Rooke Lane 1959-1964
On 17th April 1959, one day after my 18th birthday, my father applied for me to attend an interview with Rooke Lane & Co after I completed my schooling..
I had missed automatic conscription into the army by 18 months, thank goodness.
I must have passed the interview as we signed five year articles in November 1959. For those interested in what I put my signature to – the first thing I suppose I ever signed as an adult then find it below. The actual agreement was between the firm and my father, not me!
I started work with them in 2 Norfolk Street, up from Temple Station, and next to the Aldwych in London, at the princely sum of £4 per week and with a promised pay rise of not less than 10 shillings a week every year. So five years later, in November 1964, I would be earning £8 10 shillings a week. Until then my hours were 9.00 a.m. until 5.30 p.m., with one hour allowed for lunch and 2 weeks holiday a year. I have the paperwork!
perhaps I should have gone to University after all!
Initially I was living with my parents at 1a Kent Gardens, Ealing – a lovely garden flat in a number of huge Georgian buildings my dad’s company owned. My relatives, the Bussicott family, lived next door (as did Dusty Springfield who sometimes used to share a bus with me down to Ealing Broadway station in the morning – eye shadow as well).
However I soon left home and sought my fortune in a succession of flats in London, finishing at 58 Denbigh Street in Victoria. For the last few years with a great friend, Dennis Cross, who had joined Rooke Lane from University and had been the year above me at Bishopshalt. Some great nights out with Dennis in London in the 1960’s. some of which I only have vague memories, like so many of the young people in that time of The Beatles etc etc.
Life in Accountancy was boring and I didn’t take it seriously. I was articled to George White who was great, but I was obviously reported to the head partner, Mr Matthews, as one day about six weeks after I joined, he had me in to say “Henderson, we don’t really think you’re cut out, or interested, in being an Accountant.”
Bit of a shock, and I couldn’t let my parents down, so I promised to try harder. But it wasn’t long before I was back in his office saying I couldn’t live on £4 a week. He then gave me a lecture on the fact that his father had paid for him to be articled for five years, so think myself lucky.
At that stage I started to be an illegal mini-cab driver (using my Morris Minor) in the evenings and week-ends, to enable me to live (in truth my father helped out as well). Statute of Limitations must surely mean I can’t be prosecuted for what I did in the 1960’s. Uninsured of course, and I kept away from taxi drivers. Some interesting stories and adventures doing that, certainly a lot more exciting than accountancy.
I actually quite enjoyed the job with Rooke Lane, as I was put in charge of audits after a couple of years and moved around London auditing various companies, large and small. A two week stint in Bradford and later a stay in Carlisle came as a rude awakening. I’d been to Spain a few times with my family but never north of London. Honest. I found accents different and wasn’t sure whether to be angry or happy when I was told I had a London accent. I admit I judged ‘The North’ on those two experiences, which was unfair, and later lived in Cheshire very happily for ten years many years later, before retreating south again.
Back to work. I served my five years, and actually went through the Intermediate and Final Chartered Accountancy exams and just to prove it – my Mum had them both framed – here they are.
This meant I could put FCA after my name
FCA Certificate
– until I resigned from the institute some years later!
At the end of five years hard slog with Rooke Lane they offered to pay me £22.00 a week! Bloody nerve. On principle I resigned and here is the draft of my reply and their confirmation. I took some small pleasure in giving a month’s notice resigning a month before my articles expired.
They got their pound of flesh. I got a professional qualification.
Now what?
Resigning was a brave, or foolish, move as I didn’t know if I’d passed my exams. I had no problem finding work as a temporary accountant through an agency while waiting for my results, while looking for a permanent position abroad.
My time in London was great but I had the travel gene, and wanted to get away from England.
I was offered a position with the biggest firm at the time, Price Waterhouse, subject to qualifying. At that time you could more or less choose where you went. They gave me a list of vacancies.
I opted for P.W. in Barcelona. A decision which started my love affair with Spain.
There was another incident a couple of years later as I must have popped into the office a month after my father died in March 1966 to see my old partner, George White (who I was articled to). The next day I had a job offer
which I soon turned down
