A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
Sunday Dinner on The Beach
I remember when I was 12ish and we had Sunday Dinner on the beach. Well it was more on the promenade than the beach. As I have already described, opposite the Clock Tower was a set of steps and as high tide lapped the top of the steps we and the other kids would spend our whole day in the sun swimming and jumping off the railings into the water. Lou Tritten (wife of Sid Tritten who was to go blind), one of our waitresses, was sent over the road carrying a tray laden with our Sunday dinner with ice cream and my mother's apple pie for dessert. We couldn't believe our eyes, or our luck!
Beneath the burning Herne Bay sun we tucked in to roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast and boiled potatoes, carrots, and cabbage, with thick brown gravy. It was an act of sheer indulgence. We were the envy of all the gang of children that jumped and sprang and swam and sang on that summer's day in August in the mid 50's. Oh how they wished their parents owned a restaurant on Herne Bay's seafront.
Years later I learned the real reason why we had that treat, not that my parents regretted it or denied our pleasure. It was a Bank Holiday Sunday in August and wet feet and swimming costumes going up and down the restaurant stairs when we were chocker-block with customers would never do.
So a decision was made that burned itself into our memories, burned itself so deep that each and every one of us, Melly, Kevin, and I (Josie was working in the restaurant) remember it to this day some 45 years later.
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