From the Tiger Beat Archives, October 1968
Young brothers are a worry. If you’ve got one, you know what I mean. If anyone is going to embarrass or scandalize, you can bet it’s a young brother. Mine is no different—even though he’s called David Jones!
Up to about five years old, I suppose you could say he was a little angel. Most of the time he was a very quiet and shy boy. I remember when he was three he was chosen to be a pageboy in a pageant at Sunday School. All he had to do was walk hand in hand with a little girl down the school room. We drilled and rehearsed him for weeks until he was perfect, and on the big day, there he was, in a white satin suit, looking beautiful. Then, as the entrance music started, he wouldn’t go. Dad had to carry him!
The next time he was chosen to be a pageboy, it was for me. I was the Church Rose Queen, and I had to wear a long dress and train. I chose David and one of his friends to hold my train up as I walked down the church. The train was firmly fixed to my shoulders, and David and his friend held the other end. I should have known what would happen. David wouldn’t start, so to get us going, I lurched forward, dragging them behind me. And that’s what we did all down the church. Stop, tug, start, stop—tug, start.
OFF TO SCHOOL
David went to school shortly after this and discovered football, cricket, and athletics. At least this used up some of his energy and brought him out of his shell. He still had enough energy to climb up onto our back wall, fall, and bite the end of his tongue off when he was eight. It took three stitches. Soon after, he had an argument with another boy and came home with his earlobe hanging off. That was another three stitches
Not all his escapades ended in tragedy, but most of them ended with David getting dirty. So, when he was chosen to play the part of a magician with a blackened face in the school pantomime, he jumped at the chance. It was what you might call typecasting. He had to have his face and neck covered in black makeup every night for a week. Most days, Mother said he didn’t need makeup; he could just walk on stage and no one would tell the difference. This was what led to most of the trouble. David didn’t see why he had to come home from school and get a wash just to go to the pantomime and have his face blackened. Needless to say, Mother always won.
Around this time, skiffle groups were becoming popular, so when the next Sunday school pageant came along, David announced that he and his friends were going to form a skiffle group to entertain. They called themselves the Congo Boys, and their instruments were all homemade except for a large banjo which Dad used to play and which David had gotten hold of. The group used to rehearse at our house, and that was when we all found excuses to go out. The only way you could tell what they were singing was by listening to the words. Anyway, on the day of the pageant, they excelled themselves, and even the family clapped!
DAVY THE CARPENTER
When David was eleven or twelve, he got interested in woodwork and in easy stages, over about three months, he constructed a pair of stepladders. They were very solidly built, and as I was soon to be married, he presented them to me. I still have them, and they are as good now as when he made them. The only catch was that I had to pay for the wood.
We had a bit of trouble at this time over a fancy dress dance we were all going to. David had decided he would cut a slate as a jockey, and his costume was duly arranged. What he hadn’t realized was that it would be made of satin and be very colorful. On the way to the dance, we had to walk all around him so no one would see. He soon got over his embarrassment, won a prize, and later on, of course, he really did become a jockey.
OUT TO DINNER
Shortly after he went into “Oliver,” David had to have his tonsils removed. After the operation, he came to stay with me for recovery. He chose a bad time because we were moving house. However, like all good brothers, he lent a helping hand. When we got moved into our new house, we found that the electricity hadn’t been turned on, so David took us all to a restaurant for a meal. That was the first time he had taken us out for dinner, and you can imagine what we all looked like after moving house.
David went to America and was a big success in “Oliver!”. Then he went to “Pickwick.” One way or another, he saw a lot of America, and so did we, because he took endless videos of everywhere he went and sent them home to us. After finishing “Pickwick,” he phoned home and said he was due for a holiday and could we all go with him to Majorca. We said yes, of course, and that’s when he said, “Well, you have five days before we set off.” Fortunately, David’s agent, Hugh Alexander, was arranging tickets and hotel reservations; otherwise, I don’t think we could have been ready in time. As it was, on the day we were due to fly out, Dad ordered the taxi, and when it arrived, David hadn’t even started to get up.
We did get to Majorca and had a wonderful time. The hotel we stayed at had a swimming pool which closed at midnight. One night, David decided to have a late dip. He climbed over the pool fence and had a happy hour or so splashing around. The moment he decided he’d had enough was the moment the hotel porter and the local policeman decided to sit down by the pool fence for a chat. As they sat down, David threw his wet towel over the fence before climbing over himself. Of course, it had to land on the porter. Fortunately, they were very understanding and after a word or two, let David go to his suite.
As I said, young brothers are a worry.
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