#019 Training in Wales

Easter 1944 soon came along, and training runs to Wales. We set off Good Friday morning going our usual way via Shardlow, Aston, Weston and Wellington and so on to the A38 where we had arranged to meet Gerry Beechinor. He arrived very late, the reason he gave us was that he had been fitting a home made “Oss” type 3 speed gear, the operating lever was fitted to the RH seat stay. Why he had to fit this gear when we were all on “fixed” we’ll never know. He had to “fix” it one gear anyway because every time he changed gear the chain derailed. The other members of this group were Bas Butler and Kenny Redgate. We had dinner at Wellington, on examining my bike I found the locking nut on my front brake had shaken off. The nearest “bike shop” was Ernie Clements at Donnington in Shropshire only two miles away. Ernie served us himself, the shop then was only a “front room affair,” he had trouble, but he did find a nut for this then modern “Ambra Superga” brake.

We carried on along the A5 passing through Shrewsbury, then on the Welshpool road, still no sign posts, and we had to be good map-readers. Just before you cross the river Severn, about a mile from Welshpool we turned left, then up the hill to Long Mynd, we were due to stop at the Welsh Harp Youth Hostel, unfortunately they could only put “Bas” and Ken up. Gerry and I did a dive downhill in to Welshpool. The road crosses many diagonal roads and when you hit one of these roads you were thrown off your seat almost touching weak parts on your handlebar stem, still with only one brake you did not stand much chance. We managed to get bed & breakfast at a Temperance Hotel. My brother Ernie had given me an ex-Royal Navy belt when he was last on leave and I was wearing it, the woman proprietor of the hotel thought I was on leave from the Navy and with this in mind we had the best food imaginable. This hotel is the now fashionable Royal Oak Hotel near the traffic lights in Welshpool. We met the other two the next morning, just by luck, as we (Gerry & I) were in the act if buying a bottle of milk from the Co-op horse and cart.

We set off towards Llanfair Caereinion, the railway started in the middle of town then, we stopped at Dinas- Mawddwy for lunch, somebody there tried to tempt us up the Bwlch-y-groes pass - good job we did not try it,. the other road is bad enough up to Cross Foxes. It was snowing and misty on top of the pass, when out of the gloom appeared a load of cyclists from Derby Mercury. These included Derek Wilkins, “Hambone” Broadhurst and Les “Flog” Hazlehurst, these were to be good mates for years. We had a chatted for a while - they were going home they had had enough of the weather. We carried on to Dolgellau where we stopped at the Aber Café (it is still in business 1999). The proprietors could not believe the food we ate, the waitress shouting to the kitchen “Another loaf for the cyclists”. In the evening we had a race in to Barmouth but we didn’t stay long as the Army were parading on the main square, they were billeted in all the large boarding houses at the rear of the square. Easter Sunday found us leaving Dolgellau and so on some byroads passing the lake at Trawsfyndd (now the site of a nuclear power station). Through the unknown byroads to Ysbt-ifan to the A5 where we turned right on to the A5 towards Corwen. We were now very tired and hungry and on reaching Pentre Foelas, Baz announced if we turned right down this narrow track we would arrive -after a ten mile ride - at a farm where we could get a good meal. We protested about the 10-mile, but he was kidding us it was only one mile, we had a marvellous meal there. Staying the night at a pub at Pentre Foulas, we had a good night.

Up early as usual we wended our way along the A5 through Corwen, Llangollen and Rhuaboin then through Overton. We knew this road very well as previous tales have told. We never mastered the route around Whitchurch area again getting lost, finishing up at Market Drayton deadbeat and hungry. Being clever I announced that things would be OK when we reached Stone as I remembered the chip shop from our previous excursions. We eventually arrived at Stone, but to the displeasure of my pals the chip shop was closed. Two American soldiers came up to us and on seeing how downcast we were they asked us the problem; we informed them how far we had ridden and that we were all “bonked” out. These Americans were terrific ambassadors of their country, we were whisked off in a lorry with our bikes to their camp and treated to a most marvellous meal of “T” bone steaks, pineapple and ice cream and the most gorgeous coffee; we had not seen food like that since pre war and even then nothing to come up to that. Contrary to all tales of the “Yanks” these where superb. We rode home on a cloud.

