#070 - 1961 - A long weekend and meeting the Prime Minister

Trade continued to be good for us and in Sept 1961 we were appointed main stockists for BSA and Lambretta Spare Parts - ensuring extra discounts, we held our first staff dinner at the Rose & Crown Inn at Smalley and our annual ‘works outing’ to the National Cycle & Motor Cycle Show at Earls Court which was always looked forward to and enjoyed by us all. We would catch the 8 a.m. business train from Nottingham, have breakfast in the dining car and just finish that second cup of coffee as we glided in to St. Pancras, London and then by taxi to the show. Once there our suppliers fell over themselves to wine & dine us and try and sell us the earth. We caught the 6 p.m. train back to Nottingham.

The shop had another good Christmas mainly selling bikes to 15-18 year olds ( still on the 1945 birth rate bulge). Phillips kiddies trikes were in short supply that year (i.e. the luxury model with blow up tyres and a luggage boot) and I telephoned the Phillips works at Newtown (Powys) where they were manufactured and managed to reserve three, but they would have to be collected.

We had an Austin 1800 car then so could easily pick these up. I set off early but when approaching Weston on Trent the SU electric petrol pump packed up. We had had this problem before on a Riley “Elf”, so we always carried a service/exchange unit with us. The only trouble was snow on the ground and on that model the pump is just below the rear boot, I got it on but was mucked up to the eyes. There was no M54 or A5(M) or Welshpool bypass, the best way in 1960 was through Shrewsbury, on to narrow, twisty counry lanes to Montgomery through Sarn and Kerry then in the back entrance to Phillips factory near the railway. The trikes collected, it was an uneventful journey back to Long Eaton. (Phillips closed their Newtown factory in the early “70s” it is now split up in to various small units).

Kathleen had been living at No 1. Myrtle Avenue for 2 years by now, and we had become good friends. There was always a warming mug of milky coffee (sometimes laced with rum on a winter’s day) and I didn’t always wait until I had a learner rider to coach to enjoy her coffee and company. By now Dianne was 7 and David aged 4 was just starting Mikado Infants School. Although we didn’t know or speak of each others private life and our relationship was strictly platonic, it would seem that neither of us was very happy at home and this in no small way contributed to our growing friendship. Kathleen had a pedal cycle and with my knowledge of local byways I was able to give her a few routes to explore and in the summer evenings she would go towards the River Trent at Sawley, turn left by the boat yard and so down a lovely lane towards Kegworth, and also ride with the children to Dale Abbey where there is a famous farmhouse which has a church attached.

In March 1962 I had an invite to drive the team car on the “Tour de L'Avenir” i.e. the amateur “Tour de France”, a dream of a job, however due to pressure of work it was with great reluctance that I had to decline. Bert was home for the weekend and when I told him about the invite he wondered if he could go in my place. This was cleared by manager Bob Thom but he wasn’t very impressed. However, Bert did his usual ‘Stirling Moss’ job with the driving, helped the mechanic and did all the washing and odd jobs that are always needed on a stage race. This was Barry Hoban’s first stage race. When they arrived home following the race, Bob Thom telephoned and thanked me for sending such a good man.

At the end of March that year on Easter Saturday, Derby County were playing Preston North End in a Cup match, Keith and his lads Peter and David, Jean, Carol and I went. Our eldest brother-in-law had gone to work as a baker in Preston and had a big flat. We left Jean and the three children with Joyce - Keith and I going to the match. Derby won 1-0, man of the match was Prestons Archie Gemmill, Derby signed him there and then, what a player he turned out to be both for Derby County and later for Nottingham Forest. The only food we seemed to have each meal at Dougies (Jean’s brother) was “hot cross buns” and Cornish pasties.

We left Preston and travelled up north to Loch Lomond Youth Hostel which is on the shores of the Loch. En route, we had called at some friends at Inerleithen, near Peebles, the man of the house had been stationed at Chilwell Ordnance depot during the war and had married a Long Eaton girl who was a friend of ours. They lived in a pre-fabricated bungalow, these “pre-fabs” as they were called, were built after the war to house the returning Servicemen. These in Inerleithen were being brick built round the existing building. They gave us heaps of toast and mugs of tea, they had been clearing out all the rubbish and we rescued a ‘Marie Antoinette’ type hat.

