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Jack Hill was raised on The Gables Farm, Desford, won a scholarship to Market Bosworth Grammar School, moved to Leicester and started his first job there at the National Provincial Bank.
The first twelve months of this prestigious career were good fun as I was assigned to Belgrave Road branch with Mr Trenbath as my accountant. (Branches were two-man affairs.) All entries in the huge ledgers had to be written in legible ink with the titles in copper plate lettering so this took a while to learn. The paper of the ledgers was very thick and stiff so one could easily cut a finger when turning the page.
Banks closed promptly at 3 pm and usually all adding up and final figures had been worked out in pencil waiting for the fateful moment of closing the doors. Then a quick translation into ink and away. Imagine the annoyance when someone had the nerve to turn up at closing time.
My bicycle was stored in the back room.
Ledger entries were also transferred to a vellum bound statement book, which every customer received and returned periodically for updating. The bank charges were also entered twice yearly and that was another experience: to sit alongside the accountants and a small team from Granby Street to determine the charges.
Lunchtime meant getting organised and me going to the local British Restaurant for cooked food. This was carried in hay box with a door to keep the heat in. Mr Trenbath used to eat first and I was given the job of running the bank whilst he was in the back room. This involved taking money and cheques from customers. This was quite a thrill for a chap just turned 16. I also had a duplicate set of the keys to the bank and the safes, and getting money out of the safes was quite a palaver.
However, the main delight was the thought of being able to escape from work at 10 minutes past three-o'clock and then be free for the rest of the day.
I often cycled over to Bradgate Park and sometimes returned via Thornton where I would call to see my mother's brother and his wife. Uncle Bill and Aunt Ada.
By this time I had been able to buy drop handlebars for the bike and so could get along quite quickly.
This idyllic period ended when I was transferred to Evington road branch with Mr Burrows. He was a jolly chap who loved playing golf and also enjoyed getting away early for his golf course was only a few miles away.
Cycling distance was slightly longer for me but the branch was on the wrong side of the town and so my routine became altered and I tended to venture further out towards the east.
The journey to the branch involved cycling past the hospital and the gaol and through De Montfort Hall Park. This branch had a large intake of banknotes due to the account held by the BUSM British United Shoe Manufacturing Company. This money had to be counted and recounted and then packed into a parcel referred to as an HVP. {high value parcel]. This was arranged to fit into a small suitcase with a chain that passed up the sleeve, and was then attached to a belt around the waist. Such a parcel contained several thousand pounds worth of notes and to get it down to the principal office we two personnel were supposed to hire a car and be driven there.
However my bike was the problem, so it was agreed that the parcel would happily fit into my saddlebag, and I would ride to the main office or almost, and then Mr Burrows would arrive on the bus and transfer the parcel to the suitcase which he would then carry through the doors of the bank.
I trailed along with my bike, chaining it up outside. This worked fine and it meant that I didn't have to go back to the bank for the bike. Can't think what would have happened if the money had been stolen from me in transit.
This branch didn't have access to a restaurant, and so meals were cold sandwiches in the back room or behind the high desk at the rear.
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