My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyperformances in my father's early manhood, when he had a tiff with my grandfatheron some trivial matter and established himself in a local inn, the Dog and Partridge inTutbury. There he had apparently set out in some degree to emulate the record of aremote ancestor who was reputedly known as the Tutbury Tup. These events on hisown doorstep were regarded by my grandfather as an affront both to the proprietiesand to the local reputation of the family; hence the 'blackguard'.The adjective gloomy seemed even more inappropriate, for my father in myexperience was the very reverse; in fact, to a degree which caused considerableembarrassment. No doubt when upbraided by his father he had adopted a sulkydemeanour, as often occurs on such occasions in the young of all generations. Mygrandfather was no Puritan, but he felt strongly that affairs of this nature should beconducted with a remote discretion, far from the family home. He was himselfestranged at that time in a quite agreeable fashion from his wife, and seldom saw her.From her stylised portraits in youth, she appears as a large and beautiful doll, with anexaggeration of white, blue and gold colouring. She introduced the red-head strain tothe family, which appeared in my favourite Aunt Vi, emerged again in my nieceVeronica, daughter of my brother Ted, and finally in my youngest son, Max. Mygrandmother was rumoured to be of a frigid disposition, which did not suit mygrandfather at all; but his recompense was always conducted with the utmostdiscretion and dignity. He expected a similar reticence from all his family, and wastherefore outraged by my father's local bacchanalia.These differences sometimes took a strenuous form. In a quarrel during the earlymanhood of my father my grandfather ventured the opinion that he could knock himout with one hand tied behind his back. My father accepted the suggestion withalacrity; he was a slim young man of about five feet nine inches, but had himselfreached the semi-finals of the Amateur Boxing Association as a feather-weight. Hereckoned that he would stand quite a chance against a more accomplished middleweightin his early forties who had one hand out of action; in any case he wasincensed. They repaired to the sombre oak hall, announcing the sporting event to alland sundry, who duly assembled. At first my grandfather took considerablepunishment, but he tucked his chin into the protective left shoulder and bided his time.Eventually he saw his opening and knocked my father out with a single right to thejaw, to the warm applause of the assembled family and retainers. Poor Pa in theparlance of The Fancy was as cold as a mackerel.A more genial occasion of the same Corinthian character occurred when I was sixteenand my father thirty-eight, more appropriately in the happier atmosphere of theballroom. My father had some reports of my performance at Winchester where I hadbeen for some time entirely dedicated to boxing, and he wished to see for himself.Happily I was able to waltz round him almost as easily as I had waltzed on the samefloor with the local maids and matrons of the county. My legs were then in goodworking order and very practised; they kept me out of all trouble. His girth and wayof life had slowed him up considerably, and the long-trained straight left jerked hishead back frequently, to the evident pleasure of the same convivial company ofspectators in another generation. It was an embarrassing situation, and his ever morestrenuous efforts were clearly exhausting him. However, I managed to bring the affairto a laughing conclusion with a merry handshake before the debate had developed anyreal asperity.15 of 424