The World of Work Britain on Film

MUSIC

Millions of bombs fell on Britain during World War II.

They caused havoc, fire and death.

They left hundreds of thousands homeless.

But of all the bombs dropped, it was those that did not explode

that created the most difficult problems,

problems that still exist.

For even today, the war against the unexploded bomb

is still being fought daily by a handful of picked men

and this is a war not fought without casualties.

In three years, the Royal Navy's own bomb and mine disposal section

dealt with nearly 24,000 explosive objects

in the sea and on the foreshore of Britain and the Mediterranean.

Mines are still being washed up on the beaches

and it's the Navy's job to tackle them.

Corroded and barnacle encrusted from years in the sea,

they can be tricky jobs.

39-year-old Lieutenant Charles Lawrence MBE

from Tenby, South Wales, father of four children,

has been on this work for ten years.

With the fuse battery of the mine out,

he cuts the connecting leads then sets about removing the detonator.

Since their formation in 1940,

the bomb disposal unit of the Royal Engineers has lost 397 men.

All reports of suspected unexploded bombs on civilian property

that come into Horsham

are investigated by one of the bomb disposal unit's teams.

Pipes are sunk over the area

and electrical detectors are lowered into the ground.

If there is anything resembling a bomb down there,

it'll be detected.

When its position is fixed, the slow process of digging begins.

These teams, working under bomb disposal sergeants, are civilians,

many of them ex-prisoners of war.

Nearby houses are evacuated for the day.

The local police go from door to door

to make sure that everyone is out of the area.

Slowly, the bomb comes out from where it's lain since 1941.

It's taken these ten men seven months to unearth it,

at a cost of nearly £5,000.

As it is lowered, soon to be destroyed,

the bomb disposal unit have won another victory

in the war against the unexploded bomb,

a war that has earnt its men 12 George Medals

and countless other decorations.

Their gallantry is today commemorated by a centrepiece

presented to the mess of their Horsham headquarters,

a gallantry summed up in two words,

which tell the official story of their achievement -

rendered safe.

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Come on boy, look sharp!

Fall in on the end of the line.

Hurry up!

Drop your bag on the floor.

Drop your bag, lad!

Stand at ease, turn your feet off, in other words.

Right, now pay attention to me.

From now on, you will be known as a squad.

Hands out your pocket, you, for a start.

All right, we've got 12 weeks training ahead of us

and tomorrow we start.

I expect you to work hard, help me as much as you can, is that clear?

Work with him, he said, and he meant work.

Right, regimental questions! Pay attention the whole squad.

Right, what's the full title of the regiment, you?

Grenadier Guards, Sergeant.

-Full title of the regiment?

-I don't know, Sergeant.

Well, you should know by now.

Full title is the First All Grenadier Regiment of Foot Guards.

-Do you all understand?

-Aye!

Foot guards! We weren't up to much with our feet at first.

But after a few weeks, we began to look more like it.

By the right, quick march, left, right...

WHISTLING

MUSIC

My first job is always to take over from the day staff.

It really takes about a quarter of an hour

to hear what's been happening during the day.

When you start working on the wards,

your life becomes a succession of going on and off duty.

Once you get used to the routine, it's not too bad.

Nurses work much more reasonable hours now.

Here we work a 45-hour-week

and some hospitals don't do more than 44 hours.

On the wards, there are so many things to do -

Taking temperature, pulse and respiration,

giving out medicines, and, of course, making beds.

There are more than 1,100 beds in our hospital group

and about 800 nurses to make them.

And when you come off duty, there's always the chance

that somebody will be waiting for you in the nurses home.

Well, it's a nice place to wait and a girl must change.

And when we relax in our sitting room,

we don't talk shop, much more likely shopping!

And a nurse today has more money to shop with.

I get a training allowance of £6-a-week.

Though, about half of that is taken for board and lodging.

When I'm qualified, I shall get nearly £10-a-week.

Dave and Jean, are both from Aberdeen, by the way,

find they have few friends outside other police families.

On the credit side, they have this modern three-roomed flat rent and rate free,

security for Dave in his job, promotion prospects,

pension and a current take home wage packet of about £18-a-week.

Biggest drawback is the shift work, which makes family life difficult.

And shift work limits social life.

A PC's duties are many, helping kids cross the road.

There's a shortage of civilian crossing patrols, too.

If a PC is known to be near an incident,

he may be summoned by phone from HQ.

They see themselves, not solely as crime busters,

but as social engineers, helping us cope with the complex laws

and regulations of our society.

Home at a reasonable hour tonight,

but its back to late turn tomorrow, 10pm to 6am,

a sleep and breakfast at three in the afternoon.

Oh, well, that's a policeman's lot and a policeman's wife's lot, too.

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There are twice as many women as men

among London's 1,200 traffic wardens,

though outside London, it's the other way round.