#018 Begining of the knee troubles

1943 dawned with us at Hartington Youth Hostel once more. We had done the usual thing i.e. big meal, then down to the Charles Cotton for drinks and singsong. We returned to the hostel, there were a lot of “Rock & Ice” climbers there and we soon engaged in some rough games, one of these was “two four six eight ten” and off again. This game entailed one man as a pillar then six bent down causing one long back whilst the other team jumped on your back “hobby horse style”. Everything was OK until I had about three big climbers on my back and with legs slightly apart I couldn’t flex my knee and with that weight on my back my knee joint broke. The pain was terrific and my knee was like a football. I didn’t get much sleep that night, the next morning was another cross bar job with me wheeling my bike by the handlebars as well. I caught the train from Ashbourne (station is closed now although Derbyshire CC have levelled the track and it is used by cyclists and walkers and called the Tissington Trail). I attended the doctors; he just said bathe it in lead lotion as hot as you can bare I did this and the swelling went down. I still had trouble with this knee (and 53 years later continue to do so - I’m waiting for a knee joint operation 1999). Racing was curtailed by this accident but eventually I began to feel OK and was doing well in the grass track at Nottingham, in fact I was leading by a small margin from another “5 miler” Arthur Stokes.

We had entered for Sports Meeting at Kynoch in Birmingham, sponsored by I.C.I we had also entered at Market Bosdworth and Hugglesscote it was the August holidays. Lo and behold on the Thursday before the August Bank Holiday I was called in to Derby Royal Infirmary to have my knee sorted out. I was ‘flying’ at the time and was really disappointed especially as I didn’t get my operation done till the Wednesday after the Aug hols. I was in hospital three weeks. A spinal injection had been administered - toes couldn’t be touched for months after that. I had my cartilidges removed from my left knee. I rode in a 10 ml Time Trial on the then new Nottingham course doing a 29 odd ride. My brother Alan (unfortunately killed in 1946 on my Motorbike) broke the course record with an amazing ride of 21 min 15 sec this record stood for many years. In my absence he had won every event in the Nottingham Track League enabling me to win the Championship and the Club to win the Team. My other brother, Ernie, had taken 2^nd in the ¼ and ½ mile events, Dave Holmes taking 3^rd – Blos Catchpole had taken 3^rd place in the 5-mile. The hillclimb venue was changed for this year - away from tradition, to Piston Hill near Melbourne and not Monsal Dale. My younger brother Alan excelled, winning by a large margin from Dave Holmes. Alan was called up into the Fleet Air Arm shortly after this event, depriving him of a great cycling career.

Hostelling again came in to the equation even going as far as Dimmingsdale and Windgather Cottage during the winter 1943/44. Early in 1944 I started courting,her name was Jean Woodward, she worked as a part time Station Master at sawley Junction this curtailed my racing or rather training, this - coupled with my new job at the shop – and standing all day my fitness inevitably declined. That year, the NCU cycling body transferred our club to Derby Centre from Nottingham, this enabled us to ride on the municipal track at Derby as well as the grass track at Nottingham. A large meeting was held that year at Whitsuntide at Derby, and a large crowd attended. The entry was excellent - Lou Pond, Reg Harris, Tommy Godwin, Wally Box, Lloyd Binch, Reg. Morton. Jim Turner rode brilliantly only being narrowly beaten by Reg. Harris. The other event of the day was the NCU National 25-ml Championship; I had ridden in the other events but had lost my “zip”. I did however finish 4^th in this event which was won by Tommy Godwin with Jim Turner 2^nd. I lost the Nottingham track league title, yet I did not lose one 5mile event all season, was hopeless in the sprints.

#015 1941 and the Nottingham Track League

We were fortunate enough to continue Youth Hostelling throughout 1941. One particular time at Hartington, Gordon Rouse came home on leave and came with us to the Hostel. We had dinner then walked down to the Charles Cotton pub where we had plenty to drink and then a good singsong. We left there at about 10pm and entered the Village Dance, the ticket office was a small hole in the wall, Gordon put his sailor hat over the hole and we all trooped without paying. On entering the dance hall Gordon went on the stage, he got hold of the microphone and announced that the next dance would be a “Snake Dance” and all those idiots who had snaked in without paying would they please snake out again and pay!

That same winter quite a few of us had taken dancing lessons (yes, even me) so we were anxious to show off our prowess. I was hopeless but I did meet a girl, her name was Rosalie Crutchley. She lived 3 miles away at a small hamlet called Sheen, Frank Clay another close mate was with Rosalie’s sister, we decided to walk these girls home. Norman was to leave a window open in the hostel kitchen because we were supposed to be in the hostel by 11 p.m. We walked the girl’s home, a small kiss and then walked back to the hostel. We arranged to meet them the next day in the country but it rained and spoilt the day, Norman was there too making choice remarks, so the effort was spoilt. We met these girls for about three weeks after this, then the whole thing fizzled out. The girls were lovely looking with smashing dispositions - we have never forgotten them. The reason for telling this tale is what happened some 50 years later, I was working at Llanidloes at a Peugeot garage as a Parts Manager, when in came a lady awaiting service on her car. She sat down in our office and from my accent she asked me if I was from Derbyshire, I obviously said yes whereupon she asked me if I knew Derbyshire or rather the Peak District. It appeared she went for a holiday the year before and stayed at Crutchleys - the same farm where we had walked the two sisters. The customer said they were both married now and had children, one of the girls being the spitting image of her lovely mother and that Rosalie was as beautiful as ever, how’s that for a small world?