We left their house going through the back way to Loch Lomand Youth Hostel. We had a meal there, then after dinner we took part in highland dancing and had a lovely night. In the grounds of the youth hostel there is a fairly high statue. Keith threw up the hat we had got from Inerleithen and it landed right on the statue’s head! Some weeks later the family came to this same hostel on a Woman’s Institute visit, espying the statue they were greatly surprised to see it wearing their hat!

We had a terrific drive on Easter Monday up the east side of Scotland to Oban; we looked round there then retraced to Connell Bridge, the railway ran at the side of the single track road, then over the Ferry at Ballachullish (there is a new bridge there now) and from there up Rannoch Moor, through Kinlockeven to Fort William and then on the road to the Isles, we only got as far as the King Charles monument when we decided we had gone far enough as we had planned to stop at Perth Youth Hostel that night. We came down the A9 arriving at Perth in time for an evening meal. Jean and the children decided to go to see a film while Keith and I went to have a look at the new Glenshee ski lift, we also went to Braemar and Balmoral. Keith and I headed back but it was now dark, we could see on the left a lovely big mansion all floodlit, we turned down a muddy track towards this house when we were accosted by a man with a shot gun who called to us……..

“Are you lost” he asked

“No, we just wanted to look at this beautiful mansion.” we replied, Keith mentioned in fun something about it could be a ‘Youth Hostel’

“No, but we can arrange for an overnight stay if you wish…..” said the man. By this time we were close up and I suddenly realised we were in conversation with Lord Hume, Prime Minister at that time. We told Lord Hume where we had left the family, he laughed and said you had better get back quickly. What a gentleman, we got back to the main road and proceeded to Perth, but by now it was after 11 p.m. and we were locked out of the hostel - Jean had to open a window for us. Keith and I considered a possible conversation when we got back to Long Eaton

‘What did you do over the weekend?’

‘Oh, went to a football match in Preston, visited a relative in Scotland, had a trip round Loch Lomand, the Road to the Isles, Glenshee, Balmoral and Braemar and stopped the night with the Prime Minister’ we decided against it as we didn’t think anyone would believe us!!

We drove home the next day going via Edinborough and the two famous bridges then on the M8 to south of Glasgow and so home on the Tuesday night. The Vauxhall “Cresta” ran like a dream, the fastest car I have ever driven apart from Bill Henshaws “E” type Jaguar.

#058 - 1957 - Lake District

In the winter of 1957 brother-in-law Keith and I had a long weekend in the Lake District and again we stayed with Mrs Edmunds at Walloway Farm. On this particular day we had a leisurely large breakfast then drove to Keswick leaving the car at Seathwaite. We set off up the Langtrath crossing the stream in the valley to make our way up Bow Fell. We had broken every rule in the ‘fell walking’ book that day,

1) we had not told Mrs Edmunds or anyone else where we were going,

2) we set off too late in the day

3) we had no provisions other than a light lunch

4) No compass or torch

The only thing we had got right was our clothing and boots.

We climbed Bow Fell and ate our packed lunch at Angle Tarn, we then continued to Eskhause – our intention being to go to Buttermere but we somehow finished up hopelessly lost on Scarfell Pike. We had earlier seen a lone walker crossing a stream and we called to each other exchanging cordial greetings, we were to read in the local paper a couple of days later that a man – a doctor - had died on that day, lost the same as us. From the description given we realised that it was the same man we had called to!!

By now it was almost dark, we followed the stone cairns but even then we seemed to be going round in circles, we eventually found ourselves back at Angle Tarn, and in the distance we could see the large well lit window – shining like a beacon for fools such as us - at the Dungeon Gill Hotel. We came down Rossett Gill which was no mean task at night. We walked in the pub where - without a word - some walkers we had seen descending hours ago, bought us double rum each, we had two more rums then we rang Mrs Edmunds who obviously was out of her mind. It was now past 9 p.m.

Mr Edmunds set off on the long drive over the Kirkstone pass, through Ambleside and so on to the Dungeon Gill Hotel where he picked us up, drove to Keswick and on to Seathwaite to pick up our car. When we got back to the farm a full dinner was ready for us as well as pewter pots filled with whiskey and waiting for a red hot poker to be inserted. How well they treated us, I stayed in bed the next day as I had damaged by knee badly (again).We did walk the day after but on the flat this time to the beautiful village of Whatendleth, only walking up to view the memorial and the panoramic setting of wonderful Derwent Water. We sat for a while contemplating what might have been and how damned lucky we were not to be – at least – injured or at worst deceased! We had more respect next time............