Though there have been men wardens since 1960,

the women didn't come on the scene until four years later.

Most women wardens are married

with families who are old enough to be left.

There are fewer single girls,

but its rather a case of if the cap fits!

Many are attracted by the hours,

which can be made to fit in with home life.

They work early and late shifts alternate weeks.

Others go for the pay.

Men and women alike get about £16-a-week in central London

and about £15 in the suburbs.

Irene Harris is one of Britain's 5,000 traffic wardens.

She's one of the girls, who, in theory, no motorist loves,

though, more often than not, she's a motorist's wife or girlfriend.

BRASS BAND MUSIC

I passed my course all right, nearly two years ago

and I've been pounding the warden's beat ever since.

You might not believe it but we walk about ten miles a day.

Mind you, I like the life,

even though my poor feet do ache all the time.

Some things we have to do, like moving on a motorist

who's trying to park on a double yellow line.

I find women much easier than men to deal with.

I often think how different it is on my beat in Soho

when I'm off duty.

Sometimes I get a chance to see it

when we go up in our old car for a night out.

I've had a parking ticket in my time, before I was a warden.

PIANO MUSIC

I usually find a space to park

but it takes a lot of looking for before we can go off on a spree.

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There are less than 4,000 sweeps in the country,

which makes it a pretty exclusive calling.

Skilful and resilient,

the sweep adapts his technique to the demands of a modern age.

In the 19th century, small boys, or even girls,

were shoved up inside chimneys to clean them

and it took a public outcry to put an end to the practice.

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With a chimney of this sort,

the sweep cleans from outside and just as well.

He could get lost in this one!

With this type of chimney, a heavy ball is used

to weight the brush on its way down.

But it's useful too, to let the sweep's mate know he's ready.

Three quarters of them work on their own account.

So far as the big contract jobs are concerned,

the summer is the brisk time for the trade.

And in the summer,

it's more comfortable to be cleaning the chimney from outside

than the boiler flu inside.

Though this chap doesn't seem to mind.

Wearing a mask is a matter of personal choice.

Some do, some don't.

This is no sort of job for a man with claustrophobia!

Since 1950, more than 550 mills have been closed

and converted for all sorts of light industries.

Operatives have been taught new skills,

which has often led to a new way of life.

The biggest group of converted mills includes one at Lee,

where wiring systems for motor cars are made.

They are assembled by girls who, yesterday,

would have worked in a cotton mill,

but have proved that Lancashire skill and craftsmanship

are quickly adaptable.

Most of the mills which still produce cotton

have brought their equipment and conditions of work up-to-date,

like this 100-year-old mill at Hythe,

just over the Cheshire border,

which used to employ about 3,000 operatives

and today, with vastly increased production,

still needs 2,400 to keep the modern machines running.

Many of the workers and their families

have been with this mill for generations.

Like Eleanor Pleasance,

who's worked in the carding room for more than 50 years.

With her family, she's given the mill over 350 years of service.

Today, many of the operatives come from far-away places

such as Pakistan and Italy.

Here, in this light airy spinning room, each machine is equipped

with a monster vacuum cleaner designed to pick up the cotton dust

before it's had time to settle and become a menace to health.

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More mechanisation means more safety precautions to be enforced.

The first factory inspectors were appointed more than 100 years ago,

in the days when child labour was a scandal.

Today, there are nearly 500 factory inspectors in Britain

and one of their main jobs

is to see that safety regulations are observed.

On visits to factories, the inspector ensures that safety guards

are being used properly and are in working order.

Here, he tests the guard on a hydraulic press

to make sure the machine won't operate

unless the guard is in position.

There can be risks too in the laundry,

where many of the machines are hand operated.

This ironing machine should stop if a hand touches the safety guard

and there must be no space in which fingers can get caught.

The first woman inspector was appointed more than 72 years ago.

Today, there are 56 of them.

The mechanical presser is made so that it will not start up

unless two buttons are pressed at the same time.

But even with safety devices, accidents can happen

and trainees get advice from the inspector on how to avoid them.

All the time, top priority is safety and more safety

while the men put on their protective clothing.

It's all rather like the old ammunition factories,

where a man takes 999 extra precautions to make sure

he doesn't come undone on the one chance in a thousand or a million.

And in this case, he needs a lifeline.

Armed with a light and an air pipe,

he goes right down into one of the boilers

and carries out an inspection when the flow is turned off.

The water and the steam have, anyway, never been in touch

with anything from the reactor, and are perfectly safe.

The gas which goes round in a cycle of its own, could be radioactive,

so although it's never likely to reach him, the man is protected.

When he has finished his stint,

he gets out of the gear, he limbers up,

he takes a shower to make sure that no dust has settled on him.

He gives his hands a special test.

MUSIC

In cells with massive concrete walls, five foot six inches thick,

heavily radiated materials are checked by mechanical hands.

