Saturday Afternoons
When I was in the Study, we would go on walks with Mrs. Hansen, usually accompanied by one of her adult sons, Gary and John. On Saturdays our walk would take us to Baxters, a sweet shop, I think in Brabourne [or was it Smeeth?], where we could spend our pocket money on sweets.
Sugar was [and therefore sweets were] still rationed, and we were limited to a quarter pound of sweets per week. I usually bought Keiller chocolate fingers. The end of rationing coincided with my going up to the seniors the following year, and for the next few years I would get permission to visit the local sweet shop in Ashford during the school lunch hour. The master on duty would always say “you’ll ruin your teeth”, but would always grant permission.
He was right about my teeth, and I had numerous fillings during the next few years. Our dentist in Canterbury Road would use the drill without benefit of any kind of anaesthetic, and I have ever since wondered whether it was not the practice for dentists to use anaesthetics at that time, or whether they were simply regarded as wasted on children.
The senior boys would usually divide into two or three groups on Saturday afternoons, one of which, together with some of the girls, would go riding. One group would go cycling. Several boys had their own bike, and there were always one or two school bikes, in different states of repair. I remember one occasion when I went cycling with Sandy on a Saturday afternoon. We made a round trip via Folkestone, Dover, Deal and back via Canterbury and Ashford. I was riding a school bike with no brakes [no Health and Safety then] and, being a rather nervous cyclist, dismounted and walked whenever we had to go down a steep hill.
I left it fairly late to learn to ride a bike; I think I was about twelve or thirteen. I had no choice in the matter. One evening I was grabbed by Richard Newington and told that I was going to learn to ride a bike there and then. I was not in the habit of arguing with my seniors, but I was concerned that it was bedtime. He said that he had already cleared it with either Simon or Miss Travers.
It transpired that he had arranged to have a competition with Ken Gentil; Cyril Ives had also not yet learnt to ride a bike, and they would compete to see whether he could teach me to ride before Ken could teach Cyril.
We started behind the West Wing. I sat on the bike and pedalled while Richard held the saddle. Every now and then he would reassure me that he was still holding the saddle. When he said “I’m still holding the saddle”, at the same time walking ahead of me, I realised that I could ride a bike.
They then took us on our bikes along the drive in front of the house, another cause for concern for me, since this was out of bounds. However, they had apparently also cleared this with the authorities.
Before school on the following day, quite a number of the boys turned out to watch me ride a bike. The plan was to ride down the fairly steep incline below the Brewery Yard and do a sharp right turn to go uphill behind the main house. I set off down the hill and straight into the fence, fortunately with no harm to anything except my dignity.