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I was born on the 7th of April 1906, the second son of George and Edith Keen, and was christened Stanley Arthur. My parents lived at Florence Villa ( lately known as No.38 ) Benjamin Road, High Wycombe, England.
My father was the youngest child of three, and very little was ever said about his parents. They had lived at Downley and his father drank himself to death at an early age, leaving his wife and son all but destitute. Even up to the time of his death at 84, the thought of his mother spending long hours at the mangle for a 1d a dozen , moved my father to tears.
His brother was named James and, after a hard start , eventually became a partner of a high quality furniture making factory known as CAFFELL & KEEN . This was in Queen's Road, High Wycombe. Production ceased during the First World War but was later reopened and the business was continued by his sons under the name of F.KEEN & CO.
My father's sister, Fanny, after much opposition from her family, married Bert Nash. From what I can recall and was told this marriage was a disaster for her. They both died in the Amersham workhouse.
My mother was one of two daughters born to William Piercy and his wife who lived, I believe, a few houses off Desborough Road in Westbourne Street, High Wycombe. Her mother died whilst she and her sister were very young and as it was considered improper for a man to bring up young girls they were taken over by their aunt. Eventually my mother was found a job in service.
Her sister's name was Florence (hence the house named Florence Villa) and she married Arthur Markham. They had one daughter, Dorothy. I do not know if Uncle Arthur was a regular soldier or not but he was a captain during the war and my first hero.
My elder brother was named Wilfred and we were followed by Florence, Marjorie, Norman and Beryl. We were a happy family and we had a wonderful childhood. We obviously made a lot of work for our parents but father was a marvel. He had a large garden which he tended with great care, growing flowers for mother, fruit and vegetables. In addition there was a large allotment where he grew the main crop of greens. But with it all he had time for his children, if they wanted something done or made he could do it.
If there was an odd one out, it was me!I did enjoy a bit of mischief; it came to be accepted that if there was something wrong or damaged it was Our Stan who was responsible. Because of this I often got the blame for things I did not do and knew nothing about. All the others were a bit Goodie, Goodie and I was a bit Baddie, Baddie. As a result I quite early on ceased to be Mother's favourite, but Father was strictly fair: he wanted a bit more proof.
Six days a week we could play and mess about, but Sunday was Sunday. Both parents were devoted members of Oxford Road Free Methodist Chapel - Mother in her younger years was a worker in the Sunday School and Ladies' Meeting, and Father for years was a trustee.
We were very early sent to morning and afternoon Sunday School and, as we grew older, to Evening Service. More than sixty years on I recall with pleasure some of the events and wonderful people I met. The first minister I knew was the Rev W C Smith. He was a wonderful minister: a father and friend to all his flock.
The Smiths had six children, the youngest of whom was Esther. She was born on almost the same day as me and I cannot remember a time when we were not in love; from babes in arms to the day she died. Dear Essie...
The chapel was situated on the corner of Oxford Rd and Temple St. It was a rather narrow entrance between the chapel and the river. As the congregation had so increased it was decided to build a larger church with a much wider entry over the river Wye. This, I think, was about 1911. I can just remember Father taking me to see the church being built and being concerned about all the water running underneath.
When it came to Stone Laying Day our parents paid for Wilfrid and myself to lay a stone. I do not remember this but, until the chapel was pulled down sixty years on, the stone still stood.
One of the grand old men was Edmund West who was Sunday School's junior head and after morning school we gathered for the morning service. Mr West had a long stick with which he tapped the Baddies and a bag of jelly babes for the Goodies. I very rarely got a babe. Mr West's son, William, became a class teacher for the older boys and I can recall even now a recurring them of his lessons; how easy and wrong of us, who have had little temptation to sin, to condemn those who fall after being badly tempted.