1941 saw a lot of clubmen called up to the various services but we still managed to race and have club runs. On one particular run to Bradgate Park we met up with members of Long Eaton Wheelers, this was an offshoot of Beeston Wheelers. They were deflated by members being called up so we decided to join forces, this meeting brought “Bas” Butler and Bert Humpries into our club, these two will appear many times in this story. At that time, spring 1941, we had a Frenchman join the club, he had been to Bradgate Park before and was very proud to show us rough English the “echo stone”. You entered a small cleft in the rock (only room for one) then you shouted some expletive and the echo rang round about ten times from the distant hills, how he found this out I’ll never know.

The same year also saw the birth of Nottingham Track League. On one Monday night we had been to a meeting at Freddie Grettons house to formulate this, Notts. Castle B.C. Bill Berresford was in the chair, what a cycling stalwart he was, Arthur Spurgin of Broad Oak was also there (there will be more of him later in first “Peace Race” I was to go on in 1955.) The upshot of the meeting was that the first track league competition would start the next Wednesday night on the Embankment near the WW1 memorial in Nottingham, the track was to be marked out the following night by the Nottingham members, we need not attend, we were informed! On the following night we went down to our grass track training spot, this was situated on the Sawley flood bank on the Trentside in one of Grammers fields just over the wooden bridge. (This was an old bridge used for horses towing barges down the Trent & Mersey canal, it was washed away in the great floods in 1947, it has been replaced by a metal bridge joined to the side of the Railway Bridge).

We had marked out a half mile stretch on the top of this quite level grass path, we also had our “marks” marked out (Norman Casswell was on Scratch). We had several races that night and afterwards we decided to go over to Nottingham to see how the Track was looking. It would have been about 8 p.m. by then but as “double summertime” was in operation it was still light till almost 11 p.m. We arrived Nottingham about 9 p.m. and all we could see at the site was Bill Berresford, Arthur Spurgin and Frankie Hippey looking decidedly dejected. Nothing had been done. We took over, marked out the track put in the corner pegs, painted the marks and really did a good job (no danger of anyone pinching the pegs in those days). The following night the first Nottingham N.C.U. Track League commenced, it was a huge success from the word go, thousands of spectators out for an evening stroll by the Trent were spellbound and turned up every week to watch and be entertained.

There were some good riders there too in those early days, Arthur Hunt, Cyril Harpur, Les Davies (later of Derby Mercury fame) Joe Ablutt, Jim Cockayne as well as riders from my own club i.e. Norman Casswell, “Blos” Catchpole, “Bas” Butler, my two brothers Ernie and Alan. Our club was to win the first Team Prize and I luckily won the individual events, I had hell of a tussle with Joe Ablutt who was brilliant in the 5-mile events. We had quite a duel, the only way I could beat him was to sit on his wheel from the start and then try and pass him on the last lap. Norman Casswell was our mentor, he was a brilliant sprinter, winning most of ¼ mile events, and he was to coach that great International rider Eric Thompson after the war years.

Later on that same year my Dad built me a new track frame, he built it one Saturday afternoon. We built it up polishing the bare frame, painting the lugs black then rode to Wymeswold Youth Hostel for the weekend. We detected a bad name with the warden there, a Mrs Bishop, (we were to encounter the Bishop family at many more hostels in the future). The next morning we had all the rough duties, washing up for everybody, cleaning the ‘self cookers’ kitchen, we also did a job we didn’t know we had to do, that was repairing the wood burning stove. We had chopped a lot of wood, so we decided to light the stove, of course smoke poured out, we found on examination that the smoke damper was rusted in. We repaired this and the stove worked a treat. Our prestige went up 100%; we were always welcome at Wymeswold after this.

#014 Touring in Wales

Early in 1941 just before Gordon Roose and Bill Barrowclif where called up , we decided to go to Wales for a week long tour. The other pal being Norman “Bloss” Catchpole and of course myself. We set off early one Saturday morning going via Aston, Weston, Willington and so on to the main road to Uttoxeter, Stone, Audlem, Whitchurch where we took a wrong turn - the lack of any signposts did not help - , we missed the turn off to Overton on Dee and so ended up at Wrexham. A kind man put us on the road to Rhuabon and on arriving there we went over the railway bridge towards the Monsanto works and so past the canal to Llangollen where we had lunch after a 90 mile non-stop ride. We left Llangollen travelling via Corwen, Betts-y-Coed where we had tea then on to Capel Curig turning left there to go over the Llanberris pass.

