“God gave me life so I’m going to use it” is how Vera Keech explains her get up and go attitude.
Being born in Swan Lane Buildings – her Mum from Rotherhithe and her lighterman Dad from Wapping – it is no surprise that the river runs through her life.
Brothers Sid and Ted followed their father onto the Thames, although Sid decided to drive lorries after falling in the Surrey Docks and realising a life on the water was not for him. A son and two grandsons became lightermen, and “all the uncles and cousins became lightermen,” Vera says with pride.
When war began, Vera was evacuated to an Uncle’s in Hertfordshire. On her return she went to Albion Street School followed by Credon Road School where, she recalls, “my mum thought it was too far to go so she put me in St Mary’s, which was nearer.”
Vera recalls tap dancing on the dustbins as a child “’cause the metal lids made the right noise.” She joined Dolly Cooper’s Super Kids dance troupe “but because my Mum couldn’t afford tap shoes for the dance class my brother screwed Blakeys shoe protectors on the bottom of my school shoes and I used to share ‘em with Max Bygraves’ sister Maureen ‘cause she didn’t have any tap shoes, either!”
Vera liked school. “I had a really good crafts teacher and I used to love doing sewing.” This was good practice for when her mum found her a job as a Court Dressmaker. “It was right up my alley,” she says. “It was doing the embroidery and fancy stitching on dresses… But it only paid ten-bob a week and Mum said ‘that ain’t enough.’”
A cousin’s wife stepped in with a job as a punch card operator. “We did all the dockworkers’ wages for 50-bob a week so Mum had £2 and I had the ten bob.” But keeping just a fifth of her wages was not enough for this teenager. “Me dad was good, he’d always give me half-a-crown for a new pair of stockings or anything that I needed.”
But alas, Vera was sacked for “being cheeky.” She laughs at how she told a colleague to “shut up” and the boss reckoned Vera was “too lippy.” Luckily, a friend knew of vacancies at Monk & Glass, so she started there and told her mum that she changed jobs for more money.
Being a skilled worker meant Vera stayed employed. She listed other jobs from the LEB to IBM, adding “I never got the sack again but every time I moved I got more money.”
For fun, Vera and her friend would venture out to the Savoy Club in Catford. “We went dancing on Friday and Saturday to see if we could meet a bloke to take us out for the rest of the week ‘cause we had no money.” She giggled before continuing: “then dump him the next week!”
Vera met her husband Pat Keech in Catford, although he lived in the next block on the Dickens Estate where the family moved to for more space. The courting couple would go “to the pictures and dancing, and nights out in the Concorde and the Lilliput”, but Vera added: “I wasn’t big on pubs because my father was an old drunk, so I didn’t drink a lot.”
When they married, Vera began working part-time but left when her first son Timmy arrived, doing just an office-cleaning job at Baldwin’s, the Bermondsey solicitors. Eventually after Terry was born, Vera returned to computing in Peek Frean’s for nine years. Then 28 years at Midland Bank took her to retirement, but that didn’t last long because her skills were always required. ‘Retiring’ actually turned into ten years at a nursing agency where she would also do a few shifts as a carer. Meanwhile, her family grew up.
Being a lightermen means you can enter the legendary Thames boat race – The Doggett’s Coat and Badge. Vera’s son Timmy came second twice and her two grandsons, Jack and Patrick, both came first in successive years, putting the Keech name in the annals of the oldest boat race in the world.
As well as the Thames, care work has also been a big part of Vera’s life since she first looked after her Down’s Syndrome brother-in-law. Invited to help the church with their annual trip to Lourdes with disabled children in 1976, she has taken children every year. Lourdes became so important for the family that when her husband died, Rotherhithe funeral director Barry Albin helped Vera fulfil Pat’s wish to have his ashes scattered there.
With Pat gone, being alone in her flat was unbearable, so Vera flew to Sri Lanka to do volunteer work. She lived in a convent with Catholic nuns and kept in touch with family by phone. After some months a granddaughter asked Vera to return for Christmas, which she did, narrowly missing the tsunami that flooded the town.
Care work brought about Vera starting the Southwark Helping Hands Club on Silwood Estate. When Silwood was redeveloped the club moved to Paradise Street, then Dockhead. From there to Wade Hall until that got renovated. At this point, Vera had nowhere to go. “I got in my car and drove round,” she says, “and I saw a sign in old Peek Frean’s saying Community Hall, so I went in.” The developers Grosvenor Estates gave Vera the hall rent-free. The club is now in the former Scott Lidgett School.
Vera keeps retiring but never stops working. She plans to live as long as she can while still doing everything she does now. “That gift of life that God gave me, I’m gonna wear it out right ‘til the end.”
This article is brought to you by our sister publication The Bermondsey Biscuit and Rotherhithe Docks