Hilda Mollie Canning (1920 – 2020)
Mollie Canning is the eldest interviewee in the series. She first came to work and live in Leatherhead during World War 2 and later returned with her husband who was working nearby. They lived at Givons Grove for many years and she eventually moved to be closer to the town. Always active in church activities, she drove her car at the age of 97.
Interview date: 29 November 2017
Venue: Fetcham
Interviewer: Tony Matthews
Beginnings
Your full name and date of birth?
Hilda Mollie Canning, 24 July 1920.
Where were you born?
Wandsworth Common, Melody Road.
Your parents’ names?
Mother was Hilda Bedelia Parris and Ross Doling. He worked for the London Passenger Transport Board, keeping records of tyres. He had an office of about 40 girls under him. It was all hand-written of course, records.
Did your mother work too?
No. She worked as a clerk before she married but don’t forget that everybody had to leave work when they married. I did.
Any siblings?
Yes, two brothers. Norman the eldest, Eric the next one, and I was the spoilt baby. I’m the only one left.
Any family links with Leatherhead then?
No, not at all.
School days
Where did you go to school?
Peckham Rye. A grammar school called Honor Oak. Previously, the infants school was called All Farthing Lane. We had a horrid headmaster who was P G Adams, known as “Pig”.
Not a very pleasant man. Was he strict?
Yes but the teaching must have been good because I got my 11 Plus or whatever you called it then. No trouble.
Matriculation?
That was at 16 when you were at the grammar school. I had to go right across London because I was myopic and there was somebody at County Hall when you had your medical when you passed the 11 Plus and they must have had a bee in their bonnet about short-sighted. That if you did exercise your eyes when you were growing they would be better. So I did all my writing on an easel with inch high letters and we were known as The Myopics. There were about three in each class. But we played it to our advantage because we were only allowed to read and write every third lesson. So we said sorry Miss, we can’t take that test because we mustn’t write this lesson. So I learned to be devious.
What else do you remember of your school days?
Very happy. I loved the sport and it was a beautiful school. It was newly built by the London County Council so it was a showplace. We had all sorts of Americans and people to look round. It was built around a big quadrangle with roses up the pillars. It was really delightful. I stayed to 16, took my matriculation and then the headmistress called me in. She said will you go home and ask your father if you can stay on in the sixth form and try for university? Now when I went home and told Dad he said oh, that’s not for the likes of us. It never occurred to me to argue. Never occurred to me to say but Dad I would like to. Anyway it didn’t matter. Life turned out all right.
Working in Leatherhead during World War 2
What did you do instead of university?
This is what brought me to Leatherhead. I worked for the Air Ministry as a clerk and then when war broke out we were evacuated to Harrogate. I thought I was in heaven. I had never seen anything but Box Hill before. We had nine glorious months up there. It was the “Phoney War” when nothing happened. So they decided to bring us all back to London. We were in Millbank. We were only there a month and the bombing started. That’s what brought us down to Leatherhead. They evacuated our branch of the Air Ministry to Leatherhead.
Where were you working in Leatherhead?
Opposite the church there is a complex. The Priory. We took over all those buildings. My office was in the little white cottage that sides on to the Dorking Road. My office was upstairs. Beautiful view. It was the inspection department of the aircraft manufacturing. My husband came as an aircraft engineer. He wanted to join the Fleet Air Arm but he was very deaf so he hadn’t a chance but he was in a reserved occupation. I remember my boss calling me, a man who had been in the First World War with one arm. He said: “Mollie I want to warn you. Engineers don’t marry clerks.” Well I thought, this one’s going to if I have anything to say about it. But it shows the changing attitude, doesn’t it? I mean now, it doesn’t matter what you do, does it?
Husband John Canning
What did your husband do?
