This oral history captures a vivid snapshot of British life from the 1940s through the 1960s, told through my conversations with my Aunt Chrissie about her parents, Thomas Augustine Miles and Helen Gladys Reygate known as Rae. Their story begins dramatically in London, where Thomas and Helen—unaware she was pregnant—welcomed a daughter born four weeks premature, weighing only four pounds. In those days before modern neonatal care, that was a dangerously low birth weight. When doctors advised them to leave polluted London for their daughter’s health, they made the significant decision to relocate to the Isle of Wight, where Helen’s sister lived.
That move was a turning point that shaped their lives forever. They initially rented a small house before acquiring Rose Court Hotel in Sandown. The hotel soon became central to their world, with the whole family involved—Thomas waiting tables, Helen cooking, and their children helping in the dining room and bedrooms. As the hotel operated seasonally, most of its income was generated between May and September. Careful financial planning was essential—whatever they earned in the summer had to sustain them through the winter.
Chrissie’s recollections offer fascinating insights into post-war British holiday culture. Their guests were mostly working-class families from industrial areas like the Potteries, visiting during annual factory closures. These weren’t the package holidays to Spain that would later dominate British tourism—back then, a trip to the Isle of Wight, involving a train journey and ferry crossing, felt exotic for many working families from the Midlands. The hotel built strong relationships with regular guests, even ensuring their preferred newspapers were waiting for them upon arrival.
Life revolved around simple pleasures. The local Catholic church was both a religious and social hub, hosting whist drives, dances, and other gatherings. Cinema outings were hugely popular in an era before television, with films changing frequently enough that locals could visit multiple times a week. Managing resources carefully was a necessity—worn bedsheets were cut and resewn to extend their use, and nothing was discarded if it could be mended.
Later in life, Thomas and Helen moved to Steyning, West Sussex, purchasing a derelict house for around £4,000-£5,000 in 1969. Thomas, who had worked in construction, put his carpentry skills to good use renovating the property. He also worked as a steward at a Foreign Office estate, managing the bar despite being teetotal himself. Helen, meanwhile, volunteered for the hospital car service, reflecting their continued commitment to community life even in retirement.
Talking with Chrissie also brought up stark reminders of healthcare before the NHS. She recalled waiting in long charity clinic queues, where doctors saw patients on a charitable basis until time ran out. When she needed treatment, her parents had to trek to clinics, hoping she’d be seen before the doctor finished for the day. It’s a striking contrast to universal healthcare, which would later transform life for families like hers.
Some of the most touching moments are the insights into Thomas and Helen’s relationship. While Helen was the strong organiser, Thomas was the quiet pillar of wisdom. One memory stands out—Chrissie once found them having a cuddle, her mother saying she “still laughed at his jokes.” Another speaks to Thomas’s gentle encouragement—when Chrissie doubted whether she should complete her nursing training, he reassured her, telling her that the qualification would serve her for life rather than forcing the decision upon her.
These recollections paint a rich portrait of post-war British family life—from economic struggles and the rhythm of tourism to simple entertainments and the adaptability required to keep moving forward. They remind me how much Britain has changed, but also how enduring family support and resilience have always been.
Longtime Ago people 
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