We had a smashing run down Llanberris Pass, on to Caernarfon where we stayed in small cottage near the famous castle. We had our evening meal then a walk round the castle where we had fun on the ramparts. On walking up to the town square Norman who wore “pebble” type glasses said “look at that man standing on top of that bus”. We glanced up and sure enough it did appear so, the reason being that the bus was parked at the side of a statue of Lloyd George. The next day we went on towards Harlech going via a load of slate mines near to Blaeno Ffestinioig ( I was to visit these underground mines years later when I took two French pals of mine who were working with me at Barratts, Plas Talgarth in 1990.) We of course toured the castle at Harlech it was free then. After that visit we went on to Talybont beach where Norman had been camping with the Sandiacre scout group the previous year, we didn’t like it so we went on to Barmouth where we stayed the night. Barmouth then was like an army camp with men drilling on the esplanade. The cinema was open (it was a converted Church) so we went there. We had a large breakfast the next morning, cheked over the bikes and so on to Dolgellau where we booked in at Aber Café (still there 1999). We had a midday meal, then decided to go to Aberystwyth we climbed out towards Cross Foxes then down the beautiful Tal-y-llyn pass leaving the lake on the right. Passing thro Corris we had a look at the narrow gauge railway which took the quarried slate down to Machynlleth station (now closed). Eventually we arrived at Aberystwyth going down the steep hill then turning right on to the sea front, we rode to the end of the promenade towards the cliff railway. This is a deadend, we had a quick discussion deciding we didn’t like the place and promptly returned to Dolgellau.

After a large meal (we almost ate the café’s whole stock of food) we retired to bed. Up early next morning we left Dolgellau then up the winding hilly road to Cross Foxes turning left towards Dinas Mawddwy to Welshpool. We went through Bangor-on-Dee missing the road to Whitchurch completely, got hopelessly lost finishing up miles off course at Wem where we were able to pick up the road to Whitchurch then on to our regular stopping place - the fish & chip shop at Stone. (I was to visit this chip shop with my young son Alan in 1985, it was run by Pakistanis, they where quite interested in the history). Fed, watered and rejuvinated, we continued the journey home and so ended a terrific tour, we all spent less than £4 for the whole week.

#013 1940 - Touring in Wales and Somerset

We trained hard for the 1940 season but of course, by now quite a few club members had been called up. One of these, Tommy Fox, was stationed just this side of Bakewell. Most Sundays we called in there to see him, we had gone over Rowsley Bar and into Stanton woods, had dinner at Alport, then through Lathkill Dale and home, in the dark of course. I have been so ‘knackered’ that I could hardly ride up Cemetery and Cherry Hill in Derby, crawling through Borrowash, Draycott and Breaston then down Wilsthorpe Lane and home.

1940 was really my first full season of bike racing. I won the Handicap cup by one second from my best mate Gordon Rouse. Early in 1940 the Air Ministry formed the Air Training Corps, Gordon Rouse and his brother Eddie (soon to be a Naval Officer in Corvette’s on Atlantic convoys) and I were the first to join. Major Hobson was in charge and we learnt Algebra and Navigation. Gordon was called up - I failed my medical with flat feet.

Club champion Les Thompson, Johnny Slack and Track Champion Eric Barnes and Monty Burton, Vic Mills and Stan Ballard were all sent to the colours. Even so, new people were joining the club and we had a good secretary in Edna Catchpole, her brothers Norman and Frank also joined the club. Whitsuntide 1940 saw me with Fred Hillier on our third tour, this time to Wales. We set off on Saturday morning the weather was perfect, the news was that the Germans had invaded France -. As a precaution should we be invaded, all signposts had been removed, so we memorised the route going through Uttoxeter, Stone, Pipe Gate, Woore, (where we stopped to look at the giant steam engine pumping water for the whole of Staffordshire) Whitchurch, Rhuabon and so past the canal and into Llangollen. As we had left home at 4.30am we arrived at Llangollen quite early, in fact about 10am so we climbed the Horseshoes Pass to Ruthin then past Rhuddlan Castle and so into Rhyll. We were accosted by the Military in Rhyll who thought we were paratroopers. Rhyll beach was all barbed wire and military so we went down the coast to Colwyn Bay and Conway. We then returned to Llangollen got some good digs and in the evening we walked up to the castle - quite a climb. I have never repeated this feat although I now live in Wales. We returned home the next day, being stopped many times to produce our Identity Cards. Arriving home about six o’clock we went to Trent Lock and hired rowing boats for the rest of the evening (double summer time was in operation then).