He was inspector of the factories. So he went round to Avro and De Havillands and checked their inspection departments. His career went from when he started it was linen and wood aeroplanes and he finished up with Concorde. So it was a tremendous change. He did his apprenticeship at De Havillands. Then he worked down at Reading at some small firm and they used to service the aeroplanes for Amy and Jim Mollison. So that was his first job. Then he saw this advertised with the Air Ministry and applied and he stayed with them the rest of his life really.
What period was this?
All together?… He was six years older than me.
Born in 1914.
Yes. So roughly he would have started his apprenticeship at 18? 16? I don’t really know that. It would have been five years I guess. Something like that.
His name?
John Hyde Mayo [Canning]. They were posh people his parents and mine were working class. That was fun.
When did you marry?
1942….1943 was my eldest son. 1944 was the next one. Then I had a gap and I had a daughter and then I had a four-gap and I had another daughter. So I had two boys and two girls. Very happy. Eldest is David. The next one is Paul and the girls are Elizabeth and Margaret. Very unadventurous names.
Where did you live?
Before we married we lived in Poplar Road. I was in digs with a family called the Daniels. He was a bus driver. I didn’t like him a bit. She was terribly motherly and looked after you. But John was billeted in Ashtead with the posh people. They didn’t want him. They didn’t want his money, his billeting money. So he was very unhappy there. I finally got him a room with a friend of my landlady in Poplar Avenue so we were quite close there. They wanted your money. They needed your money. But apart from that they were terribly kind and welcomed you.
So you settled in as a Leatherhead couple?
Yes. 1942…[but] we then moved down near Gatwick to a bungalow.
Living elsewhere
After the war?
No, no. About 1943, before the children were born. Because we were only in digs here and I remember I saw it in the newspaper…and paid 27s/6d for this lovely bungalow down at Horley. Smallfield, Horley. I had the cheek to go to a tribunal because my next door neighbour told me I was paying too much and I got it reduced to a pound. When you look back you think what a cheek. But John only earned £7 a week. I earned 27s/6d.
We moved to St Albans to be near John’s brother because his wife had died and I had the little girl. She lived with me. He got a transfer of his job to one of the firms up there so it all worked well.
When did you come back here?
Well first of all we went to Chester for seven glorious years. Everybody came up and we all went to the Welsh mountains. It was like a holiday really. We came back here 1969.
Back to Leatherhead
Givons Grove.
Yes. Quite big. We looked for a week and couldn’t find anything. My daughter said one more agent Mum. I said no good going in there. Anyway we went in and they showed me this. I said…we won’t be able to afford a house in Givons Grove. He said it’s an old house and it’s cheaper than the modern one. Anyway, when we walked in I loved it. They had a three-piece suite covered in the same material as mine so I felt terribly at home. It’s 1860. It was the farm bailiff [‘s cottage] so it was a bit bigger than the farm workers’. In the dining room it had a board all round to stop them…when they came in to get their money they all sat on seats, pushed your chair back and this prevented it scraping the wall.
1969 until 2006.
Yes.
John was working nearby?
Yes. When we came back they had given up The Priory. They worked in what were hospital huts in Chessington near the zoo. I think they had been wartime hospital huts and the Air Ministry took them over. He was there for a long while. It was the days when there were no laws about drink and drive because I remember going to a party at the French Embassy or something and I remember driving home with careless abandon. Mind you, there wasn’t as much on the road.
What about your children?
Where did the children go to school?
They were very little children when we moved to St Albans and they went to a state-aided grammar school, St Albans School, which they went to. The oldest got a scholarship, the second got a state-aided place at £22 a term. The girls went to a little prep school. I think he [John] had an uncle who died at the crucial moment so we had some money. Very convenient.
What did they do afterwards?
