HERNE BAY
The Little Restaurant on the Prom
A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
Hampton Pier
Hampton pier stuck out as a ruined jumble of rock. It had fallen into decay long before I was born. It was joined to a wide, concrete, rectangle of masonry with railings all the way round. Joined to this was a series of steps. You got to the pier by way of a very steep hill, Hampton Hill, a continuation of Herne Bay's promenade. At the bottom of the hill was a pub called The Hampton. From the Sea Scouts hall, all the way to Herne Bay, was a series of Beach Huts. BORING! BORING! BORING!
Ah, but then there were the boating pools. The boating pools consisted of two pools of water, one for rowing boats and one for, wait for it, MOTOR BOATS. Now they weren't fast motor boats. Oh no. But they were faster than the rowing boats and had real petrol engines in them. But they cost two shillings (10p) a ride. That was four weeks pocket money! Now the thing to do was 'make friends' with the operator: go to the café and get him cups of tea. Clean his bike. Get him an ice cream. And then…and then, maybe, just maybe, he would let you have a free ride!
Thing was, EVERY kid was his friend. They wouldn't leave him alone! ''Clean yer bike, mister? Want anyfing from the café, mister? Want an ice cream, mister?'' And so on. By the time we'd finished with him he told everybody to ''Bugger off, yer little bleeders, and leave me alone!'' Sometimes, when he was really mad he told us to ''Fuck off, or I'll report you to the Council.'' That was guaranteed to work. Being reported to the Council was like being reported to the Police!
[Photo: Harold Gough]
Hampton Boating Lake. “Come in number 7, your time is up!”
Now inserting a lolly-stick in the crack where you knew the money lay, was to bleed the arcade machine dry. It was a couple of weeks before the owner, Mick Ellison, figured out how we did it. We'd slide a discarded lolly-stick in the crack and slide out the pennies. By now word had got round and everybody was at it. And when we had enough cash we paid the Hampton Boat Operator with 24 pennies. A look of suspicion crept over his face like a blush. ''But there areno arcade machines at Hampton,'' he must have thought, ''how do they do it, where do they get that sort of money from?'' The thought was in his eyes, in his teeth, in his hair, everywhere. But why should he care. He just watched us from the bank. ''Come in Number 7. Your time is up!'' We ignored him. Pretended we hadn't heard. ''COME IN, YOU LITTLE BLEEDERS'' he screamed, ''OR I'LL REPORT YOU TO THE COUNCIL!''
[previous] [contents] [next]
[Return to Home Page]
|