In August that year I went on tour with Norman Caswell to Somerset, his wife Norma was staying at Upton on Severn, we called there to see her and have a meal. Leaving Norma, we rode through Malvern intending to stay at Malvern Links youth hostel, but they were full, we returned to Malvern but couldn’t find anywhere there either so we had to retrace to Cleeve Hill Y.H. where we were able to stay in the annex. Up early next morning, we did our duties and we were soon on the road through Cheltenham, then to Gloucester where we passed the docks. Some quite big timber ships were unloading at Bryant & Mays match factory – long since gone. And so on to Bristol again by the docks, across the swing bridge and up the hill on the A38 and on to Bridgwater, (this being the only flat bit of that day’s tour). Off the A38 we turned left to Cheddar Gorge, we had been going quite fast up till then, in fact I was taking a packet, so naturally I thought we should stop and have a look at Goffs Caves, which comes just before the climb. What a hope I had, as just before the caves a puka racing man came and passed us on sprints and all stripped down, that was a sign for Norman to jump on his wheel and beat him to the top leaving me trailing in their wake. When I did get to Norman his words were “What was that down there with all those rocks each side” - what a bloody idiot. Anyway I took him down Burrington Coome, up Cheddar gorge, on to Wookey Hole where he had a flat in his front wheel. We went through all the necessary procedures but couldn’t find the puncture. The tyre was blown up and stayed up for the rest of the tour.

We stopped and went round Wells Cathedral, then called at Weston Super Mare. The tide has a 33 feet fall, and is the second highest in the world, enabling quite fair sized ships to go up the Avon and in to Bristol – all we saw, the tide being out, was a beach of mud. We went on to Bream Down and stayed at Hutton YHA. This had only opened that year and the Warden was a lady from Ilkeston, so Norman asked if she knew Jo Doner in the Ilkeston dialect whereupon he was answered in pure Queens English, quite a come down for us. We had a good meal there, and then had a walk to look at Steepholm.

The next morning after breakfast we where given our duties Norman, after his run in with the warden, had to wash the pots for about 40 and he had to dry them as well. My duty was chopping down a large bed of nettles, these had stems like tree trunks, and I had almost finished when Norman appeared and as I cut the last one he shouted “timber”. We left the hostel at about 10 a.m. bound for Warwick Castle, this was a Youth Hostel during the war. Our route was via Street, Glastonbury, where we visited the ruined Cathedral, then on to Bath, Chippenham, on the old Fosse Way to Cirencester, Stow on the Wold, Moreton en le Marsh and so to Warwick.

We arrived at the hostel early (well before 5pm). The warden let us in and made us sandwiches and tea, he then produced a map asking us where we had cycled from, “What time did you start?” he asked, we said 10am. He was amazed at the short time we had taken, mind you after Glastonbury we had been doing ‘a two up’. During this ride we were to witness the “Battle of Britain” which was going on overhead, thank God we weren’t in it. The weather had been perfect, not a cloud in the sky. We had a wonderful meal in the evening then a stroll round Warwick. You always feel proud to be walking round towns when you have arrived under your own steam, I have never encountered this feeling by motorbike or car, getting to any place under you own power has this special feeling. The next morning we awoke to wind and rain, we came home thro’ Coventry and saw the terrible war damage, I was to see much worse in Dresden, but that would be 15 year’s later in the 1955 Peace Race. We arrived home for dinner after a real happy tour. I rode a 30 mile Time Trial the Sunday of our return and managed 1hr18m winning 1st handicap and that eventually gave me the Handicap Cup for season 1940.

#012 The War Years

It was all history in 1939 as it was obvious when Hitler annexed Slovenia that war was inevitable. Quite a few of the club where called up in the “Militia”. The government had introduced ‘call up’ for age 21 group early, meanwhile my job as a draughtsman came to an end with, the firm closing due to lack of orders. I managed to obtain a job with Excelsior Foundry Co, an offshoot of the Allied Ironfounders Group (later Glynwed). This new post was in a general office and I was sent to a school in Nottingham to learn contompeters. This knowledge of Accounts and Buying was to hold me in good stead for jobs I had much later. The place of work was situated in Sandiacre which is about 4 miles from home and as we had a 1 ½ hour lunch break I was able to cycle home and back easily, this proved to be good training. Early in 1940 I was transferred to Burton Foundry Co, doing the same job but Allied Ironfounders had taken over and all our manufacture was transferred to Burton, actually only two of us were taken there the other man being the fitting shop Forman. Whilst still at Sandiacre we had with us a pattern maker for all the different castings, what marvellous men these were making everything in wood so a pattern could put in the black sand for iron moulding. We had a cupolo for melting the iron ore which came from Stanton just up the road, early in 1939 the firm had orders for bedplates for lathes manufactured by Myford Engineering Co at Beeston. The first rough castings looked OK but when Myford tried to machine big blowholes appeared - what a disaster. We had to employ a metallurgist, the cupola men had thrown coke pig iron and scrap just as they had for rainwater pipe, guttering and fire grates. The metallurgist soon put this right. My cousin Maurice, who was metallurgist at Vickers in Attercliffe Sheffield, thought it was a huge joke.