But the checking instruments that go into these cells

must later be decontaminated or cleaned.

And for this job, an operator gets into a pressurised suit.

The air is continually pumped in under pressure

and escapes through a vent in the suit

as he moves into the contaminated area.

The heavily radiated materials

are removed from the cells mechanically.

Then, the contaminated testing equipment

is brought through to the cleaning bay.

The compressed air escaping from the operator's suit,

prevents any of the radioactive dust from getting in.

5,000 people work in this building.

If they all arrived at once, it would mean chaos,

so staff arrivals are staggered.

Some start at 8.40am and others at 9.05am.

In the big company world of the day,

you can measure the corridors in miles...

..and the office lighting in lumens,

to give just the right amount without glare at desk level,

as here, in the typing pool,

where mechanisation has moved in with the girls.

The whole building is also linked for mail deliveries.

There's an automatic despatch system with receiving points

on all floors linked to the post room.

You address the container by dialling a combination,

a code of letters and numbers,

and away it goes on compressed air to any one of 44 stations

serving hundreds of offices.

In the computer room, the robots are busy on company accounts,

tax returns, sales figures

and the rest of the complex arithmetic of a vast concern.

They are also wages clerks, working out salaries and wages,

deductions and take home pay and they don't make mistakes!

And here's something for the "Hello" girls,

a telephone exchange with a difference.

250 lines, 4,500 extensions and not a cord insight.

It's one of the most up-to-date in the world

where the girls tap in keys to put you through.

For the 19 operators,

15-minute breaks every two to two and a half hours

and a rest room where the only numbers are pretty ones!

They've got their own help-yourself restaurants,

serving three-course lunches free on the firm!

And what better in the lunch hour

than to see what your artistic friends on the staff

have been up to in their spare time.

Or to take a dip in the office pool.

Wendy is a member of the staff swimming club

and uses the pool often.

It's built to international standards

and has a spectators gallery and electronic race timing equipment.

And after work?

In the evening, another part of this office with a difference

comes to life.

The recreation area.

It's all part of a plan, encouraged by the local authority,

to make sure the neighbourhood

doesn't become just a dead place after office hours.

Here, you'll find nearly every sport in the book

and it all helps, of course, to keep a healthy, efficient staff.

MUSIC

It's always late in the afternoon that three young matadors

go into the arena to kill two bulls each.

Theirs is a profession with the highest death rate in the world

and some of the richest rewards.

CHEERING

A profession that only the Spanish temperament can master.

At least that's what Spaniards said

before a young Englishman named Vincent Hitchcock came on the scene.

After four years, he retired to a farm in Kent,

where he now lives with his wife, Jacqueline,

and their three small daughters.

He'd killed 180 bulls at nearly 80 bull fights.

Twice, he was almost fatally gored.

He'd been earning 15,000 a year.

But as Jacqueline gave his matador's jacket an occasional airing,

she wondered how long her husband would resist

the call of the bull ring.

Now, today, at 31, Hitchcock is determined to make a comeback.

It all began with a letter from his manager in Madrid.

"Prove that you can face a bull again", said his manager,

"and fat contracts are waiting."

Back in Madrid, El Ingles now has to face his tienta.

And often, a fighting cow can be more dangerous than a bull,

for she's usually been fought before,

while the bull first sees the torero's cape in the bull ring.

Under the eyes of the head cowboy,

two cows and steers are herded into the corral.

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A nine-year-old, this spitting vicious little beast

has obviously been fought before.

Notice how she hooks.

She's after the man and not the cape, and Hitchcock knows it.

He's too slow! He's caught and half tossed!

Nothing serious though, just torn trousers.

Everything is ready.

The crowds flock to the bullring.

The three matadors lead in their teams of six men.

Behind come the mules, which will drag the dead bulls from the arena.

In comes the first bull,

knowing, perhaps subconsciously,

that he's going to fight for his life, but can't win.

As the toreros play the bull, Hitchcock weighs up his tactics.

And now, his time has come.

Out he goes into the arena.

For Hitchcock the Englishman, this is his moment of truth!

MUSIC

But perhaps the most exciting job is riding the Wall of Death.

Here at Southend, 55-year-old Tornado Smith

is ready for his day's work.

He's in the super-tax class.

His two assistants, 22-year-old ex-shop assistant Irene Taplin

and 24-year-old ex-telephonist Yvonne Stag,

get their machines going for a warming up session.

First, it's the two girls on the back and front

of Tornado Smith's bike.

Perfect balance is essential.

Yes, it needs tremendous concentration,

split-second timing

and a highly critical control of speed to keep these bikes going.

It's sheer skill,

learnt the hard way from hours and hours of practice.

MUSIC

Round and round they go, turning, twisting.

Never time for second thoughts.

Well, there's a lot to be said for exciting jobs,

providing, of course, that you never get bored with the thrills.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd