1948
by Peter Briody

I joined the Heston parish school, known as St Mary’s, in the Spring of 1948 at the age of 7. The school was an improvised affair at the end of the parish hall. The pupils were of mixed ages ( I think 4-7 ) and were in the care of two Irish “black” nuns ( Order unknown. Probably the Poor Servants of the Mother of God, I am told ), Sr. Rosario and Sr. Mary-Carmel. There was an attempt at segregation of the pupils into classes: Sr. Rosario looked after the younger pupils and Sr. Mary-Carmel the older ones, to which I belonged. It was the “all-in-one” solution for about 30 pupils, with the teachers sitting side-by-side and no partition between them.

Sr. Rosario was the older and the quieter of the two women ( perhaps 40 - 50 ) and she was humorous, friendly and approachable — perhaps the perfect teacher for the younger ones. Sister Mary-Carmel, aged in her 20s, had other characteristics: she was, on the face of it, the firebrand, the fierce disciplinarian, the good teacher, who expected and produced results.

I came to notice, soon after arrival, as Sr. Mary-Carmel asked me to recite the “Lord’s Prayer”. My last school had been a Protestant school ( although I didn’t know it, at the time ) and I recited everything perfectly including “… for Thine is the Kingdom …” . Sr. Rosario gazed at me quizzically but Sr. Mary-Carmel didn’t bat an eyelid — she just waited for me to finish and said, “That’s the Protestant ‘Our Father’, you will have to learn to cut it short after, ‘ . . . but deliver us for evil, Amen’ ” . I wanted to ask what a Protestant was, but still in awe of the “firebrand”, I decided to keep quiet. By the time I got home, I couldn’t remember the words so I must have learned what the difference was, some time later, in some other way. Perhaps I still don’t know the difference.

The playground consisted of a concrete section running parallel to the hall and adjacent to it. Where the concrete ended there was a pleasant green strip running parallel to the White Fathers’ large chicken run, which was also available for playing. It was secluded and could be easily supervised by one person. It was plainly ideal.
 
My first playtime as the new boy was used by some of the girls to perform their favourite trick. ( I think one of them had the surname Merriman* but I could be mistaken ). They circled me in and recited a ditty which ran “Adam and Eve and Pinchme went down to the river to swim. Adam and Eve drowned, which of them all came in ?”. I fell for it hook line and sinker. As I was being pinched by the girls, the boys – and the chickens — looked on in amusement.  ( Unfortunately, there were not yet enough hormones in my body for me to really enjoy it ).

*Merrifield, perhaps. Mr & Mrs Merriman had one child, a boy named David, I think.

Exactly how much ferocity lay behind Sr. Mary-Carmel’s “firebrand” image became clear one day as I arrived late for the afternoon school clutching an iced lollipop. She put up an intimidating display of Irish indignation – and I really thought I was “for it”, but afterwards she sent me out into the parish hall to finish the “dream in ice”. On another day as the class broke into laughter over some incident or other. Sr. Mary-Carmel decided it was time to punish those who had violated the dignity of the classroom in this manner. She singled out the culprits one by one and they had to each hold out his or her hand for a stroke of the cane. I was a little surprised as my turn came, because it was only a little tap — not painful at all. As Sr. Mary-Carmel was through with the penultimate delinquent, she made the last culprit, Sr. Rosario, hold out her hand as well. It had all been a huge joke.

I do not remember Sr. Mary-Carmel ever caning anyone in earnest – and Sr. Rosario wouldn’t have dreamed of it .

Sometimes we had visits from Fr. Lea, WF ( probably acting parish priest ) to see how we were getting on. We always looked forward to those visits because Fr Lea would read us a tale, tell jokes and laugh with us. One time he arrived in the middle of a thunder-storm and a mighty clap of thunder. We weren’t to worry he said, it was "only God moving the furniture around".

