47. Those Were The Days My Friends . . . Malcolm G Hill's Memoirs of Lancing Life 1947-1963

Malcolm G Hill

Those Were The Days My Friends . .

Hear Malcolm's Story

Memoirs of Lancing Life 1947-1963

Introduction and Early Origins

Like many of the people whose reminiscences of Lancing life appear here, I too came across this fascinating website by pure chance whilst trawling references on the internet to the Lancing/Sompting/Worthing area. So I trust my few recollections of growing up there will prompt further reflections among those of us scattered around the globe, and of course, those of you still resident in the area, and also prompt others to write accounts of our early lives and even perhaps engage in mutual correspondence whilst we still have time before our all too soon inevitable demise.

My name is Malcolm Gerald Hill. I was born in 1940, not in Lancing actually but in Hayes, Middlesex, but within a few weeks of my birth was taken to live with my grandmother, Mrs Gertrude Perkins at her home in First Avenue, Lancing on account of my mother's premature death from that scourge of early 20th century Britain, tuberculosis of the lungs.

Within a year I had been adopted by the Hill family, Mr Malcolm Thomas William Hill and his wife Eva Mary, who at that time lived on Crabtree Lane in a house called White Gates, a lovely detached home now replaced by an apartment block, opposite The Crabtree Inn and on the other side of the road to a row of shops, among which I remember a greengrocer's with the memorably evocative name of Hibdidges. The Hills had a daughter, Barbara Jean, eleven years older than myself, who unfortunately died in 2014 in her eighty-third year and lived with her husband Peter, also deceased this year, 2015, just outside Norwich in Norfolk.

32a Alan Marshall replies to David Nicholls

 

Alan Marshall said...

Hello from Lancing to Alan Marshall in Tasmania. Thank you for sharing these wonderful memories. I have formatted your text with subheadings and corrected some punctuation to make it easier to read.

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School Days

David, thanks for all those wonderful memories you have brought back to me. I am somewhat younger than yourself (I was born in 1941), but I do remember the old schoolroom, and Mrs Thomas used to teach there. The name Miss Allman, I think she became Mrs Horne. At that age, I had no idea of people getting married and changing their name!

Michael Ayling was in my class at school. I attended there from about 1946 to 1952. The "new" dining room and kitchen were built at the top northern side of the playground, close to the bicycle shed. I will always remember the horrible smell of grease and food waste oozing out of the waste pipe from the kitchen, and that horrible minced meat, hard potatoes, and spinach! It was an awful taste for a 7 or 8-year-old.

Wartime Memories

The Morrison Shelter we had (in Grafton Gardens) was built underneath Mum and Dad's bed. We were taken there to sleep for the night whenever the air-raid sirens sounded. Several went off at the same time, giving a discordant, painful wail, all beating against each other and setting the tensions. We as kids did not know the significance of the tension, but on looking back, our parents had a hard time of it, didn't they?
I was born in a little wooden shack up the top end of Upper Boundstone Lane, just below the fence of the cemetery. A bungalow is built there now, in the corner where there's a bend in the road.
Back to the war years, and I was only almost 4 when it ended, but my main memory is of very quiet nights, very dark because of no street lamps. If any vehicle drove past in the night, it was always very slowly. And if a bomber flew over, it was spine-chilling and would keep me awake! Apparently, the Heinkels were twin-engined and not well synchronised. Even now, the sound of a piston-engined aircraft in the night brings back all those memories.

The Marshall Nursery

My Dad and his Dad (Percy Marshall) and Denis, his brother, had the nursery where Boundstone School is now. Boundstone Lane then really was a "lane"—a rough road with lots of puddles to splash in (and frozen over in the winter of 1947). The structure of that road, when upgraded, would have been very strong. Lots of flint, old bricks, etc., went in as foundations, and the top tarmac was compacted with a steamroller. I watched all that work with great interest.

Playing in Lancing

The Brooks, at the western end of Tower Road, was a favourite playground for us, where we would catch minnows, sticklebacks, and tadpoles. When the bridge over the railway at Western Road was being built, I watched them putting in the piles with a huge, noisy vertical ram. They raised the ram up to the top of the crane's jib, then let it fall at great speed onto the piling, which was gradually driven down into the subsoil.
Well, there are so many little things that come back once I get started. I hope these few lines do the same for others who read this.

Greetings from Down Under.

51. Mike Reynolds sends this great memory of happy times

51. Mike Reynolds

A Glimpse into a Lancing Childhood

In these times of coronavirus lockdowns, I found myself with time to browse the internet and found your website. I thought I would send you some of my memories of a Lancing childhood


My name is Michael (Mike) Reynolds, and I was born in Lancing in June 1937. My parents, Eric and Dorothy Reynolds,(I think a year or so before I was born), bought a new bungalow at 14 The Drive, South Lancing, and it was here that I lived with my family for the whole of my childhood. The family consisted of Mum and Dad, my Dad’s father, Frank Reynolds (Pop), and my brother Geoff, four years older than me.

