Eddie Studley and his wife were over from Australia, so it seemed a good idea to get the “Boys” together, so seven or us with our wives met at the Cart and Horses and what a good time we had – even the weather was nice and sunny.
We all agreed that we were better off than our Dads and, yes, by the time they were our age, they were no longer with us with the exception of one, so we all felt rather lucky with life (so much for the pills).
Yes, we were the village teenagers of the early 1950s and now the pensioners of the 2000s and thinking back we were not that bad; the vicar lost a few pears and we did leave some raspberries and apples for Mrs Brusson at The Manor House. We were not greedy. Our Mums would lose a few teaspoons as we would bend then to all kinds of shapes in an effort to get birds eggs from the holes in the chestnut trees; it was the fashion those days to have a good collection of birds eggs, no longer allowed these days, I hasten to add.
The meeting point in the 1950s was The Two Brewers corner. There would be as many as twenty of us, all with a bike, while the older ones had motorbikes – AJS, Aerial, BSA and Matchless were the order of the day; no Japanese bikes about then.
The summer months were spent playing football or cricket on The Common among ourselves until the light ran out, then to the Men’s Club for a refreshing drink and maybe, if we were not too knackered, a game of cards, darts or snooker – sport was so much of our entertainment. Saturday was our night out – usually to a dance. The choice was good, Adeyfield Hall, Burton, Guild House, Ovaltine and Watford Town Hall. We would cycle to the Ovaltine, but to any of the others, it would be bus out and Albert’s Taxi home; that was until we could drive, then things were a little better. Some of us met our wives at those venues.
Sundays were a little different; most of use went to evensong at Church or Chapel and then we would crowd into the back room of The Windmill with our Vimto ginger beer or shandy and watch Tommy Trinder in ‘Sunday Night at the London Palladium’. The landlord, Mr Sprake, would come and ask if we required any more drinks “No thanks” was the reply (we couldn’t afford it); we would make the one drink last the evening.
As those teenage years were ebbing out, we began to watch for the postman dropping those call-up papers through the letterbox. It was National Service for us. At 18, we were called to join the services for two years. Some were deferred to complete their apprenticeships, but we all had to go. Did it do us any harm? Only financial and we had little money anyway. Did we learn anything? Yes, discipline and to obey orders without question, and, yes, we all thought it would work wonders with the teenagers of today.
However, some good came out of our reminiscing. After sixty years Charlie Parfit had to admit to Eddy Studley that he was out LBW in the daily school dinner-time cricket match and he was sorry he hit him with the cricket bat, but he knew it would be a couple of weeks before he would get another knock, so “I was reluctant to hand the bat over”. Eddy replied, “Don’t worry Charlie, I got two days off school for that”.
Then the final question was asked- would we like to be a teenager today? The answer was unanimous NO. We made our own fun and had great times, harmed no one and enjoyed ourselves with little money. What more could you ask for.
Village Pensioner