During the “phoney" war we still hostelled, especially during the winter. We dressed up Hartington hostel for Christmas using local holly and fir trees etc, it looked a picture. In 1933 the Y.H.A. was formed in this country, (by a German idea initially) A German had opened the hostel officially and had planted a tree. Owing to the hate campaign at this time towards the Germans the tree was uprooted and the plaque taken down. Luckily both the tree and the plaque was saved and when 1 took my young son Alan to Hartington in 1995 the tree and the plaque were back in position. Most of the eligible young club members were called up that winter which was a particularly bad winter.

Early in 1940 I had decided to race and with a new mate of mine, Gordon Roose (unfortunately drowned in a submarine in the Aegean in 1942) and with Freddie Hillier we started training under the watchful eye of Norman Casswell. Norman was to be our mentor for many years (wartime Navy duty years interupting this). Our first event early in February 1940 was a 25 mile T.T promoted by Doncaster Wheelers, we stayed the night at Barnby Moor about 40 mile from home. This place was a Transport Café only some 50 yds from the start. We arrived there in time for dinner. The place was run by an ex-racing cyclist named Albert Thorley, he cooked the dinner on an open fire range whilst he was talking to us about his racing and coalmining days. He paused to spit a coal blackened gob over the top of our egg and chips ‑ it almost put us off, (it takes a lot to put cyclists of their food) We then retired to bed – and discovered why the place was called ‘Thorleys bug hut’!. The race started at 7 a.m. and it was so cold. At that time, the RTTC regulation clothing was black, full-length tights and black alpaca jacket - this was supposed to be inconspicuous, we looked like a bunch of crows.

Youth Hostelling continued to play a big part in our weekends during 1939/40. Hartington, Ravenstor, Derwent and Leam Hall being our favourites, we cooked our own food having marvellous evening meals, then down to the pub, back to the common room for a singsong. We dressed Hartington youth hostel up for Christmas using only holly and parts of fir trees, it looked a picture. We stayed home for Christmas meeting on Boxing Day in the Royal Oak pub, which was just across the road from our house/shop. The pub was packed and, with piano and drums in the concert room, everyone had a great time. Early in January 1940 when cycling to work, I broke my left wrist running in to the rear of a white Carter’s pop lorry, which I had not seen in the thick fog. 1940 was a very bad winter and I was off work for three weeks of the worst of the weather. After recovering from this with my wrist still in plaster, we set of early in February on a first training run to Waterhouses of Mrs Hickinbottom fame. Things were ok until we reached Ashbourne then on the climb up Swinscoe we hit snow. We skidded down all the hills, i.e. still on 69” fixed gear with one brake, just locking the back wheel. Of course Norman Casswell had no lock ring fitted, so he had to hold on my shoulder to slow down. Arriving at Waterhouses at 12 noon we knocked on Mrs Hickinbottm’s door and for once she made us welcome, drying our clothes and our shoes, she was so surprised to see us in the foul weather. We did not stay long, although she cooked us a fine meal and supplied us with a dozen eggs each, and gave us each a box and straw to carry them back home. We had difficulty tying the boxes to the rear of our bikes, but we got the eggs home OK much to the pleasure of our parents.

#011 Pre-War Memories

Almost forgotten in the thirties was the appearance of Air shows, first we had Fruity Yates and Red McKay, flying an Avro Trainer and a Bristol ex World War 1 fighter. The Avro was used for cheap flights ‑ i.e. only one passenger at a time, the Bristol being used for stunt flights never to be seen again. This all took part on the then so called flying field which is now a Wimpy housing estate, half way along Wilsthorpe Road, later years saw the arrival of Sir Alan Cobham’s Air circus which until 1935 included the De Haviland twin engined plane which, with Scott and Black on board, had recently broken the record for the flight from Croydon to Australia in just over two days. Also in this marvellous show was an early helicopter, 'Cierva Autogiro' and a 'Handley Page’ ex Imperial Airways "Hannibal" ‑ a very large passenger plane. The show also included a De Haviland. Rapide and many small planes such as a "Gypsy Moth" (flown by Chichester on his round-the-world flight). Red McKay still did his stunt flights - a never to be forgotten scene and never to be repeated. It is little known that Sir Alan Cobham was the inventor of in‑flight refuelling.

