Ian Lavender: My family values
I was born in Birmingham in 1946. My brother, Paul, is seven years older. Although we got on well, we came from seemingly different generations: he was born before the war and I arrived after; that made a huge difference. While I grew up thinking bananas were normal, he hadn’t seen one for a great chunk of his childhood. By the time I was five, I was getting a reasonable amount of toys, whereas for him, there hadn’t been many due to the war.
My father was a policeman and a sergeant by the time he retired. He only enjoyed three years of retirement before dying in the early 1970s, aged 68. As a boy, I dreamed of becoming a detective.
I inherited my love of music and singing from my mum. She sang in the church choir and local Gilbert and Sullivan productions. She had a lovely voice. There was always music in our house. I envied my brother, who had a record player. I wasn’t allowed to touch it but when he was out, I’d sneakily play some of his discs – such as the Firehouse Five and Chas McDevitt.
We were poor and I’ll never understand how we got by. I realise my parents managed by working hard. It certainly taught me the value of money. My brother being seven years older meant there were no hand-me-downs to save cash. I couldn’t borrow any of his clothes, not even his school blazer, which would have saved my parents considerable money. Their philosophy was that you shouldn’t have what you can’t afford. It took ages to persuade Dad to rent a TV. But as soon as we got one, he loved it and you couldn’t get near the set, especially on Saturday afternoons when he’d watch wrestling.
I have my dad to thank for taking me to Edgbaston, home of Warwickshire Cricket club. I discovered cricket at nine and it became a passion – and still is. Living in Bournville meant the ground was just a tuppeny bus ride away. I went on to play wicketkeeper for the college and Barnt Green Cricket Club in north Worcestershire.
Our family life moved on a timetable. My father worked three different shifts all his working life. They were two-weekly shifts and I’ve no idea how he coped. For a fortnight we’d see him at breakfast, the next two weeks at teatime and the other two as he got ready for night duty. It meant my brother and I had to be quiet if he was sleeping during the day; that’s when I realised that I was living in a different kind of environment to my friends. Mum was the constant figure in the house. She was a lovely, caring mother who died at the end of the 70s, aged 72.
My father hoped I’d attend university. In the end, he was proud of what I achieved and enjoyed watching me in Dad’s Army. But Mum was happy about my decision from the start.
Being a father is wonderful. It’s been lovely watching my two sons grow up and become such amazing people, despite life’s vicissitudes. They are special people. There’s an awful lot of theory now regarding bringing up children with DVDs, books and internet sites all offering advice. None of that existed when my parents were raising Paul and me. They just had to get on with it and do the best they could, and they did a great job.
Ian Lavender is appearing at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in You’re Never Too Old and Don’t Tell Him, Pike until 24 August. Details www.edfringe.com or call 0131-226 0026