The home I grew up in remains a relatively quiet street that for some time had few cars parked along it. As it was also on a slope this had an advantage when using the go-cart my dad made from wood and recycled pushchair wheels. My shoes were the brakes with a rope to steer by. Exhilarating it was as speed built up as there’s a blind bend at the bottom so always a risk of a collision.
Being neighbours seemed to mean they all knew me even if I was not familiar with all of them. This led to intelligence on activities being challenged directly at times, or passed on to my parents. Mostly respectful there were connections too. The lady next door was head of the kitchen at my primary school. There were friends in the road to play with as well as in nearby streets.
At the top of the road was a field we could spend much time in when the weather was fine. It’s recently been built on with an interesting selection of housing. One activity I was encourage to try was the cubs. My main memory was of some trips out, plus some strange indoor activities that I never really understood. These were the rites that cubs and scouts were expected to do to show respect for each other and the leadership. One experience etched on memory is ‘Bob-A-Job’ week, where to raise money for the scouts we took on jobs in the neighbourhood for a shilling. (A ‘Bob’ was slang for a shilling.) one neighbour asked we to get potatoes from the local greengrocers. They wanted an amount that I hadn’t appreciated and staggered back to our road. Paid a reluctant shilling I returned home to my mums dismay at how long I’d been gone and the weight I carried. The end for cubs for me though was the jumper, it never stopped being itchy.
There were more fun projects too. The men on our side of the road were growing concerned about the state of the alleyway that gave access to the garages at the end of our gardens. It was decided to pave the main access strip with concrete up to the junction at the far end. An architect in the group designed the process and calculated the concrete required. It took a few weekends to prepare the shutter work, then two weekends to lay the concrete. It’s lasted about 50 years I think, so a good job was done by all.
Respect for others locally was important too. A neighbour two doors along had a very elderly grandparent who liked a nap on a Sunday afternoon. So we were asked to play quietly if outside, and we did. Other times though it got boisterous particularly the simple cricket game in our garden, using the apple tree as the wicket and watching mum belt the ball into the neighbours garden. There were sad times too, when a house opposite caught fire as the old lady used candles as she had the electricity turned off. Fuel poverty is likely to strike again as I write, so I hope no one comes to harm as a result of taking such measures.
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