The gymnasium class was still successful, in fact so many coming we had to run two classes, one at Roper School and one at the Secondary Modern. We also had a good basket ball team and we challenged Long Eaton basket ball team to a match. We easily beat them and the poor sports would not play us again, they did not fancy being beaten by a load of cyclists.

#040 - 1953 - Trips and Holidays

I was still managing to race performing reasonably well in the two Track Leagues at Derby and Nottingham. But the business curtailed training time, although as a family we were going walking on Sundays mainly in the Peak District especially to the Kinder Scout area. On one particular Sunday we came to Hope and found a rough track going up Win Hill, the track on the map looked as though we could get to the Snake Pass, we opened several gates, the track getting ever narrower so nearly at the top the track was too rough to negotiate.

To turn round I had to put on full lock, drive to the edge of a precipice, then Carol, Jean and brother in law Keith pushed the van sideways as it skidded on the wet grass. We left the van there and walked up Crookstone Knoll then round Kinder downfall and so returning to the van for our lunch. Halfway thro lunch, a party of ramblers came up from the direction of the Snake Pass, on passing us one of them kept looking round at us in the van. After passing us about 100yds he came running back towards us, I opened the window to speak to him when he said “how the b……. hell have got up here in that” he could not envisage we had turned the van round because it did look as if we had come up from the Snake - what a laugh we had.

Easter that year found Carol, Keith, his son David and I staying in a farm in the vale of Llanberris. We did not leave Long Eaton until after 7 o’clock and so arrived at the farm late, the family were in bed and we had to exist in the car all night until the farmer’s wife luckily got up early and cooked us breakfast seemly to be upset that she had not waited up for us. We left after breakfast to Llanberris leaving the car near the mountain railway station, at that time it looked like a Swiss cottage in its natural wood (I was to visit here in 1990 and I saw to my regret that the building had been painted hideously in red and blue). We walked up Snowdon on the railway path, this was our first walk in the mountains and we had ordinary clothes, Sports coat and flannels and raincoats, it rained and blew all the way up, when we reached the top all was deserted - even the café looked closed and we were all about shattered. Anyway I tried the Café door and it opened what a sigh of relief there was. We were the first up there, we stripped off our wet clothes and hung them up to dry. Whist we were doing this in walked three “puka” climbers kitted out in all the latest gear - said to the Café owner “We are first up again then” and on seeing us they exclaimed “is the railway running ?” No, we chorused , we felt quite proud. On the descent it rained all way, the clouds were well down so we had no views at all. At the bottom the van was on the other side of the river so to miss about 1 mile detour we walked through the river - we could not get any wetter. On our return to the farm the wife fed us superbly and also lent us dry clothes. It was still early so we had a look at Snowdon Ranger youth hostel then on to Cricceith Castle, the sun came out and the scenery was super.

Later in 1953 we entered a road race at Esholt Park between Leeds and Bradford , the trusty Morris getting us there. The course was about 3 miles round with one fairly steep hill of 6oo yards, the back straight wended its way through a sewage farm, the huge flies and the smell was revolting, the race was won by Brian Haskell with his Huddersfield R.C. winning the team, we were well down vowing never to ride there ever again.

October 1953 saw us in the old Bedford Van having accepted an invitation by the Huddersfield R.C. to attend their annual dance, this was held in the Town Hall in Huddersfield, Bill Henshaw and Dennis Thomas and I were invited and we each stayed at various members homes, Bill with Tom Oldfield and Dennis Thomas and I with Gran Hayley. We were late getting there as going over the moors we had electrical trouble with the van. - no lights or ignition, luckily we had a coil of light wire which we connected to the positive terminal on the battery then to the positive on the HT coil, much to our amazement the van started. After a good night at the dance we remembered we had entered the Huddersfield R,C. hill climb that started at Holmfirth to finish near the T.V. mast at the top of Holme Moss, after the dance the night before we were in no shape to do a ride and it was no surprise that we all packed before the summit. The van behaved perfectly on the way home over Strines moor then past Derwent dams and so home. We finished 1953 by doing many long Sunday runs, two of them over the Snake Pass.