Football, which had taken hold of me when in hospital, was now a passionate past time. I had picked Arsenal as my team but in 1933 my Uncle Bill who lived at Derby, took me to see Derby County play Arsenal. I was looking forward to seeing my team run out in their crisp red and white strip as seen on coloured photographs. What a disappointment I had when they came out on the then grassless Derby pitch, the red had run into the white so they had pink sleeves. They looked terrible. This team hadn't been beaten that season, but Derby put paid to that beating them 3‑0, Hughie Gallacher scoring a hat trick. It was still good to see in the flesh Arsenal’s Ted Drake, Alex James, Eddie Hapgood, George Male and the Derby side Sammy Crooks and Dally Duncan. I changed my allegiance to Derby from then on and am still a great fan. In fact when I was taking part in the Warsaw to Prague bike race in 1963, I was to meet the whole team when they were playing East Germany in Leipzig (Derby won 3‑1. but more of this later). I'm forgetting we are still at the end of 1938.

After our Hawick trip we settled down to weekly club runs. We had an excellent ‘run’ secretary in Rueben Hutchings. He took us to all the lovely scenic places within an 80-mile radius of Long Eaton. We visited most of the Youth Hostels in the area ‑ especially those in the Peak District, which was to become the first National Park in the land. Late in 1938 Fred Hillier and I were challenged to race in the final event of that year, a 25 mile Time Trial, we were told wrongly to take our time. I sat up all the way to record 1 hr.16 min 58secs. I could have beaten that easily. This event put us off racing for another two years, if only we had been encouraged then. Still we continued touring and Youth Hostelling all that winter. Later in October 1938 we went to see the Long Eaton C.C. hillclimb this was won by Les Thompson in 1 min, 31 secs. I vowed at that time that I would one day ride that hillclimb. I did so in 1946 when my own Long Eaton C.C. in conjunction with South Yorks ran this event. The distance had been extended and I won for L.E.C.C. with a 1 min. 39 sec., and North Derbyshire NCU rider Cliff Beldham took the title with a 1 min 31 secs. This rider, together with Bill Day, Talkie" Ron Moore, Bill Dodds and George Postlewaite were to be our big rivals in Grass Tracks throughout the next few years.

1938 started with war clouds gathering, naturally no-one wanted war and so when Neville Chamberlain came back with his “bit of paper” from Munich everyone rejoiced at this! The autumn of that year Mr. Rogers, who was headmaster of Derby Road School, persuaded me to attend his “Keep Fit class” which was held every Monday and Thursday evenings at 7 p.m. It had taken a few weeks to persuade me, as I was very self-conscious of my thin calves due to years of plaster of Paris clad legs. However I attended. Looking back and with the benefit of hindsight, Mr Rogers psychologically gave me a lift, as I found that my abdominal muscles were superior to anyone in the class. He had me on the ‘rings’ and I was able to hold my legs out straight for minutes on end. I could sit on the floor and raise my bottom off the ground with my legs outstretched, climb the ropes using hands only, with legs straight out all the way to the roof and back, for once I could do something that no one in the class could do, most of the cycle club attended. After the class we all trouped to the “Grimsby” fish and chip shop. We sat at tables, which had glass tops, one of which was broken with two pieces left on the side. We proceeded to repair this table top, the last piece going in with a loud bang, whereupon the Proprietor picked up a large carving knife and chased us out of the shop. He did have the good grace to apologise to us the following Thursday night as he noticed we had repaired the table.

#010 Touring with the LECC

The following day I started work in an office specialising in lace design and draughtsmanship. I was with them for a year, it was very interesting and to this day (1998) 1 can still remember putting patterns on those long machines and sticking round bit in the holes of the jacquards at the rear. Panic stations existed when nylon was introduced, because when it broke you could not find an end ‑ it just disappeared. I was still cycling and was used by our gaffer to deliver patterns in a 10 mile radius of Long Eaton.

By this time I had joined the Long Eaton Cycling Club, not to race but to go touring. It’s funny how one remembers those first club runs. At Tissington, where the famous well dressings took place each year, then through a host of lanes where tea was taken at Kirk Ireton, then back home via the Cubleys. There then followed visits to Creswell Crags and Welbeck Tunnels. These connected the big houses of the Dukes hence the name for the area “Dukeries”. Dinner was at Cuckney and tea at The Hut near Mansfield. We toured the Snake Pass, Cat & Fiddle, Mooredge and the Roches. Club run to Derwent was a must; we watched the early construction of Lady Bower dam, which was opened late in the war. We also had a run to Frieston Shore near Boston, whose idea that was I don't recall ‑ only that it was a heap of mud and we had cross winds too. Another run that sticks in my mind was to Lincoln Cathedral and the Castle and the Jail that was not then in use. The mines at Castleton was another long run with Winitts Pass and Mam Tor then on to Dove Holes and back through Buxton stopping at Tideswell for tea, then a long bash home.

