(L) Oswald John Thorne - After The Police. | Thorne, Oswald John, 471, Constable, Sergeant, Inspector

Retirement.

In 1976 regulations were made by Parliament allowing ex-servicemen to count some of their Military Service towards that served in the Police Service, so I applied. Two and a half years Military service counted, as about a year in the Police Force. I took advantage of this. My normal retirement date should have been November 1978, instead I left in February 1977. With this generosity at least the country showed they appreciated us risking our lives for five and a half years during the war. Before saying goodbye to my blue uniform the lads gave me a good retirement party at North Watford, attended by the whole Traffic Division Personnel, past and present and many others from the County and outside who I had worked with over the years. This ended a very eventful period of thirty eight years in uniform, (Khaki and Blue), in fact, the main part of my working life.

However, I didn’t move very far as advise given by numerous old colleagues suggested I made a gradual break. So, it was very convenient to move into, and in charge of, the Administrative Office next door to my old one, where my superiors were keen to avail themselves of my previous experience for at least a year. Towards the end of that period I made several applications for vacancies connected to road transport but soon found that private firms were thankful enough to make use of my experience, but not to pay for it. One said my income would be quite good if I counted my Police Pension. I told them that I didn’t get my neck wet for thirty years to subsidise them.

Oswald Thorne’s Certificate of Police Service.

Working for Dacorum District Council.

My last interview was with Dacorum District Council for the position of Highway Enforcement Officer, this position would give me a small Department of my own with six personnel. The work included dealing with accident claims against the Council for Highway or other defects, prosecuting builders for offending against the Highways Acts. Most tasks were to deal with law that was not unlike what I had dealt with in the Police Force. Although the job was in no way as challenging or demanding as before, at least it would take me up to the full retirement age of sixty five, then I would qualify for three pensions that would make my later life at least comfortable. Once I proved to my superiors at Dacorum District Council I was capable of running the Department for the next nine years they left me alone, in fact, completely alone.

Soon after starting with the District Council they directed me to attend a Course at St. Albans College, this covered Highway Inspections, Defects, Insurance Claims, Road Construction and Repair, a very suitable Course to follow the various tasks undertaken while in Police Traffic Management. When first attending the Course and seeing all the young men it made me feel the Grandfather at fifty five years old. Tests were held every month to establish how I was progressing, as expected at first my position was just about bottom, however, during the following months my position gradually improved until I was at the top of the class, my final results – passed top with distinction. There must still be some life in the old dog yet!

History Repeating Itself.

Later in the spring of 1979 Ruth complained at times of being tired, at first I thought that it was due to the extra stress of her work as she was, by then, in charge of half of Hertfordshire. Although being a Nurse she did not examine herself very much, certainly not as much as Doctors suggest women should do, especially remembering the cause of Maria’s death. Maybe Ruth kept the condition from me until I found the lump myself. She immediately saw her Doctor who also suggested it was a cyst, so it was left for a vital six months. How history repeats itself. During that time she continued to be tired, I think I was more worried than Ruth, no doubt due to going through the same trauma a few years before. The saying “Lightning doesn’t strike twice” was not correct in this case, looking back over the years I’m afraid I’ve come to the conclusion that one’s life is mapped out. Meeting Maria in the first place, then among the millions moving about Europe at the end of the War that we should meet again about eight months later. She comes to England and within months is involved in a very serious accident resulting in critical injuries, years later she dies from breast cancer followed by bone cancer. With Ruth she almost died from a broken neck as a result of the accident in Austria, about six years later she is diagnosed with breast cancer and bone cancer, so what are her chances? A bookmaker might give odds of 1,000 to 1 for similar events to occur.

