Hullo Old Home

[brian daley]

6



Sharpness had a collection of eccentrics among the staff ,Codeine Annie , Popeye, Mr .Poore , he was like a sinister Alfred Hitchcock , but they were as nothing when compared to Ginger Reeves and Mr. Agate ,note that Mister no,nicknames there . He was a committed Christian with a wry sense of humour . A bit like Jacques Tatis Monsieur Hulot ,he would ride around the camp on an old upright bicycle singing hymns at the top of his voice .He was'nt a tyrant but was strict nevertheless . The boys liked him enough to sing scurrilous songs about him"We're gonna join,We're gonna join , We're gonna join Old Agates Navy, Up at six o'clock, Marching round the block, Dirty big icicles hanging from your C**k,etc,etc..."
Old Agate used to have enthusiasms ,he organised a dance in the village hall ,we lads were ordered to attend or else!! It was Saturday night and we spent extra time on our appearance, okay, so it was'nt going to be the Locarno ,but who knows what ladies Mr. Agate might rustle up ? Hobnail boots agleaming , berets tilted at the right angle ,ties in neat windsors ,and creases you could shave with ,we strode forth to charm the girls of Sharpness ,who knows what the night might bring ?
The hall was up one of the little streets ,more like a chapel than a dance hall ,but we could hear Connie Francis singing Who's Sorry Now so it was not going to be George Formby and Gracie Fields as some of us had feared .When our little group entered the hall we found it was full to the brim. With other Vindi boys!!
There was little girl of about 8 playing with her hula hoop, another girl ,about 12 ,she was operating the Dansette record player ,and two very mature ladies standing by a tea urn and a table full of tea cakes !
"Come on boys!!" Mr Agate ordered ,"Get up and get dancing, you ,boy ,you take him and dance over there ,and you boys too ! Come on you have got to enjoy yourselves !!" we gaped at each other , "Come on Daley ,you dance with Higgins !"
In pretty short order he had us all doing the quick step with each other. Some of the lads were queuing up to dance with the old ladies rather be forced to dance with each other. And there was no escape, Old Agate stood at the door to make sure of that!
Still the tea and cakes were nice.
Ginger Reeves was like a cross between Yosemite Sam and Popeye the sailor.
Red haired and red faced , hardly a tooth in his head and a mouth full of the saltiest language ever, he could have compiled a dictionary of oaths . He would split words ,inserting a Fack as in Yesterfacking day and so on. He was funny in a scurrillous way and never funnier ,albeit unconsciously , at the Sunday service when............... Well this is what happened ,as I have already told you ,the Catholics used the Sportshall for their service and we Anglicans followed them. It was while we were waiting for the Vicar to proceed to the altar and we were settling in our seats the organist had not yet started to play and all was silent, the hushed beginnings of a Sunday at prayer, when ,into that holy silence some boy(not me ) let go with an enormous ,trouser ripping fart!!!! There was a stunned silence , and then Ginger sprang from his seat and roared "This is a bleedin’ church not a bleedin ablution!!" (very heavily sanitized version)
The entire congregation of boys shrieked with laughter ,Ginger was choking with rage ,the organist struck up with Soldiers of Christ Arise and on came the Reverend and his altar boys. It was awhile before we could settle down ,and even the vicar was suppressing a giggle. Poor old Ginger ,you could feel the heat of his blush five rows back.


Now , as to the Brigadiers son , his parents had played a lousy trick on him, they had given him the same forename as his surname ,not a good thing to do to a lad who is going to go to a sea school ! WW , as we shall call him, became a victim from the first moment he stepped onto the camp ,and, as a consequence he was in that boxing ring every week , sparring it out with his latest tormentor .It was'nt too long before he became quite proficient in the noble art and started to lay out a few of his tormentors .
He demeanour changed and he soon became a well respected boy ,you did'nt mess with WW any more. I've often wondered what his parents thought when he got home, thicker set and able to face any man.
And then there was Squeak , he was a Northerner ,from somewhere in the Pennines , his voice had'nt broken yet and he still had that squeaky timbre that pre-teens have. He was tall and skinny and had a gawky way of walking , but he had a good sense of humour. A catering trainee , he often served us lads and came in for a lot of good natured wigging ,but that voice , it was awful!! One night we had a concert and ,during the sing song, we were singing Carolina Moon ,when we became aware of this high pitched sound amongst us ,it was Squeak, almost as though a signal had been given ,all of the boys stopped singing and left Squeak to do a solo . Which he did ,with all the aplomb of a professional !.It was unique , a sound so awful yet entertaining too. Like WW , Squeak was a ring regular for a little while ,he too learned to dish it out .
Colin the Lydney lad was given permission to go home for a weekend after we had passed our Lifeboat exam, we were green with envy ,it would be more than two months before we saw our folks again. The week before he went our class had had a group photograph taken , there we were ,on the top deck of the Vindi ,standing at the rail with the bridge in the background . Smart as paint in our full uniforms .
When Colin returned to camp, he handed out to certain of us lads who were on his photograph, the names and addresses of some of the girls he knew back at his home. They had seen the photograph and asked Colin to put them in touch with the boys they had chosen to write to . I was pleased as punch when he gave me the address of my pen pal. Miss Maureen Stratford, near the Stag Inn,Yorkley, near Lydney,Glos.
From that day , and for near two years ,she and I exchanged letters . She filled many lonely hours with words from home, through her I gained a picture of village life ,we were not having a romance ,we were pen friends in the truest sense . I often wonder how life turned out for her , I lost track of her in the early sixties ,she went off to college in London and I was roving the world.

Those hobnailed boots of ours took a lot of pounding .We marched every day , P.E first thing ,get changed, get on the square and then get marching. Some of the lads had two left feet and never got to grips with it , when were you going to march on a boat? So some of them just went through the motions , others gave it everything they had . Ramrod straight , snapping to attention like a guardsman and cracking off a salute like a veteran. Those of us who could do that were formed into a squad and were given extra training , we did'nt know what for ,we did'nt care because it kept us off the labour squad . Gradually we were whittled down to a group of twenty , and we were marching for a couple of hours a day. Mr. Turner was our trainer , he was hard ,I suppose he needed to be because we were raw ,but within a week we could wheel and turn with the best. Alongside of this we were doing our seamanship course now , some of us had won our red stars for our lifeboat test ,if you won one for your seamanship, you were guaranteed a promotion to Bosuns mate ,or Bosun, or ,if you were amazingly good ,Camp Bosun! I was so eager to impress my parents ,particularly Dad ,he'd been an NCO in the army and had never let me forget it ,I'd show him. Well I got that star!! All it needed now was for the existing bosuns to leave and create vacancies for us new two star men .
But, fate had something else in store for some of us?..all that marching , it had'nt been just for show, we were going to London ,to march in front of the Queen!

,