#035 Wolloway Farm

On the Sunday after Eire, Bill and I had entered a race in Derbyshire, it started in Macclesfield, I cannot remember the name of the event but it finished in Bollington. I had a practice run of the hill i.e. “Cat and Fiddle” and thought I’ve had it to day. The race started and “mountain goat” Brian Haskle jumped away and I did not see the break anymore that day, did I struggle. I vowed to finish though I was not going through the ignominy of Ireland again. I climbed at my own pace up the “Cat and Fiddle” then through Buxton where at Burbage my cousins gave me a cheer. Eric Thompson was on Taddington Hill cheering me on, then I caught one or two riders through Bakewell and then Baslow, up to Peak Forest, Mam Tor down to Whaley Bridge, then we seemed to go over a small river bridge and up in front on the left at top of a hill there was a huge crowd I thought they were watching a motor cycle hill climb. We turned left and there was the hill!! What a climb, I think they use this as the National hill climb sometime. The finish soon hove in sight I was in the car and off “buggered”.

In Whitsuntide of that year we decided to go to the Lake District. Bas Butler had given me an address near Penruddock just north of Ullswater. We left Long Eaton at 6.30pm going to Scotch Corner then over Bowes Moor to Appleby and so to Penrith (no M6 then). We rang Mrs Edmunds up to get to know just where we were and she said keep on the A66 until the second railway bridge then turn left to Wolloway Farm, we found the farm about midnight, Mrs Edmunds had waited up for us. We were in our Ford “Transit” van. Keith was camping in it with his two lads, Mrs Edmund had a fit as she had only room for three and had seen six get out the van. We soon put her mind at rest; we were made very welcome with supper soon provided - all home made food. Up next morning early we had a sumptuous breakfast in front of a lovely fire, we had found “Shangri-La”. We picked Keith up and travelled down to Ullswater, what a view of Ullswater one find the first time near to Aera Force we stopped and admired the view. We stopped at the side of Ullswater it was a lovely hot day. We left the children playing in the water, Keith and I planning to climb Hellvelyn, but it was too hot so we sunbathed all day instead. It was soon lunchtime, Keith was supposed be in charge of camping, I think we had one cup, one fork and one spoon between us - did we laugh.

Jean, Carol and I were lucky as we had an evening meal booked and what a meal, meat and potato pie, suet pudding - absolutely marvellous. Before that we had met Mrs Edmunds family, they had two boys and two girls all similar age to our families, their family was to increase to five boys. We played cricket on the grass at the front of the farm, tip and run all the family played, mums and dads a well. We had found a place where we were to go every chance we had for years hence, the whole family becoming close friends (John, one of their sons, and his new wife was to spend part of their honeymoon with Kathleen & I many years later) Bas who had given us the address could never get in again, we almost commandeered the place.

Late in 1952 the gymnasium was going through a rough time, the instructor, a new man was more interested in a student girl teacher than us and he had the sack. I decided to go to the education committee to see if I could run the class myself. Sure enough for three years it was run as a night school class at Bramcote Hills School, Beeston. We had a good turn out having Ian Hallam grace us at certain times. After three years we reverted back to Long Eaton where we ran two classes - one at Roper school and one at the Grammar school, we also formed a club called the Long Eaton Velo a multi sports club which was to continue until this year 2000. High fee, imposed by Derbyshire County Council being the root cause, it has now ceased, so a gym class formed in 1933 has gone the way of many other pre-war innovations.

#030 Work and Racing

Our business was still prospering and we enlarged the shop, sales of bikes and motorcycles and parts were increasing all the time. I personally had to change my riding habits from track to road racing. Training for me was difficult often going out in my "boiler suit" and work boots. I was still competing in the Nottingham Track League but not riding well at all due to the lack of training. During these early post-war years two more local clubs appeared - one is still going strong i.e. Long Eaton "Paragon" C.C. this club was formed by a group of cyclists who all had "Paragon" bikes made by that great frame builder Andy Bone of Arkwright Street, Nottingham, I can’t at this stage remember these riders, boys and girls but if I eventually do I’ll append them.