All schools at the time suffered from the post-war birth explosion and had to improvise on the basis of overcrowded classrooms Sr. Mary-Carmel had a system, which perhaps solved some of the problems: she had produced problem cards for the teaching of arithmetic, which the older pupils would use in unsupervised work – as many as the respective pupil could manage in the time available. The results were marked by Sr. Mary-Carmel either before lunch or before last prayers. One day I was lazy and completed only one card — and all the solutions were wrong. As I went up to get my results, Sr. Mary-Carmel gave me a such an extensive verbal lashing, that I was more than grateful afterwards to be able to crawl out under the door and slink off home. Anyway I didn’t do that again

On Wednesdays ( I think ) we went to “Benediction” and it was my fellow pupil, Patrick Sulliley who served at the Altar during this ceremonial. He did the job very well and the teachers were content to leave it that way. One day, however, Patrick departed for another school, a pending fact that somehow got overlooked. As the Priest, whose name I have forgotten, stood there helplessly, Sr. Mary-Carmel signalled me to come to her – and I was suddenly an altar boy, an altar boy who had had no training, without a clue. Well I messed up the first assignment, spilling hot embers from the thurible onto the altar steps. That improved, however, with time and I became the permanent altar boy from the St. Mary’s until my departure from the school in the fall of 1948.

Sincerely

Peter Briody

The Annual Trip To Lourdes



(Source : David Rose)

Lourdes 1954

L-R : Jean Wood,Victoria Rose and Tony Devane



(Source and names : David Rose)

Lourdes 1954

L-R :
Back : Jean Wood, Jean Merriman, Mrs Hawkes, Mrs Sainsbury Sr., Mrs Mulqueen, ——, Mary Lynch, Mrs Merrifield,——, Mrs Viner, Mary Tait, Fr Hames, Win Mulqueen, Ronald Rose, Victoria Rose, Mrs Newman, Win Lawrance, Mary Keating, ——, ——, Win & Albert Desmond
Front : Tony Devane, Maggie Gleeson, David Rose, Marie Miller, Pam Chapman, Miss Shore, Mrs Jupp, Eileen Sammons and her sister, the Pilgrim Rep

Lourdes 1955


(Source and names : David Rose)

Lourdes 1955

The White Father standing next to Brother Richard is probably Fr Patrick Fitzgerald.
David Rose is standing at the front. The two ladies to the left of the WF are Monica Viner and Marie Miller.
Standing above to Monica's left is Margaret Viner. Above Margaret is Mr and Mrs Rose.
To the right of the nun is Mrs Baxter.
Below Mrs Baxter is Win Lawrence, Mr Baxter and Mrs Parr.
Mrs Hawkes is standing to the left of Rep on top row. Standing above the ladies to the right of Brother Richard is Miss Sammon.

Lourdes 1971


(Source and names : David Rose)

Lourdes 1971

David writes (April 2006) : "Holding the pushchair is my late wife Cymbeline Rose and my daughter Maria. To her left is myself and mother-in-law Iris Wheeler.

On the back row left next to the nun is George from Heston (surname not known). Next to mum is Harry Tait.

I cannot identify the 3 priests."

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Lourdes 1998


(Source and names : David Rose)

Lourdes 1998 : The Duchess of Kent, Cardinal Hume and Wendy Rose


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Lourdes 1999


(Source and names : David Rose)

Lourdes 1999 : Wendy with Canon Peter Moore

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From Altar Boy to Nickelodeon and back to Heretic