When we moved to Chester the eldest had been at university, Cambridge, and he never came home. The second one mucked about and couldn’t settle. He had missed the first year at school with meningitis so it put him back. He ended up in the London police force as a cadet. Had a marvellous time playing rugby and cricket and at the end of the year he said I’m not going to be a policeman. They rang us in Chester, [saying] can’t you persuade him? No he wouldn’t. So he became a baker’s rounds-man in Chester. But then he met a girl who was a nurse, an Irish girl, and he wanted to get married so he went back into the police to get a house. He has remained a policeman ever since. Well, he’s long since retired but he was a policeman. He finished up Inspector. At one time he had the job of….he moved down to London because he fell out with his boss so he wasn’t going to get promotion. He complained. I think they had an order that they must promote more women. So these women who were junior to the men got promoted and he went in to see the boss to complain. That was the end of any promotion for him. So he went to London on the transport police. He was in charge of the big stations during the IRA bombing. He had to say whether to close the station or take a chance. He got a long service medal….from Princess Anne for that work. He loved it. He was suited to be a policeman.
Your elder son?
He was an engineer. He worked for Costains on the building of the M1. Then he did a lot of work abroad. He still works as a consultant but he did say the other day I’m an old man, Mother….I am 74. I said everything’s comparative.
Your daughters?
Both married doctors. Elizabeth in Chester met a bloke at some dance, He ended up as a chest consultant…When we moved back to Leatherhead I thought [Margaret] won’t know anybody so we sent her to Oxford to a typing school. Residential. There she met her husband who ran discos and he became an orthopaedic surgeon.
Where are they all now?
David the eldest lives at Reading. Margaret and her orthopaedic husband live in Glasgow. Elizabeth lives in Bedfordshire. Margaret the youngest lives in Scotland. Paul lives at Dunstable, near Luton. If I need more help or have to move to a sheltered flat or something I will move north of the Thames because that M25 is a nightmare. Sometimes it taken them an hour and a half, two hours, three hours. You can’t tell. In some ways I haven’t been sorry because friends of mine who their family all around them, they are their beck and call. I have enjoyed my life here.
From Givons Grove to Elmer Cottages
When did John die?
He was 79. [1993] We were preparing to do his 80th birthday. I lived there [at Givons Grove] a long while afterwards then I decided it was time to move. Everything had worn out – stair carpet, carpets, curtains in ribbons. Every one wanted decorating. I felt right, it’s time to go. I’ve never regretted it. I sold it to lovely people who have extended it, built a swimming pool. Really love it. It was such a lovely home.
What brought you to Elmer Cottages [in 2006]?
It was the only one available. I looked at Poplar Road. I would have liked to have been in the town. But the stairs were like this, bathroom down the stairs out the back. I felt in the middle of the night I am going to be…..This came up and I said no, it’s too far out. But anyway it came back on the market so I bought this then.
Changing face of Leatherhead
Leatherhead has changed since the war times?
Of course it had this tiny high street both ways and the footpaths were really minute. Half way up on the left, if my memory is right, there was a shop, still there with a curved front, and that was a hardware. Moulds, I think. But underneath I think there was a cinema. I do remember going there because I remember bombs. Everything rattled. But my memories are that there wasn’t much damage in Leatherhead during the war. I remember a postman being killed but I don’t know where else there was bombing. It was lucky in a way. Nothing in the central bit.
Fortunate in view of the fact that the Air Ministry was here.
Yes, you would think they would have known that. But of course it was quite a small unit. I don’t know how many people. It was just this one branch, the inspection department. Then I remember the Thorndike being built. We all bought a brick, didn’t we. I remember buying a brick for Guildford Cathedral too. That remained unfinished for years. I hated it at first. It was so bare. I quite like it now. I don’t remember the Vicar because I had been brought up as a Plymouth Sister, John was Church of England. He wasn’t going to change so we compromised and went to the Methodists.
Plymouth Brethren and other Christians
Your mother’s middle name was Bedelia and your parents were Plymouth Brethren.
Yes they were but I don’t think it [the name] was tied up with that.
A very strict religion?
