It was in the 1980’s and I was
having a drink with 2 workmates in a pub just outside King’s Lynn in Norfolk, when 2 members of the Salvation Army came in selling their
‘War Cry’ paper. When the lady approached me I enquired about tracing people from years ago. I
then said I had once lived at Laindon and wondered what had happened to a fellow Officer named
Norman Shelley. The Lady then told me that her and her husband also came for Laindon and had
been at that wedding. We got talking and it turned out they were the Barbers who had the shop
at the corner of Almada Avenue and Green Lane. I remained friendly with this couple for a while
and before they moved away from the area. I did admit to them as to what we had done after they
closed their shop, but they forgave us. It was some months later and without warning, they left
the area and I haven’t seen them since. I am sorry because they truly were Lovely people.
Going back to my schooldays and my last year at Markhams Chase, this was in
Miss Last’s class. I remember she used to have a continuous cough. A girl who I think was named
Jennifer, used to get Miss Last a glass of water each time she started coughing. One day
Jennifer was off school and somebody else got the water. When Jennifer returned and Miss Last
started coughing again, there was an argument between these two girls as to who was getting the
water. Miss Last was coughing too much to stop them. In Miss Last’s class, we were encouraged to
write a diary of what we had done either the day before or over the weekend. I remember one lad
whose name was Stephen Chapman, and a regular reader of his diary to the class. I sure wish I
could remember more names from those days. In my entire time at Markhams Chase and when we went
up to the High Road, I remained mates with one pupil in particular. That is Tony James, as I
know him. His real name I was to learn in 2004, is not Tony, but another that I will not
divulge. For some reason, I always thought his birthday to be 26th January. It took until
2004 to find out it is actually on the 28th January. When I left Laindon in 1964, I lost touch
with him, but never really forgot him.
Every Saturday morning if we weren’t at our Grandparents, I would go to the
‘Radion’ with Barry and Martin with whom we played daily seeing as he lived next door to us. I
was mad on Cowboys and Indians (as well as railways) and when the chance arose to enter a
competition to meet my idol Roy Rogers, I so much wanted to win. The winner was to be the
Best-Dressed cowboy one Saturday Morning. I had a lovely cowboy outfit and borrowed an old metal
gun from Martin. It was nothing like a cowboy gun, but then the winner was the late Robert
Riggs, another cowboy fanatic and who was genuinely, the VERY Best-Dressed. I still say that
even today. It was a shock to me though, when in 2004, I learnt that Robert had died of Cancer
in 1997.
I can’t remember the year it all started, but when the Laindon Link was
first cut, we kids used to play nearby so as to watch the men working on the big earthmovers. We
even played on the earth mounds and pretended we were soldiers. I know some of us were playing
at soldiers and throwing lumps of earth as if they were Grenades. That was until such a time
when I got hit smack in the eye by one and ran home again crying my eyes out as the saying goes
because it hurt so much. On one occasion while we were playing, an adder suddenly appeared
from the grass at the same time as Dad came along to get us home for our dinner, so he found a
lump of wood and killed it. He knew I had a fear of snakes, but I can still remember him taking
it away and throwing it well into a field. I can also remember the concrete being put down to
make the road surface and a team of men levelling it out with a long plank with handles either
end and on the sides. This took place between the bottom of Tyler Avenue and Bluehouse Farm
pond where we sometimes went fishing for Sticklebacks.
It was during the summer of I am certain 1957, and I remember the Laindon
Link was by this time open, when my brother Barry, Martin Hale and I went out on our bikes and
instead of just going to the recreation ground in Berry Lane or the station to watch the trains
like we generally did in the summer, we went off to Southend on our own. I left them there and
cycled home again. I was pushing my bike up the incline of Laindon Link from Basildon, when, the
next thing I knew was Mums brother was alongside me on his Lambretta Motor Scooter and asking me
why I was not riding my bike? He ended up putting it across the back, I sat on the pillion
seat, and he took me home. When I got indoors, Mum asked where Barry was. I just casually
replied: ‘Oh I left him in Southend with Martin.’ Boy when I went to bed, my backside was
SORE. My dad gave me about six lashes of his belt.
Laindon High Road Secondary Modern School
Like everybody else, when I attained the age of eleven, I started at Laindon
High Road Secondary Modern School. My Headmaster was Mr. J. H. J. Woodward. Mr. Woodward, was
one very good man and just a matter of two months after starting there, I got into trouble with
the local Police and eventually, it went to Billericay Juvenile Court. Had it not been for the
glowing school report from Mr. Woodward, I don’t think for one minute, I would have got off so
lightly. I got a Conditional Discharge for the crime. I have often wondered what happened to
the ‘Victim’ and since spoken with his Mother. As far as she was aware, the matter was
forgotten about.
My first teacher at the High Road was Miss Jollyman and she made it known
to the entire class, she disliked me. No matter what I did, when I did it, she had to criticise
me and especially my handwriting, when she wrote in RED ink across the entire page of one
book, ‘This is the very worst Handwriting I have EVER seen.’ Then broadcast it to the class. At
the start of the next term, I had been shifted out to a lower class and then my Form-Master was
Mr. Hughes. I can’t remember very much about him, other than that he was on the short side in
height, smoked ‘Senior Service’ cigarettes and taught History. My second year, I was in
Mr. Poole’s class. This man, I had tremendous respect for, as he was the VERY BEST teacher I
ever had at school. I was during my time in his class, the Class Monitor. I next went into
Miss ‘Slapper’ Harris’s class. Miss Harris was nicknamed ‘Slapper’ because if any of the girls
ever did wrong, they were sent to her and she would slap them round the face. My last full term
at the ‘High Road’ was spent in Mrs. Gay’s class and she was a lovely lady.
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