Another wonder of those days were the landladies of the houses with the CTC (Cycle Touring Club) sign outside, for the princely sum of 4p one could use all their facilities and also have a pot of tea included, in to‑days inflated prices its seems impossible. Several landladies come to mind, like Mrs Buckley at Rowsley. We stopped here playing cards till 9pm she never seemed to bother. In fact her husband joined in. then we had the long ride home mostly in winter.i.e 33miles.

At Waterhouses we made the acquaintance of Mrs. Hickenbottom, we called her nattering Annie, if you hadn’t booked you were in dead trouble, but after a lot of harsh words she would come round and say 'We have only got egg and chips to‑day', she always found a cake for us though, woe betide anybody else who were late and then stated they were with us they had no chance, she had a nice fire for us in winter but you were in dead trouble if you put your feet on the fender. Another great place was Mrs Boam at Winster, great food there and always a good welcome. I’m sure these women looked forward to seeing us, even though they grumbled, touring cyclists very quickly get to know the best places to eat and another ‘watering hole’ was the ‘Ever Bubbling Kettle’ at Lincoln.

Whitsun 1938 saw us on a trip to Wembley Arena for the London six day Bike race, we arranged to leave at 5.30am unfortunately I overslept. However 1 knew we were stopping for breakfast at Bruntingthorpe, so my Dad got the car out, slipped my bike on the rack and I was able to catch them up. We had breakfast then set off for Wembley travelling via Newport Pagnell and Woburn then along the A5. We had dinner at Woburn then on to Wembley for a 7 p.m. start. What a riot of colour and the track and the riders, I can still remember some of them, Cor Wals of Holland, Jeff Scherens. Karal Kears, Syd Cousins with Charlie Helps both of England. Schulte and Boyen, Vrooman, Holland. Owing to the political climate the Foreign Office in their wisdom banned the Germans and Italians, we all had a most marvellous night. We were turned out early in the morning and boy, was it cold. We rode back home dead tired in fact several of us got our capes out and slept for an hour on the pavement. That same year my pal Stan from the Somerset/Devon tour was called up to the Air Force.

Another lad of our crowd Freddie Hillier asked me to go with him to Scotland for a week, cost would be reasonable as we could stay with his Uncle Bill at Hawick. Another lad decided he would also like to come, his name, Ernie Chadwick. We left on the Friday night before the Bank Holiday weekend, stopping the first night at a transport cafe on the Ollerton Road. We were up early next day, onto the A614 then on to the A1, Fred's dad and mum were coming up to Scotland in their Morgan/Jap three wheeler. They caught us up at Wetherby and treated us to a large breakfast; the second that day, you don't half eat on a bike. We then rode up the A1 to Scotch Corner, turned left on to the A66, called at Bowes Castle and had a look round, then over the Pennines where at that time the highest railway in GB was – unfortunatley long gone now. We were very honoured to see a train go over there.

We had tea at Penrith then on to Carlisle where Fred had an uncle, thank God. We literally fell in there, his uncle owned a bakery so we had plenty to eat, we dropped into bed that night and slept like logs. Up early next day on the road to the England/Scotland border, where we stayed and took photos. Then on to Langholm, over the Moss Paul Pass to be met at the top by Fred's uncle who took us into the Moss Paul Inn for another feed, we left there and almost freewheeled in to Hawick, we stayed in a block of flats near the then Railway Bridge. We put our bikes away and didn't use them again until we came home the following Saturday. Fred's uncle took us to all the local sights and Abbeys.

We also had a trip to Edinburgh on the train, crates of beer were bought we had a whale of a time, singing all the Scottish ballads to Fred's uncle playing the mouth organ. In no time we arrived at Princess Street Station, and the fabulous Scottish capital, Princess Street was a revelation. Shops on one side and the castle and Walter Scott monument on the other, we were also taken on the train across the Forth Bridge to North Queens Ferry Station, bearing in mind the wonderful bridge was only 40 years old then, we were mesmerised. We returned back to Hawick on the train with more beer and songs. Whilst at Hawick we visited the grave of Jimmy Guthrie, the famous International Motor Cyclist, who had been killed at Hockenheim track that same year, he had skidded on a patch of oil after the finishing line and was taken to hospital. Adolf Hitler brought to his bedside his laurel leaves and trophy. Unfortunately he died shortly after. (His brother had quite a flourishing garage at that time in Hawick).

Saturday came for the day of our return, we checked the bikes - not much to check ie fixed gear with one front brake. We bid our tearful goodbyes then on the road, the pace was slow and not many words were spoken. We stopped at Fred's uncle again at Carlisle, then on the A66 to Penrith and then over Bowes Moor to Scotch Corner flying thro Borrowbridge, Wetherby, Doncaster and home. The journey was a nightmare; we arrived home having completed 250 miles in one day. All our parents were on holiday, so we had to break in to Fred's house, then to sleep for 14 hours ‑ I have never ridden so far before or since.