To her surprise, Mum got the job at British Telecom and started working there the week after the interview. She was working in a department called Data Preparation, which processed the information on new customers, changes of address and so on.
Mum’s job was to put the paperwork relating to this into alphabetical order and then hand it on to one of the permanent staff who then put the information into a computer. It wasn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it was easy – and the people she worked with were friendly. And, for a change, she was working in a lovely open-plan office on the 9th floor of a brand-new building.
Towards the end of the first week, she’d decided she was going to like working there for the next four months. Then disaster struck…
Mum woke up with no problems on the Friday morning, but, as she sat up in bed, she went suddenly dizzy – and a couple of minutes later, as she got out of bed, it was even worse and she fell over.
Luckily she was staying with Granny Betty and Grandpa Graham at the time and they sent for the doctor who said Mum had labyrinthitis (caused by a nerve in the inner ear becoming inflamed) and would have to have a week off work.
Mum thought she might lose her new job as a result, but instead she was welcomed back and – to her amazement! – she was paid in full for the days she’d been ill, which was a luxury she’d not had for many years.
The job went smoothly after that, with the only notable event being a bomb scare one damp afternoon. Although everyone thought (and hoped) it was a hoax, the building still had to be evacuated via the staircases and everyone had to stand outside in the drizzle for half an hour while the building was checked and nothing was found.
While Mum was working at British Telecom, she was also halfway through the third year of her Open University degree. One of the courses she was studying was called The Changing Experience of Women and it involved going on a week-long summer school at the University of East Anglia, not far from Norwich.
Mum says that, if she’s honest, she can’t really remember much about the lectures at the summer school, other than having to watch the film Calamity Jane, starring Doris Day, for what seemed like at least a dozen times. As Mum isn’t too fond of musicals, this was a bit of a trial for her and she’s never watched Calamity Jane again!
She also remembers that there were just four men among what seemed like several hundred women students and, as the students were split into groups for the lectures, each group was asked if it wanted to remain all women or would it accept one of the men.
Her best memories of the summer school are of the free time she had there. Some of it was just long enough to go for a walk around the campus, where the Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts would have been a big attraction if only it had been open while she was there.
But in the middle of the week Mum had three free hours and, as she’d never been to Norwich before, she caught a bus into the city centre and went sight-seeing.
She just had time to visit the Norwich cathedral, which was dedicated in 1101…
…have a quick look around the open-air market…
…and wander round some of the old, narrow streets…
…before it was time to catch a bus back to the university for more lectures. But she enjoyed what she saw of Norwich and hopes to go back eventually.
The last evening of the summer school was given over to entertainment, with some students being expected to sing, dance, act, play musical instruments and so on, while others watched.
As I’m sure you can imagine by now, this didn’t appeal to Mum either and so, as soon as the evening meal was finished, she got in her car and headed for the coast, going first to Cromer…
…and then on to Sheringham…
…before turning back towards the university as dusk was falling – and seeing a beautiful barn owl out hunting for its supper, which is a memory she treasures to this day.
By the time Mum got back from the summer school, the end of her job with British Telecom was in sight – and she still hadn’t paid so much as a penny off her loan from Granny Betty and Grandpa Graham. This was because, having been self-employed for the previous three years, she didn’t have a tax code and so every pound she earned at her new job was taxed at 29%, which didn’t leave her with much to spare until the problem was sorted.
Though she’d managed to sell a few more stories over the summer, she knew she needed to find another job by the end of September – and, with one of her applications she once more found herself in the right place at the right time…
That’s another long story, however, so I’ll tell you that in my next post. Meanwhile, take care and stay safe – and I’ll be back again soon!
Follow my next blog: 137. MY MUM THE STORY-TELLER – PART THIRTY-ONE
25/03/2021
Wilf the bear-faced blogger 