Extracts From The Book
Prof. Aubrey Newman
Leicester Jewish Voices forms an informal sociological record and we are grateful to Professor Aubrey Newman for his introduction to our book who said:
Prof. Aubrey Newman
We lived on St Albans Road, just opposite the Victoria Park gates. There was Marks the fruit and vegetable shop, a few yards away was Nicols the butcher. A little further down came Highfield Street where you would find Zimbler's the delicatessen, with barrels of shmaltz herrings and pickled cucumbers, chopped herring, smoked roe, smoked salmon, wursht, viennas, cheese cake, plava, apple strudel, kichels, challah, rye bread, rolls and of course beigels. It is a mouth-watering memory!
Challah – Plaited loaf traditionally eaten on Friday evening
Business and Professions
Grandma Bessie and Auntie Alice were dressmakers and refugees from Riga, speaking mostly Yiddish. Their workshop was a converted front room in the old Victorian house that we all shared. Their garments were finished with intricate patterns of beautiful hand-made embroidery, sequins and beads. The hours of work that must have gone into those exquisite tailored clothes is extraordinary. Auntie Alice would often sit, hand-sewing in the late evening by the glowing coal fire in the middle room in order to get a garment finished on time, while the smell of freshly baked cheesecake wafted from the scullery.
The Book Launch
In Germany my mother said we were like drowning rats with nowhere to go. My parents put me on a train to Holland. 'Don't worry,' said my father. 'I'm going to make coffee for the returning Jews.' Then they came for my mother and father and they never did return
Reverend Eugene Teichmann, my abiding memory of this saintly man was the quiet conversation he once had with my mother whilst we waited in line at the butcher shop, Nicols, in about 1953. He too had once stood in line and he told her about his wartime experiences in a concentration camp. He had come within two minutes of being gassed. It was eyewitness testimony of a scene from the greatest act of sustained wickedness in all recorded history, and the most horrific personal story I have ever heard.
Tichbourne Street was 'our house'. We lived there free from adults just for the evening. Attending Maccabi reinforced my membership of a religious and culturally linked community but I would not have realised that at the time. We formed committees and organised programmes with debates, speakers, committee meetings and chances to snog in the top table tennis room.
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