Once a year E K Cole would come down and throw us a Christmas part, and I used to look forward to that. I think that is where I got my first taste of wine! Another person I remember with affection was the company Patent Officer. He was a dedicated servant of the company and E K Cole personally.
The department liked to put on a display at the Physical Society every year, which I looked forward to. One year I took the Strobograph there to demonstrate how to record high-speed waveforms on paper with a ball pen. I thought it was really novel until someone came by and said, "that reminds me of the old … machine". I couldn't believe it so I did some research and found someone with the same name as Southend's chief engineer (Callender?) had made a machine for recording power supply waveforms in about 1910. So I called him up and said do you know anything about this? He told me that was his father, and as a child the machine had occupied a place of honour in their drawing room. What a coincidence! What's worse I found a reference to an earlier machine in Paris called the "Ondograph" and I got the Museum D'Arts et Metiers to send me a photo. At that time I read: "the origin of the method is lost in the mists of antiquity"!
Another time I had a wonderful adventure when I was asked by our Ministry liaison officer to conduct an airborne trial of the radar. That man was a wonderful character (I called him the gravel-throated comedian) and I was told there was an occasion when he thought he needed a radar corner reflector and tried to filch one from the airstrip, but the control tower saw their marker moving and sent security after him!
Anyway, he took me to this RAF base near Malvern where they prepped me for a flight in the back seat of a Meteor jet. I had never flown at all before. The pilot was a somewhat irascible man who didn't think much of chauffeuring scientists. We zoomed off and joined the target plane and started the trial. I didn't like the performance of my radar and asked him if we were bearing on. I couldn't see forward through his head and I knew he didn't like bearing straight on due to the buffeting. "Of course I am" he roared and slumped right down in his seat so I could see. "Oh well, let's make another run at it" I responded lamely, but instead of throttling back as I expected he dipped one wing down and did a tight 360 turn leaving me impaled on my visor. When we were done he relented and said we had plenty of fuel and where should we go? I opted to buzz Cowbridge House, and that is what we did.
I wish I could remember more names and describe them all to you. Of course there was the robust and reliable Ron Beaven and the flauntingly flatulent Cyril Drew. Another engineer was a tall and slim caricature of an Englishman who smoked a pipe all the time. I didn't mind that except that he would clean his pipe with the compressed air line and make a terrible stink. I posted a note saying: "You are not welcome to blow out your pipe on this airline", which he shortly annotated with a brown tobacco stain. I thought that was pretty funny. There was a delightful north countryman who unhappily came to an early demise, and there was the charmingly mannered public school type by the name of Stanley-Jones who I heard also found a sad end.
Well I made up a resume describing the patents, published papers and prizes I got at Ekco to offset my lack of education in degree-crazy America, and it got me into a few places where I would have been shut out. None were as memorable as Malmesbury.
Raymond Reeves 2006