Early one season when Tommy Crowther was in charge of the road team, the club were running a 50 mile Time Trial and Tom was using the peformances in this as a yard stick for the forthcoming event to be held on Nottingham Forest, Norman Casswell and I decided to have a private time trial starting 5mins behind the "field". We rode our track bikes Norman rode 82" fixed and I had on 92". We were (for us) on real top form and finished in the event well under two hours. We, with Bill Henshaw, Alan Prentice, Norman, Alan Salt and Ken Minski formed the team. Early stages seemed great to me it was like riding on the track, that hill came round a few times to many though. On one of the sprints to the top of the hill , I saw Ken Minski sprint to the front, he rounded the bend at the top then for some unknown reason he missed the turn and ran straight in to a wooden form breaking his front forks, luckily he wasn’t to badly hurt. The tale goes that he had bought the frame from Mercian Cycles (Tom Crowther then) the day before. He took his frame back on the Monday to get it replaced under Guarantee!.

The Concorde lads wiped this event up winning all four first places. Norman and I finished well down but Bill Henshaw was fifth, Alan Salt and Alan Prentice also finished but we missed out on the Team award. Also riding well at the time and also to represent England and be top class proffessionals came the Huddersfield R.C. if my memory is correct they had Brian and Des Robinson,Ted Penvose, Brian Haskell, Gran Hayley and Tom Oldfield. 1950 eventually came round, by this time my daughter was two so I fitted a rear seat on my track bike and with her in it we did many miles, we also been talked into walking, going up Kinderscout most weekends taking Carol in a Carradice kiddy haversack.

Still trying to race and run the business, there was very little free time, but we did manage a week in Great Yarmouth in August, we got fixed in a house near the docks the arrangements which were quite common in the late "forties" the idium was rooms and service i.e. one paid for the rooms, bought your own food as required which the landlady cooked and did the washing up and cleaning, I do not remember the cost but it was "peanuts".

#023 Track Success and touring in Devon

After the funeral that was held at St Johns Baptist Church in Clumber Street, life gradually returned to normal. Dad was eventually able to take our track team to a mid-week event held at Heckington in Lincolnshire, the day was a real carnival, with a horse gymkhana and “Chase Water Charlie” from Chase in Staffs performed all sorts of tricks on a very small motor cycle. As the car was full i.e. Ernie, “Blos Catchpole, Dave Holmes and my wife Jean and all the bikes and wheels, Norman Casswell and I borrowed a 25Occ S.V motor bike from our stock, it was a pre-war model with girder forks so we had a very bumpy ride. We arrived well in time to try out the track, it was very small - five laps to a mile - with banking on the corners and for grass it was fast. All the Yorkshire good grass men had entered, it looked as though we were in for a tough time.

Norman Casswell advised us the gear to ride, he suggested 82” this is high for grass, but the weather had been good and the track was hard. We all won our heats in the ½ mile handicap, and subsequently all eliminated in the semi-finals. In the mile scratch I won my heat and semi-final and with great excitement was in the final. We had tea in the tent before the final, this was supplied to all competitors and friends, also having tea was Arthur Maxfield, Bill Brodsworth, Jack Atkinson and Brian Thorpe all good Yorkshire trackmen. I overheard them discussing how they were going to beat me. Came the final, using the same tactics as Norman had instilled on me at Burton previosly, I managed to beat Jack Atkinson by half a wheel. We had a fine old time in the “Beer tent” and with a few pints inside us we departed hilariously on the B.S.A. Dad followed behind in the pre-war Morris 8 series “E”, this car took us all over England.

Later that year, the last week in July to be exact Jean and I borrowed a “Sun” tandem from Reenie and Arthur Wild quite a heavy model with rear pedal footbrake (designed pr-war by my Dad) front brake was British Hub Co., hub brake gears were Cyclo 3speed.

We had been invited by one of my Dads army mates to stay with them one night at Highbridge that is on the A38 just this side of Bridgewater. We set off about 7am going via Ashby, Measham, Coleshill, Kenilworth, Warwick, Stratford, Evesham then Cirencester and on to Bristol. By this time Jean had “had it” there was a Leatheries saddle fitted to the rear seat and this had gone like “wash leather” I swapped the B17 from the front and she was then O.K .We had tea at Bristol near the Airport at the top a hill near a reservoir. Jean was in a bad state so we stayed there for bed & breakfast we were only 15 mile from our destination, we could not let our friends know as phones were non-existant. We arrived at about 11 a.m. and dads friends seemed very upset at our non-arrival the previous night. We had lunch then cycled over to Burnham-on-Sea returning to have dinner with the less than amicable friends.

