PERSONAL

WESTBOURNE

A village history in West Sussex

My grandfather, James Turnbull, made my first bicycle when I was about 7 years. It was an ASP [all spare parts] as a new bicycle was unaffordable. Anyway, as a chauffeur he had a mechanical bent and probably enjoyed the opportunity. The frame was too large for me to reach the pedals so blocks of wood had been attached. With much wobbling we did my first tour up Horndean Road, along Southleigh Road and back to Emsworth on Westbourne Road. I cannot recall ever using it again.

In later years my parents bought my first new bicycle. It was the latest sports lightweight called a 'Vox Populi' manufactured by Phillips. It cost under £20, was light blue in colour, with drop-down handlebars, 3-speed gears and of course the safety of a bell. Over the years it was stripped down many times and painted different colours from half-empty paint pots in my father's shed.

One of my school friends was Tony Gosling who lived at Bosham. His father had a small nursery mainly for fruit. Picking a fresh peach was a particular delight and I usually came home on my bicycle with the front of my shirt stuffed with cox's apples. There were also some chickens that were troubled with rats. That was my first experience of using a shot gun; not very successfully. Also at Old Bosham lived my uncle's parents and I used to ride over with Aunt Jude to visit them. They were very keen gardeners and perhaps that is why my aunt & uncle were too.

A 'gang' of lads and lasses would often go swimming at Emsworth, Hayling Island and Pilsey Island a short swim off Thorney Island. To get to the latter we had to cross the World War 2, RAF runway and always made sure that we looked left and right. It cannot be recalled that we were ever restricted. The most frequent was at Emsworth, particularly when the tide was up. About a 100 yards away was a wooden hulk that we called The Ark that was always a popular swim. Clambering up the side and resting on the deck before swimming back. On one occasion a swimmer had a lucky break. Somehow he entered a culvert from the Mill Pond and was swept through under the Mill House and escaped with a few barnacle scratches. My only injury was close to the bathing hut on the Mill Pond side where I gashed my foot on some glass.

There was one other place that was often used in the evening. Where the river Ems turns at Deep Springs into the canal leading down to Watersmeet House. An 18" square beam bridged the river and was used for diving into the river. Not too deep, as you could come up with a muddy face. Being fresh water, it could be rather cold at times. It was also a favourite spot for some of the soldiers from the Cemetery Lane camp site. The bridge was also used for my weekly visits to Deep Springs to collect dog food. It was the quickest route from Rosebank to the school, and along the canal, even on dark winter nights. On return my reward was the weekly comics.

The main use was travelling to the Dockyard each day in the later years of my apprenticeship. The twelve-mile journey could usually be completed within 40 minutes by often tucking in behind lorries and dragged along in their slipstream. The greatest challenge was coming home to be able to beat those dockies who were returning to Westbourne via train and bus. Most of the time this was successful. At weekends I would often go on tours of the countryside. One of my favourites was to across the top of Portsdown Hill with the stunning views across to the Isle of Wight. This would drop down into Fareham for a cup of tea. Then it was off through the New Forest heading for Bournemouth with another tea stop at Romsey.

The worst journey was to London and back in a day. The outward journey was no problem arriving at Putney Bridge for lunch at a Riverside café. The return trip was a nightmare as I was very tired and darkness fell before the journey was half over. I stopped at Guildford for fish and chips and my fatigue made me sick afterwards. The long haul up ? by the light of my cycle lamp was most gruelling. Somehow I arrived in Petersfield exhausted and ready to give up. However, at what must have been a very slow pace I arrived home at about midnight. My parents were naturally very worried, as I had not told them about my trip. They said it looked as if my eyes were out on organ stops.

My cycling pal was Allan Briton, a fellow shipwright apprentice at the Dockyard. We camped a couple of times at Shanklin on the Isle of Wight. This prepared us for a Summer holiday by riding the 260 mile journey to Lands End and back, camping on the way. Stops on the way Dorchester, Exeter. On the outward journey we came over the ferry at Fowey, but on the return journey came back via the shorter route via Lostwithiel as we were running short of money and food. On our last night near Romsey we had run out of both, but some fellow campers looked after us. Allan now lives in Australia and we keep in touch via email.

The last days for my bicycle was in 1960 when travelling from my first married home in Kidbrooke, SE London to the Royal Naval College at Greenwich where I was on the staff. Soon after I bought my first car a second-hand Vauxhall Wyvern at Lewisham for £273 and a few months later moved to Scotland leaving my bicycle behind.

Keith with brother Len

CYCLING

Top of page