The Traynor brothers lived, as far as I can remember, as bachelors in the same road as the Tait family. Frank was a teacher with a sad voice, reminiscent of the late comedian Tony Hancock and Tony Traynor was a dapper little man, who probably worked in a bank or some public service. Both the brothers were in charge of training and detailing the Altar boys at Heston. Frank would perform the duties of MC at Sunday High Mass from about 1949-1951. I went to St Michael and Martin's School for a year from the fall of 1948 to 1949 but until 1952 attended St Anselm's in Southall. I was unable to continue my career as an altar boy during this time – I somehow didn’t qualify in the selection process, until Fr. Hames caused a cataclysmic change in the organisation in the summer of 1951 or thereabouts. I will come back to that. Frank Traynor was my teacher in the first year at St. Anselm's in 1950. We were a class of 48 pupils and Frank used to sometimes become frayed at the edges, but did his best. I remember him mainly because of two weekly extra curricular activities: Music lessons with Frank playing the violin and his readings from Greek Mythology. Frank’s music lessons consisted mostly of recitals of folk music and his favourite piece was ‘The Jolly Miller’, the latter contrasting with the rather sad face he used to put on, while playing the violin. Well it awakened our interest in music, probably not in a way that Frank had intended. In that year (1950 ) a young singer called Teresa Brewer made a smash hit with a honky tonk song called 'Music, Music, Music’. “Put another nickel in, in the nickelodeon .. etc” (anyone interested can hear it on http://www.teresafans.org). Well somehow a reworded version of the song found its way into our repertoire: “Put another penny in, in Frank Traynor’s cocoa tin, when he plays his violin, it’s murder, murder, murder. “ Well, if Frank Traynor’s music lessons were a matter for the UN Human Rights Commission or at least the NSPCC, his readings from Greek mythology were by contrast very exciting. He conjured up the mythological characters such as Odysseus, Polyphemus, the Hydra or the Sirens with extraordinary story-telling skill and we 48 pupils were all held spellbound - were silent for a change. I didn’t have the benefit of a classical education in later years, so Frank’s contribution will have to do me. Fr. Walsh was parish priest from 1948 to 1951. Much has been written about this exceptional man but I would like to contribute two points which stuck in my memory. One day someone had vomited all over the altar steps and Fr. Walsh cleaned the mess up himself. He didn’t call for Maggie ( see below ) to come – that was the kind of person he was. His frustration with the latecomers at Sunday Mass was not due to their late appearance but to the fact that they would stand around at the back of the church when there were places free at the front. One day he stopped in the middle of his sermon, invited them to take the free places and waited until they were seated before continuing. Fr Walsh departed to become Bishop of Aberdeen in 1951 and was replaced by Fr. Hames (another exceptional man) with some weeks delay. Sometime in 1952, I believe the Spring, Fr. Hames decided that the system for appointing altar boys needed changing. He felt that it was time to give more experience and responsibility to a younger generation of lads.

This gave the older ones time to recruit and train these newcomers during the transit period. This actually benefitted me because I was back on the Altar again after nearly four years away from it. Here it would be appropriate to honour the woman who tended the Altar, candles, linen and the flowers of the church. Her name was Maggie Gleason. I was a resident of the parish from 1948 to 1953 and Maggie had always been there to keep everything ship-shape. She was a tiny quiet friendly woman, who just got on with the business. You could always locate Maggie in the church, because she had squeaky shoes. Perhaps she wore “creepers” after some bad experience with normal shoes – the floors of the chapel were always highly polished. Whether it was Benediction, Stations of the Cross or High Mass you could hear clockwork Maggie’s “squeak, squeak, squeak”, the prelude to every ceremony. One of my first assignments as an altar boy – second time round - was to serve at Fr. Prentice's Mass at 7 am each morning in the year 1952. He was already quite frail at the time – occasionally he would suffer dizzy spells and would stagger at the altar. When I visited him again in 1957, he was fully bed-ridden and didn’t recognize me. For these reasons I am sceptical about his date of birth, given as 1872. I think there is a discrepancy of about 10 years somewhere. He had loved Uganda and it broke his heart to be ordered back in to Europe to retire. Perhaps that had something to do with it. In the fall of 1952 I was back in a Protestant school ( Southall Grammar ) but still serving Mass at 7 am with Fr. Prentice. At first I had the good fortune to share denominational exclusion from morning assembly with a pretty Irish girl, whose name I can’t remember. That didn’t last long, however, because the waiting room was cold and we decided to sneek in to normal morning prayers. So there I was standing next to Anne Twitchen, a girl with whom I was madly in love, and tacking the extra bit onto the Lord’s prayer once again. I didn’t tell anybody back at Heston about my act of heresy, mainly because I could see nothing wrong with it. There was little difference in the Protestant and Catholic morning assemblies, as far as I could tell - save for one thing specific to Southall Grammar: At the end of the assembly, as we were filing out, the music master would play Bach’s “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring” (Cantata BWV 147) on the organ. It is an enchanting piece and I became hooked on it from day one - perhaps thanks indirectly to Frank Traynor, who awakened my interest in music. These anecdotes are the result of the underdeveloped perceptions of youth backed up by mature reconstruction. Not at all perfect, but the best I can do. Perhaps some of the stories here will jog memories and, who knows, perhaps we will get a more complete picture of the Parish of Heston one day ?   Peter Briody

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