We left next morning, travelling via Taunton,Axminster and then down to Sidmouth where we stayed at a B & B place. We had a look round Sidmouth admiring its sandy beach and scenic sanstone and chalk cliffs. We had a swim before returning to breakfast on freshly caught mackeral. Leaving Sidmouth, climbing the steep hill out of town, we travelled along the coast road to our lunch stop at Beer Head, ever onwards to our next B & B at Lymme Regis, We found a brilliant palce to eat – a ‘British Restaurant’ set up during the war as cheap eating places for the workers, and this one was still operating. A 3 course meal could be had for 3s 6p (17½ p) we were happy to stay here for 2 days before making our way home. We had some excitement though., coming down a steep hill between Evesham and Stratford, a lorry was heading straight for us on the wrong side of the road – with our brakes we had no chance! On the side of the road and standing in a line, there was 3 Stanton concrete pipes – about 6ft in dianeter. I aimed through these, heart in mouth, and came out the other side. That was a close call.

We eventually arrived home on Friday night, the next day being ‘August Bank Holidayy’ Saturday. Long Eaton Urban District were holding a cycle & athletic meeting on West Park, I had entered but didn’t fancy my chances after the tandem episode. However, in front of a massive crowd I managed to clear the board by winning all 3 races, and was my dad proud! Later that same year he was to see me win the hillclimb – a perfect way to end the season.

The annual Club Dinner that year was held jointly with Derby Mercury at the Pavillion Hotel on Station Road (now closed) and proved to be one of the most successful and boisterous dinners I had been to. In 1946 there were no ‘drink & drive’ rules so it would be an understatement to say everyone was happy. Alan Salt masterminded the raffle which was a financial success – he was selling the counrtfoil as well! We had several inter club ‘do’s’ at that time with Derby Mercury, a very successful dance being held at the Blue Ball, Risley in early 1947.

#020 Married Life

I managed to win the Nottingham track league once again in 1944, in October Jean and I married so I missed the hillclimb. Getting married was a cultural shock to me, going from a close family background and a high living standard - (I am not a snob) – and moving to a council house where my wife lived, looking after her four brothers, the youngest being 12. Her father who was bedridden lived in the front room; her mother had died some 7 years previous. Food was rationed at the time and the arguments we had over that were unbelievable. Eventually we settled down, I biked to work from there (Longmoor Lane, Breaston). I used an old bike for work and - as I had stored my racing bike - my wife thought I had packed up! She had quite a shock when I started training again at the gym and on the road on Sundays.

Towards the end of 1944 I tried to settle down to married life but found life very boring and finding it difficult to stay in after a lifetime of going on club runs Sundays. I resumed my gym twice a week introducing my brother- in- law Keith to this life, so fitness for cycle racing was still in my mind. Early in 1945 my bike was brought out. I checked it all over and started training with the chain gang, which started from our shop front at 7 p.m. One particular night that year sticks out more than any - that was the night that the future Commonwealth Games champion came out with us for the first time, we went up Donington hill and the “Stairs” towards Ashby. I dropped Ray Booty on the “Stairs”, he never forgave me. (In 1955 I was picked as mechanic for my first International assignment for England. Ray was in the team and on the first day in Prague he asked me to go out training with him, he tore me apart and when I caught them up at a roadside monument - representing the furthest advance of General Patton in 1944-. Ray announced that he got his own back for “dropping him on that same club training spin some 10 years previous, he’s like an elephant!).

My father-in-law had a small win on the pools, £125 to be exact, he wanted a car and his eldest son Douglas found one - a Morris 12/4 in. good condition apart from the tyres, the garage said they would see to them. These tyres were 5.00X19 and at that time were unobtainable, so they fitted second hand. I took my father-in-law out for his first ride, the month was January, and he sat at the back. With topcoat and scarves and a hot water bottle we had moved 20 yds, the nearside rear window was slightly open, a young boy threw a snowball at us, it went through the small aperture of the window and hit my father-in-law on the chest, what a good start.

The following Sunday the whole family decided to go to Skegness, it seems unbelievable now but none of them had seen the sea. We set off early, it was bitterly cold, and we went through Grantham, Boston, on the long straight in to Donnington a loud explosion occurred, the nearside tyre had blown off the rim. On examination we found a patch had been stuck on the inside of the tyre, this had caught on the inside wing arch causing the blowout. We changed the wheel, as this one was useless, we had seven deflations on the way to Skegness! Every one of them was a tyre off chore, what a good job I had brought tyre levers and a large tube of solution plus a 36” roll of Dunlop patching, and we used the lot. Skegness was at its usual winter best, we stayed about an hour then returned home only having one puncture.