There were two sorts. There’s closed and open and it still holds good. In Church Road there’s a little chapel. Now they are terribly strict. They have huge families. Makes me laugh and takes me back. All the girls wear hats, all the boys wear little suits. When I park my car on Sunday morning they are all parking. All well to do. The Plymouth Brethren are well to do because they help each other get jobs but I was determined to make these people acknowledge me. I thought we are all Christians. So every morning I would say Good Morning. Not a thing. Then one day I backed into one of their cars and they all jumped out. I said I’m here every Sunday. Couldn’t find a scratch. If you find anything, you let me know. Now that one family will say Good Morning. Not the others. It’s strange. The theory is that you are in the world but not of the world.
Do you remember about being a Plymouth Sister as a child?
Yes. We were very lucky. It was a chapel on the edge of Wandsworth Common and it was full of young people so we had a marvellous time. In those days there was no hanky-panky. You all just….we walked, we came down to Box Hill. Went swimming, played tennis. It was fun. There were six boys I worked with in London. I remember one of them saying to me you and your religion. You want to get out and join the Labour Party and do some good in the world. I was very keen on that boy so I was quite……do you know those boys I worked with in London before the war. They were thrilled because when they got their call-up, because they worked for the Air Ministry they could all go straight into the Air Force and within a year they were all killed. So Armistice Day for me is quite sad. There were six and it was a very jolly department. I went in 1936 and we were till 1939. They were all my age too, the boys. They had had a big expansion after the 1930s slump because my brother tried to get in the Civil Service and they only took 50 or something. When I took the exam they took 200 or 300 so it was expanding.
What happened to your parents?
Was your father in the First World War?
No. He wasn’t an objector but he was in a reserved occupation. Why you were reserved counting tyres I don’t know. Never talked to him about it. You didn’t talk to your parents much then.Then he became what was known as a back-slider. At one time he used to preach, then he gave it all up. Mother continued and we kids did because all our life was around the young people there but when I look back, Sunday evening we used to carry a harmonium out on to Wandsworth Common, the boys preached and we girls sang duets and trios. Do you know, nobody barracked. When you think back, there was no television, very few people had a radio – free entertainment, wasn’t it. But when I think now, how could we have done it? Totally different. Very tolerant.
Mother’s father was a painter and decorator in Chelsea. They were brought up in Chelsea. When she married they got this house, nice three-storey house with a basement. Rented. Everybody rented, rather like they are going back to doing now. But because it was bombed during the war they got no compensation. The landlord got the compensation and they were homeless for ten years. They were in digs. Her uncle died down at Broadstairs and Mother seemed to fiddle it somehow. He had a council house and she fiddled it so that she got the council house. They moved to Broadstairs. We loved it. Free holidays wasn’t it. Mother lived to 94, she was around a long while at Sutton where my brother lived. Carshalton Beeches. Dad died at 74 but he had heart trouble you see. No pacemakers. My husband had heart trouble and he had a pacemaker. I’ve got a pacemaker. My son’s got a pacemaker. So there’s heart trouble but of course things improve, don’t they. We all live too long. We are bunging out the hospitals and it doesn’t give you younger people a chance.
More on Plymouth Brethren
Well now I have always been very tied up with the church but not here. When I was in St Albans I was Mothers’ Union enrolling member they called it and then I was in charge of the Young Wives groups. Our Mothers’ Union became younger than the Young Wives group, it was very odd. But I enjoyed that because I used to go all round Hertfordshire talking to the groups and I do like people. Because John had always been deaf I knew you had to articulate. I think probably it’s in the family cause my father preached. The boys preached on Wandsworth Common. The eldest boy [my elder brother] went into the bank and did very well. He ended up as manager of the Piccadilly Barclays. The other one went into insurance.
Did they stay as Plymouth Brethren?
No. The eldest one did, the second one became a Baptist. When you went into the Army or the Air Force you had to give a religion. They would say Plymouth Brethren – what the hell’s that? So I think it was easier to say Baptist as the nearest, really. You could just say CofE. Just in case you need a chaplain, isn’t it.
Do you think there is a similarity between the Plymouth Brethren and the Quakers?