Ruth visited University College Hospital in London for examination, driving home afterwards was probably one of the worst journeys I lived through, taking her back the following Monday was just as bad, especially at the end of it to be told she must have her left breast removed followed by a lengthy period of radiotherapy. Leaving her in hospital that night was even worse than when I left Maria. I didn’t quite know what to expect with Maria but procedure with Ruth was identical. She returned after about a fortnight, staying home for a week then back for a month and then home for weekends. Travelling to London and back became automatic except the journeys to see Ruth were a little shorter than travelling to the Royal Marsden Hospital. How I managed to drive through the rush hour each day without being involved in an accident myself I will never know. Maybe it was luck or down to the good Police driving instruction but my mind was continuously in a whirl, if not a problem about work it was then about Ruth. Oh, my poor stomach just could not cope with the tension. After Ruth’s return home she had to visit and stay at a Home in Essex where radiotherapy continued, visits to see her were cut down to weekends as the distance to travel was too great. On returnin, home she tried to relax for a period before she returned to work. She struggled on for about six months until it was necessary to return to the Hospital for another operation, this time to have a gland removed from under her armpit so we were back to the old routine of travelling to the Hospital most evenings, I sometimes had a rest on Saturday when some relative or friend would visit. As with Maria, radiotherapy caused her to feel sick most days and continued until the treatment ended.

This routine continued for another two years, in and out of hospital for more parts of her body to be removed, but by autumn 1982 she had had enough. Clutching at straws she asked me to take her to the Bristol Clinic where she received treatment that was entirely different, mainly relying upon all natural foods, including drinking gallons of carrot juice, as well as some mental therapy. It was a good thing there was a new Motorway to Bristol as once a week early in the morning we would set off driving West. Previously, if we had undertaken a long journey Ruth and I would have shared the driving, but her condition had worsened, the cancer had spread to her bones so she could only walk with the aid of a stick. Towards the end of 1982 she was in great pain, the only way to relieve it was to give her a coffee enema, the cancer had continued to effect most of her body and she could only move with the aid of elbow crutches. How similar the progression of the spread was to Maria’s. The only consolation I had was a little less fear of the unknown, not knowing with Maria affected me more mentally, but being ten years older it was affecting me more physically, my stomach was always in turmoil as I continually held myself in.

Losing Ruth.

Christmas 1982 was a very quiet one, but most of the family visited so I managed to keep going, how January 1983 was spent is beyond my memory, but unknown to me, Ruth had telephoned the UCH Hospital asking them to take her back in. She told me she wanted to go in so it would give me a rest, she thought I was looking tired. Although I was not sure there appeared to be some collusion between her and a doctor who knew her when she was SNO in the Health Service, plus the UCH was the Hospital where her Nurse Training started. Back to the Hospital I took her in mid January the same old journeys to visit her began again, but it was not many days before I realised that she would not be returning home, in less than a week she was unable to recognise me, during the night of 6th February the Hospital telephoned me, it was all over. So another person I had loved very much took the journey to Garston Crematorium.

Once again I was alone without a partner, however my job with the Highways Department kept me occupied, I even took on an allotment to ensure my mind was on other things. My mother still resided at Garston Lane, so we still met up at North Watford Church on Sunday mornings, some days she provided young John and I with a meal to save me going home and starting cooking after the morning service. My usual tasks at Church continued, Senior Communion Steward duties kept me fairly busy a few Sundays a quarter, in addition Side Steward’s duties took up another morning each month, plus any other duties that came along.

Dorothy and Eric Simpson were also Communion Stewards and helped out as did other members. Eric died suddenly, that left Dorothy performing her duties alone. She had no transport to enable her to get to Church, so after a while I arranged the duties so that we did those together. As my journey to north Watford and back almost passed her door in Kingswood Road it was convenient for me to provide her with a lift and so a third part of my life started, followed by my marriage to Dorothy on the 12th November 1984.

This period concluded my working life but my own health had been so affected by a continuous stressful life that I was now about to pay for it by undergoing four major operations in as many years. The number of journeys to Hospitals to visit either of my previous wives, then for my health, were uncountable. I started visiting St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in 1959 for what they described as an irritable bowel but then discovered that my pituitary gland was enlarged but not malignant. I still suffer from this and, at times it gets out of control.

I realise some events you may think of as importance have not been included but not intentionally, because at sometime I must end this story. The weddings of my two daughters, Irene and Noreen and my son, Tony were happy events, also the births of their children. After three marriages my family continues to grow, now having reached a total of ten grandchildren.

I began this book at the request of my children who thought my life had been too interesting not to record. Having read it for yourself I hope that you are of a similar opinion. If I had my life to live over again would I make the same choices? Yes I believe that I couldn’t have chosen another career that would have been as exciting and as fulfilling as that of the Police force.