The shop was getting busier, parts were becoming a little easier to obtain (1945) and I had written to our pre war suppliers of motorcycles especially BSA, Triumph & Royal Enfield. Replies were received stating that when the war finished they would consider giving us an Agency. Late in 1945 my father-in-law died and the eldest boy left home to get married.

#009 Devon and an introduction to Cider

Clinic was still being attended, a great day being when the plaster casts were cut off, but as before the only trouble was having to learn to walk again, I was terribly upset by the thinness of my calves, so I was pleased when I was fitted with long trousers. At fourteen my schooling came to an end, I had still kept up with my cycling and had made a friend of a Stan Tysoe. He was a year older than me, as my school finished at the end of July 1936 and August Bank holiday was just after, he suggested we go on a cycle tour to Devon Somerset, (he was unfortunately killed at Heliopolis in 1941 serving in the RAF). Dad and Mum were going on holiday that same week to Cornwall, so they offered to give us a lift to Bridgwater. This was a big help. We left Long Eaton at 6am, no M5 in those days, but A38 all the way. Embracing Birmingham, Worcester Gloucester and Bristol and so on to Bridgwater. I can't remember what time we left but we arrived in Minehead around evening time, we had budgeted for Bed and Breakfast at 4/6d (22p) we found a place which also provided evening meal for 3/6 so we had that too.

We were up and away early next morning the weather being perfect, bound for Porlock and Lynemouth, on the way we were “caught” by two Manchester lads who were on a similar tour to so we joined forces. Our first obstacle was Porlock Hill, as some may know the road leaves Porlock on a gradual gradient for about a mile then turns sharp right. The gradient is about 1 in 3 immediately, as we were only on 69-inch fixed gear with one brake, we dismounted on the apex of the bend. Cars were coming up to the bend in the wrong gear and stalling, the first one after our stop asked for a push, which we gladly gave the people in the car, they then threw us their loose change out of the car windows. Naturally we stopped there most of the day earning quite a large sum each albeit a bit heavy in our saddlebags. For this reason we only made it to Lynemouth, which is only 21 miles from Minehead; we were able to join the Y.H.A it was only a shilling per night (5p) and the same for dinner and breakfast and 4p for a sheet sleeping bag. The minimum age for joining at that time was 16 but we wangled this (I was 14).

After the evening meal the Manchester lads decided to explore the town and we went along, we tried the lift from Lynemouth to Lynton the Manchurians (who were older than us at least 17) and had been at work for 3 years, asked to go in a Pub. I said I didn't drink, after all we had only just left the Band of Hope (i.e. an anti‑drink concern very prevalent pre‑war). Anyway we entered and I said I would have lemonade, no said the Manchurians “try the sweet cider its great”, thereupon I was given a pint of cider and sure enough I liked it and had two more. The time was now 9‑30 p.m. and curfew time was 10 p.m. at the hostel. Any later and you were locked out and they were very strict on this. Anyway I stood up to go and fell flat on my face, my knees buckled and I had to be carried back, a good start to my introduction to Pubs. On returning to the hostel we entered the common room where a riotous singsong was in progress till 11 p.m. ‑ then cocoa and so to bed.

The next morning after breakfast we had our duties which for us was washing up for about 90 people or it seemed like that, we left about 10 a.m. on the way to Bampton youth hostel which is in North Devon ‑ and the problem of the Quantock Hills, the problem being to us at any rate was that these hills seemed to be 4 miles up but only 1 mile down!! On arrival at the hostel the warden told us that the main hostel was full and we would have to stay in the barn. The only spaces left were top bunks - three tier models ‑ quite a job to climb up and especially difficult to negotiate if one had to go to the toilet trying not to stand on the other two occupants heads.

