Things happened in between such as when the boys - that is Rosie’s boys, Norman and Eric - came to stay with us. Once they ran away from home. This happened after their mother had died and their father married again to Miss May Charles, a former nurse. The boys fell out with their father and went to Birmingham and booked a train to Euston to come to us. Eric was about twelve and Norman fourteen.

What a joy it was too see them and hear them relating their journey - momentous.

They found us at Croxted Road and Frank was to them the universe with London swimming around him. He was their musical man; their star of romance. With beaming faces they beheld him in his dressing gown, for it was late at night and we had been hauled out of our beds.

We had a large settee in the lounge where my mother used to sleep. She used to turn up at any old time and Frank was always pleased to see her and made her welcome. She lived at ‘Braiside’ in South Norwood - not far off - and would take a bus and come to us whenever she felt like it. She let two furnished flats and had her own apartments.

We had parties and food was sent down from some of the big stores such as ‘Whitleys’ or ‘Selfriges’ or the ‘Army and Navy Stores’. We had cold chicken, fruit and basket bottles of Chianti from Italy.Sometimes we packed our bags and went to a cottage at the ‘Tally Ho’ at Toys Hill, Brasted and celebrated there. Eric came there one Christmas.

I used to love to cook a joint of beef, letting out the shelves of the oven and hanging it on a hook and basting it until the meat was cooked brown all over. This reminded me of my childhood. At ‘Einhallow’ we had a great spit behind a screen, and a fifteen to thirty pound turkey would be roasted, going round and round with a clock that ticked, and the turkey would turn around the other way when the alarm went off. It was an everlasting delight to creep down and edge into the kitchen and watch the bird through a crack in the screen. Cook would sometimes give me a piece of bread dipped in the fat - all fizzling hot.

Now, to continue about Norman and Eric’s visit to us at Croxted Road where we had a very nice house and our landlord lived next door. We were frequently giving parties and arranged to give the two boys a treat. A fine lobster salad and Chianti was secured and they were allowed, of course, to have a little of this. All kinds of thing happened to enhance the thrill these boys felt for their uncle.

Eric said that when the evening paper was dropped in the letter box, Frank would carelessly open it and sigh with relief that it had made an appearance. He would say, “I was a bit late leaving Fleet Street and might have bought it with me. I see that the speech has been reported but incorrectly as Herbert (meaning Viscount Leverhume) is on the war path and Northy (Lord Northcliffe) is buttering him up - ah, yes Teddy (King Edward who reigned then) got a good tale to tell his ma.” (The Qeeen Victoria) And then he’d chuck the paper down.

The night we had the lobster salad - after the event - to the great delight of these boys, uncle said, ‘We’ve had the ‘lob’ - what shall we do with the’ stir?”

They watched with wonder in their eyes. What was going to happen now?

“I know”, Frank said, “We’ll drop it in next door’s garden.”

He then opened the french window and threw the empty lobster shell right in the middle of the lawn. It was two o’clock in the morning and after closing the window with shouts of laughter, we heard a knocking on the ceiling. We had let a furnished flat to Mr Blanchard and his wife and baby.

Frank stood aghast.  

 “Who’s that daring to knock on my ceiling -

Another good bang came.

“ - Telling me to go to bed,” is he?”

“Perhaps we are keeping him awake,” I said.

“Keeping him awake - when for six months this baby had disturbed our nights - Eric - get me pen and paper".

Eric did and Frank wrote on it - the date and address and underneath - Mr and Mrs Blanchard are requested to vacate the flat at one week’s notice - signed Frank Mellersh.’

This caused great indignation. The next day everything was very quiet and we saw Frank and Mr Blanchard walking in the garden and both smoking cigars (Very good cigars provided by the culprit who had his notice) Even to this day Eric and I have a laugh over the ‘lob’ and the ‘stir’. Evidence says it was a stir.

“Norman,” said Uncle.” ‘can you play the piano? I’m going to sing a song to the cat.”

“I can’t play, uncle.”

“Can’t play the piano? Goodness gracious me! You must learn at once. I’ll take you up to Gilbert and Sullivan - or perhaps better still send a word to Mozart. You must learn - very necessary - very.

He opened up the black piano and started to sing in a rich baritone voice:

the cat and the owl put out to sea

in a beautiful pea green boat

with lots of honey and some money

Wrapt up in a five pound note -

The owl looked up at the stars above

As he twanged on his old guitar

Oh Pussy my dear Oh pussy my sweet

What a beautiful pussy you are’

Then, having dashed off the ‘Destiny Waltz’, he announced that he had made up his mind to have a signature tune to be played at the last - a close down before we went to bed - not later than eleven at night' So he chose my brother, Arnold’s ‘Cake Walk’ and sang it to a black girl. It was very catchy and light. I remember the last line being shouted. It almost bought the house down

Oh how I love that black girl!

And she loves me!

I think about these times when my darling sister was alive and she used to let the boys come and stay and then come herself for a couple of weeks to take them back home again. She told me that Norman had named Frank the ‘Golden King’ I rather liked this as I felt that they did realise that he was a wonder.

He had that wonderful charm about him that everybody liked. He was also remarkably handsome with his black hair, with a twinge of a white wing in front, brushed back, and going a bit grey at the back although he was only forty five. He wore dress clothes which gave him a distinguished air.

Frank made the boys really enjoy themselves with the antics he used to get up to. Norman reminded me of the time when we all went to the ‘Brixton Empire’ for an evening. Sitting in front of us in the orchestra stalls, was a man hat his hat on - not the exact row but the next one.

Frank said to Norman, “Do you play Golf?”

“No, uncle, I don’t.”

“Well,” said Uncle, “I”ll teach you how!”

And with that he put his walking stick straight and with his eye screwed up, he lowered the stick to the level of the hat and shot it out like a gun. The hat went flying. Uncle sat down and people looked round quickly but they could only see Eric and Norman doubled up with laughter.