UP NORTH
It was going to be impossible to stay in London without a job; having to pay a mortgage out of an invalidity pension. I had three criteria for moving – 1. somewhere the cost of living would be cheaper, 2. close enough to the Wirral to be able to reach Mum if needed, but far enough away to be able to live my own life, 3. a good transport system with easy access to both East and West coasts, 4. somewhere with cultural activities, 5. easy access to town and countryside. Huddersfield seemed to satisfy all of these; I sold my house in Streatham for three times what was paid, which enabled me to buy a dormer bungalow outright (no mortgage) on the outskirts, in Crosland Moor. My friends said: “Why on earth are you going to Huddersfield?”.
When my confidence returned a little I applied for several jobs, as a librarian, an Education Welfare Officer – the interviewer said my experience of Education Welfare in London was greater than his. Perhaps he was worried for his job; I wasn't accepted. There were other interviews where It was obvious that my recent medical history was a drawback; also, at the time, employers were required to consider and interview applicants with disabilities, but it was a token gesture very often. I learned to type properly, took a course in Business administration to NVQ3 level, applied for a typing job with the Police, took a typing test – result – too slow. During the test my mind went blank with anxiety; I couldn't remember how to spell 'colleague': using a dictionary to check was permitted, but wasted time. Another reason given was that I was too old (at 43!) “We have a young team and you wouldn't fit in”. I gave up, but the Unemployment benefits office were hell bent on getting me trained for some sort of occupation. Tongue in cheek I opted for being a furniture restorer, thinking that there wouldn't be training for this; they would leave me alone. The course I was sent on was thoroughly enjoyable and probably very therapeutic. It was set up in co-operation with Social Services to repair and refurbish furniture donated to them for use by people in need. This involved stripping wood, replacing damaged parts, glueing and screwing, varnishing and French polishing. I learned to cane chairs, and when restoration work ran out we made furniture out of beechwood for Nursery and Infants' school's 'Home corners' or Wendy houses. Pretend fridges, cookers, sink units with cupboards, beds, and boxes for dressing up clothes were made by a group of unemployed, or redundant people who felt as though they were on the scrap heap but wanted something useful to do.
Kirklees Council built a new Community Centre for Crosland Moor. The council owned the building, fixtures and fittings and furnishings, but the community ran the centre. A Community Association was set up. At a public meeting my neighbour was elected chairman; I was appointed secretary, or general dogs-body. My responsibilities extended much further than minute taking at committee meetings; virtually the whole management of the Centre was in my hands, from taking bookings for classes (Tae Kwondo, Aerobics), parties, weddings, play group, over 60s Club, to ordering cleaning materials, and unlocking and locking the premises before and after events. We also ran a pie and peas lunch on a Friday for the elderly. This, at first, was completely voluntary; after a few years the Committee realised how much time I was spending and offered to make my role salaried, offering £25 per week. A salaried caretaker was also appointed. Life was quite pleasant.