All went well at Bampton, we did our morning duties then packed our bags and off towards a place we had been told not to miss - Clovelly. We arrived there OK but couldn't get accommodation, someone recommended us to try Higher Clovelly (now a large Car Park). Sure enough an old couple in a terraced cottage put us up, the price being 5/6 B & B and evening meal. What a lovely place Clovelly was in those days, we spent our time rowing (we were taught sea rowing by the local fishermen who we had played dominoes with in the Pub and yes, I had grown very accustomed to the sweet cider by then). We swam and really had a good time. On the second day we were there we were negotiating the steep steps down to the beach when just in front of us a lady fell, she was obviously in pain having injured her right leg, so we bound both her legs together (a la Boy Scouts). We borrowed a stretcher from the Lifeboat station and via the donkey path we carried her up to Higher Clovelly where we rang for an ambulance. The lady was overjoyed and cordially invited us for lunch at her house in Taunton on our way home the next day. You may be wondering why we had to negotiate the donkey path in Clovelly, the reason being that since 1926 no motor vehicles were allowed down the steps.

We left Clovelly on the Friday morning arriving at Taunton at the appointed hour of l p.m., actually we had a job to find the house going by it a few times because we were not expecting a mansion with a long wooded drive up to it. However we rang the bell and a uniformed butler opened the door and asked our business. We informed him whereupon he said we were expected, but would we change our clothes, he was really put out when we informed him that what we had on was all we had. The lady was really a Lady and made us feel at home, we had never seen so many knives and forks but we got through OK

After leaving Taunton we had a long wet ride to Batheaston youth hostel. One of the Manchurians fell in the then tramlines in Bath. The next day Saturday, we were on the road to Worcester we stayed at Holt Mill youth hostel, here we parted our ways with the Manchester lads ‑ we going on the A38 – and we were all miserable to part , but strangely enough we never corresponded with them. Stan and I had a terrible ride home in rain and wind, but the sense of achievement was really good, we had done it under our own power.

#007 Monsal Dale and Blackpool

Later on that year in September, Dad and I went on our bikes to Monsal Dale for a week’s holiday. Dad had an uncle who farmed at Monsal Head and Great Longstone. What a thrill it was to bike 40 miles with Dad who obviously had to push me some of the way. We had a marvellous week there culminating at the weekend with a trip to Blackpool Illuminations, the trip was organised by Great Longstone choir (it was their annual outing), two people had dropped out so Dad and I were invited to fill be vacant places. We caught the train at Great Longstone station (closed by Dr Beeching), walking the 4 miles from Monsal Head, we changed trains at Manchester (as far as I know this is now the G Max exhibition centre). As we neared Blackpool, dad asked me to look out of the window to see Blackpool Tower, this tower had the impression of moving from side to side of the carriage as the track snaked.

Blackpool was a real treat for me, every tram and every building was lit up ‑ even the Tower had a searchlight on top. We eventually caught the train back home, unfortunately the train only stopped at Monsal Dale station so it was a long climb to Monsal Head.

We left there on Monday and biked over to Sheffield, where my dad’s brother Sam entertained us. On the following day we had a tour round the famous Vickers Steel works at Attercliffe ‑ seeing all the drop forging plants and the foundry filled me with wonder. During the time we were at Sheffield, or actually the suburb of Firth Park, my cousin and I walked through Pitsmoor and then climbed up Wincobank Hill, quite a good view of Sheffield could be obtained from there. (It has now been built over). The real reason for our wanting to top this view point, was to see the World War I sites for anti aircraft gun and searchlight posts, parts of which were still there, for us 7 & 9 year old it was quite something. Uncle Norman from Long Eaton who was the proud owner of an Austin Seven collected dad and me from Firth Park, the bikes tied to the rear luggage rack.

On pre-war visits to my cousins at Firth Park in Sheffield we would visit Owlerton Stadium where Sheffield Blue Socks played Baseball, this game was very popular around 1936. On one particular night Boston Red Sox from America where playing Sheffield Blue Socks and starring in the Boston team was the legendary figure of “Babe” Ruth the finest player the world had ever seen. He was at the end of his career reduced to playing demonstration games. We were honoured to see him play he ran two “home” runs that night the crowd where ecstatic.

On future visits to our Uncle at Monsal Head we marked a diamond out on their large lawn then played with a broom handle as bat and a tennis ball. My two brothers and I would cycle up to Monsal Head on most Easter and Whit bank holidays our cousin Maurice would meet us there having cycled over from Sheffield. How my Aunt was able to feed us, I’ll never know as she had no inkling we were coming, we would stop at least three days and all their family i.e. two lads and two girls played baseball with us a great time was had by all.