The Plymouth Brethren are slightly more organised. You had morning – what we call communion – breaking of bread and anybody could get up and do it. Whereas I think in the Quakers they sit quiet. Whereas we used to have old boys who got up and spouted for hours. I remember as children we used to say oh! It’s old Mr so and so. We shall be late out today. But there is a similarity. I have a lot of Catholic friends. Catholics, Baptists, Church of England, Methodists, United Reformed. They are having a job in Leatherhead now to maintain the buildings. Methodists and United Reform were supposed to consider amalgamating but I don’t think either wants to give up their own church. Pretty difficult. To me they are all Christians. That’s why I get cross when these strict Plymouth Brethren won’t say good morning. I feel like saying good morning Christians. My son-in-law in Scotland keeps giving me frightfully clever books called Homo Sapiens and Homo Deus and there in the end we are all going to be taken over by robots. You won’t have any free will. I don’t like that. Can’t bear it. I want to know that I could choose good or evil.
Still behind the wheel
You are still driving at the age of 97.
Yes. I am very careful. I will go to Dorking dual carriageway. I’ll go down to the coast cause that’s a very easy road. I go to Guildford park and ride. I don’t so much like going into Epsom. I do go to Epsom Hospital because the car knows the way there. But I use it mostly for Sainsburys, church, visiting my elderly house-bound friends. It’s very useful for that. I don’t see myself driving another three years. But I am wary. If I thought I was dangerous I would give up straight away.
How long have you been driving?
I learned very late. I was 48 in Chester when I learned because my husband had always ferried me round to these Young Wives groups in the evening and he used to go and sit in the pub till I’d finished. But the man over the road was in hospital in Chester and all the neighbours had to take turns taking her to hospital to see him. He said to me I think it would be a good idea if you learned to drive. I was 48 and he was working away in Manchester I think. I had 48 lessons but I didn’t have any practice so I consider [they were the practice.] When I had taken the test I said to him do you think I have passed. He said on a good day yes, on a bad day no. I said how diplomatic. You are covered either way. But I used to drive down here from Chester. When I look back, can’t imagine doing it now. But because I am sitting, I get in the car and it’s when I get out the other end that I wobble.
You don’t mind today’s congestion?
I’m careful. I don’t go out from here till after nine o’clock. Holiday time is all right but it’s the mums in the cars really. Queues right up to Young Street…..You know the Canadians were here…and all along the Dorking road, that was there, the dual carriageway. They had tanks parked during the war. All along the Dorking road.
An Incident on Box Hill
What was it like when there were just country lanes here?
Being in London we did everything on the train. Our Sunday school outings were always Box Hill. So we came train to Westhumble, all the way up that grass slope. The most exciting Sunday school outing we had – I am ashamed now – a boy fell down the hill. We kids thought it was marvellous. Fortunately he got caught in a tree. So one of the men teachers climbed down and held him til the ambulance came up – or fire brigade – and hoisted him up with ropes. We thought it was wonderful. I can’t believe how thoughtless we were. He was all right. He hadn’t broken anything. Nothing. I expect he was larking about when he fell over the edge. I have always loved Box Hill.
Being elderly in Leatherhead
Always loved Leatherhead because of the surroundings. It’s lovely walking along the river. From here I can go along the river. I can walk along right to the Givons Grove roundabout on the cycle track and then come back through the leisure centre. I have never used the leisure centre but I tell you what I think is good, the LCA [Leatherhead Community Association’s Letherhead Institute]. I think they provide a tremendous lot. I have always been to an exercise class there for oldies but I can’t do it now, it’s sad. They do another one where you can sit down. But I think that Leatherhead is very community minded. Lovely atmosphere.
Another thing is because we have always had the blind and the disabled everybody is alert to help. And now I have noticed they are very alert to help me. I am very wobbly and if I have a stick in my hand and something else to open and they see you are struggling, I have never yet not been offered “Can I help you?” I do think it has the most marvellous social atmosphere.