|
(30) by Ron Smith Long
before I became an employee of Joe Lyons I
was familiar with the club at Sudbury near
Greenford, I lived only a short distance
away, our house backed onto the Piccadilly
line.
The mother
of my pal Brian Hawkins worked as a cook
in the Pavilion Restaurant kitchen and we
were able to get in the club when she was
working. I knew several other ways of
gaining entry but when using these we
would have to stay hidden and confine our
activities to the 'dell' the area with a
small stream running through it where we
could watch Kingfishers, between the main
entrance and the farm fields, stretching
right across to the Whitton
Avenue. Grain was grown on the farm
fields, for what purpose I don't know and
the crop would be kept in a stack, no
combine or fancy bailers. One year we
helped take down a stack and were warned
to watch out for rats which would, "go for
your throat if cornered" no truth in it
but it added to the excitement.
The
Manager of the club lived in a house just
inside the main entrance, he drove an
Austin 7, quite something to have a car
then. Remember the pleasant walk from
the gate down to the Pavilion? Past
the many tennis courts, the war
memorials and the two wooden rest refuges
spaced along the way, it was quite a
distance.
After the
war there were some big do's held by the
three services, perhaps for employees
returning from active service and
celebrating the end of hostilities. They
held dances and buffets with cakes that
made our eyes pop. We wheedled our way in
by calling them 'aunty' and 'uncle' and
were rewarded with wedges of cake and
squash to the point of feeling a little
bilious, eyes bigger than our bellies as
mum would say.
The annual
sports day was eagerly looked forward to,
we would go to the fair with pennies we
had saved, 5/- (25p) was a princely sum,
sixty pennies a weighty load in your short
trousers pocket, which lasted all
afternoon and well into the evening
. There were displays and demo's by
the services, scouts, guides etc., bands,
dances indoor and al fresco, swimming
events, athletics and best of all the
beauty contest. They turned out at least
one nationally recognised athlete and a
film star, Joan Rice, trust me to remember
her. Wasn't she a teashop girl? London
Transport made an entrance directly into
the grounds from Sudbury Hill tube station
and I remember it being used for such
occasions.
Every year
we would go to the carol singing in the
dance hall and saw many good plays
performed by The Lyons Players.
We learnt
to play snooker in the club house which
was at the top near the Greenford Road and
some naughty rugby songs from the players
as they celebrated or drowned their
sorrows, depending on the score line of
the match, with jugs not glasses of ale.
The barman and snooker hall keeper was
called Dan, a dour Scot who was well on
his way to achieving a life long ambition
of never having smiled. There was also a
table tennis hut with two tables.
Down on
the rifle range, there were three ranges,
50, 100 and 200 yard, the 'sarg' taught us
how to fire .22 rifles, how to hold our
breath just before squeezing the trigger
and more. It stood us in good stead, Brian
got his marksman's badge in the RAF, I
missed it by a gnats.
Then there
was the swimming pool, not big but I was
able to swim a width under water
which I couldn't do at the
larger Vale Farm baths. Brian became quite
an accomplished diver, I didn't, I had the
handicap of wool swimming trunks, any
attempt at diving left me searching the
pool for them.
My
favourite way of finishing the day was
with a glass of Stones Ginger Beer with a
cornet Pola Maid floated on top. Memories
of those times drift in and out but all of
them good. Happy days.
©
Ron Smith
2005
|
|
|
|
|