The Family Business and Wartime Lancing

Before the war, Dad and Pop had set up in business with a bicycle shop in South Street (number 111 I think),- W.F. and E.F.Reynolds- but when WWII started, Dad was called up into the RAF, and my earliest memories of the shop have Pop in the workshop at the back mending the punctures, and Mum running the shop at the front. The other shops I can recall nearby were the World Stores, a grocery where the front of the counter was lined with glass-topped biscuit boxes, Surfleets Chemist on the corner of Penhill Road, Colbourns Haberdashers, Potter Bailies Grocers, Isteads Hardware shop, and on the other side of South Street was the Co-op, where the money was sent on overhead wires from the counter to the cashier.

School Days and Steam Trains

I walked each day to South Lancing Primary School, just over the Southern Railway line. I suppose I would have started there in 1943, but I can’t remember the names of my teachers. I remember that afternoon school finished at about the same time that the “Steyning Flier”, one of the last steam trains to run through Lancing, would come puffing through. We boys would run quickly up and onto the footbridge over the railway line and wait for the Flier to pass underneath, shrouding us in a cloud of smoke and steam – we also tried to spit down the funnel!

Playtime and Wartime Memories

As others of your correspondents have told, the war years made the beach a no-go zone, but with very little traffic on the roads, The Drive and Chester Avenue were our playgrounds. The horse-drawn cart of Mr Souter, the milkman, Lisher’s coal cart, or the rag and bone man’s cart were about all the traffic there was!


I don’t have any clear memories of the air raid on April 25, 1941, in which two houses in The Drive were bombed, but the bombed sites became makeshift (and not very safe) playgrounds.

Exploring Beyond Childhood

When I got a bit older, I had my own bicycle, and I was able to range further. First, the Cubs, and then the 1st South Lancing Troop of the Boy Scouts kept me out of (most) mischief, and at age 11 in 1948, I started at Worthing High School for Boys in Broadwater.


If any of the above jogs other memories, I can be contacted by email at reymor@bigpond.com

41. The Brooks by George Forrest

GeorgeForrest

Hear George's Memories

Tower Road Memories

When the war ended, my father returned from his army service, and a short while later, we moved back into Tower Road, a bit further up the road this time. This changed my area of play, new friends and neighbours, new places to explore and things to learn. 

The Brooks and Cokeham Lane

The area we knew as "The Brooks" was close at hand, a way into the countryside. The brooks started at the end of Tower Road, where Carnforth Road now begins, no more buildings, just fields. The boundary to the open fields was Cokeham Lane, and this had a long line of large elm trees, sadly now gone. Cokeham Lane at the bottom end was no more than a track which ended with a solid white gate at the railway line.

 

On the south side of the railway line on what has become a much larger industrial estate were a couple of businesses, I can recall Solarbo, Lancing Packers and I believe Manhattan kitchens, I believe the correct name was Robinsons, A number of people from Tower Road worked there and rather than take the long way round, illegally crossed the line by climbing over the gate. I know a number of people with a criminal record, having been caught trespassing by the British Transport Police, were taken to court.

Fields and Streams

The Brooks consisted mainly of fields, some of which were planted, but mostly because of the streams crossing them, not suitable for crops. I believe there were two streams, one I know would have been the Teville Stream, not sure about the other. It was a new world to me, and I spent a lot of time there just meandering, catching sticklebacks and frogs in the streams, and watching nature. Many happy days and memories.

The Snake Encounter

One such memory I recall was on a bright, warm summer's day, three or four of us were just wandering, doing nothing in particular, walking down beside a hedge and came to a gate, originally a five-barred gate, a little dilapidated, but still substantial enough. Anyway, me being me, showing off decided that I would try to vault the gate. I was fitter then and managed it.

Over the gate and in mid-air, I looked down at my landing spot, the grass flattened by other people using the gate had become the ideal spot for a huge snake to do a bit of sunbathing... It was the largest snake I had ever seen outside of a zoo. 

A while ago, a newspaper cartoonist named Styx drew characters running in midair. That was me. 

Gravity being what it is, though, I managed to land astride the snake and was immediately making haste to get away. The poor snake was probably just as startled. I ran. The other lads caught me up but were still laughing. I was told later that it was undoubtedly a female grass snake and probably pregnant. I was not waiting to find out; it was a big snake that was enough.

Most definitely a case of look before you leap. It didn't deter me from going down to the brooks, and I spent many more happy days there. Hope you can laugh at this as I now can.