Day 2417 Back in the old days

26th March 2024

I visited my friend Rob to fit the wooden box frame I had made for him. He had cut the hole in his living room wall, the other side of the stairs. I had to adjust the size a bit for my box to fit. He wanted a modification done to it making it flush both sides, that entailed cutting three quarters of an inch off the back, and as would happen it was exactly the place where I had nails, which made a simple job a bit harder.

It was soon done and he was happy with it.

Next I had a meet arranged with my old school mate Steve, to wander around Charmey Down airfield, which was close to where I grew up. I had checked the weather the night before, and felt it was a bit risky with rain forecast for most of the day. By the next morning it had changed to rain towards the end of the afternoon, so we forged ahead with our adventure.

When it was time to leave Rob to meet Steve, there was a bit of fine drizzle, so Rob lent me a rainproof mac, which was just as well.

We both met up outside the small village school that still operates, and that still looked familiar.

There was an extra classroom built, but the playground was the same.

Steve slung a rucksack on his back and we headed along a lane heading for the manor.

There was always a chestnut tree covered in carved initials at the entrance, but it was no longer there. All that remained was the stump, it was disappointing. We walked further along the lane and stopped to look up a very steep hill.

This had been the place where all the surplus soil was dumped when the new section of the A46 was cut through back in the late fifties.

Why this place was so significant was there were three pairs of wellington boots buried in the mud. It was so coincidental that both of us had the same misfortune, but at different times, and not knowing about it until now. There was me and my friend Phillip. I brand new wellington boots, and my friends were much older and difficult to get out of. We decided to climb the steep mud hill until we started sinking

Steve and his sister. It was crazy. I remember walking home in my bare feet.

Our walk continued up the steep lanes past the rectory. Steve remembered that the Rector had one built-up shoe, and I remembered he had a large hooked nose, it must have been frightening for young children in those days.

We crossed the duel carriageway of the A46 and followed a footpath that joined another lane that took us up to the airfield.

Steve was prepared, he had a map with all the positions of all the original buildings, bunkers and hangers marked. Today there is little left, the only building that can be recognised was the control tower, and even that is starting to decay.

By now the light rain had set in, and I was grateful for the mac from Rob. We followed round one of the runways, it was still recognisable although covered with lichen. There were still the mounds where buildings used to be, and red bricks could be seen sticking out from the undergrowth.

We laughed at all the similarities we shared, the fascination with matches and building dens, the innocence we had, thinking nothing of being out all day playing, getting back home for tea.

There we were, two old duffers, soaking wet laughing hysterically remembering our past, it was great

.

On the way back we visited the cemetery, there were names from the past that triggered even more memories, a lot of the graves were overgrown, waiting for some volunteers to come and rescue them.

The church was much smaller than I remember, there were many harvest festivals that I donated tins of pineapple chunks or peas. We laughed imagining the Rector clumping his way to the alter.

“ Do you think he had built-up slippers, or did he just limp significantly?” Added Steve, as we closed the heavy church door.

“I definitely think that would scare the kids” I replied.

We walked back towards the school, hoping that we could go inside. That wasn’t possible, the place is like a high security prison with coded entry and exit, the only place we could enter was to look at the playground.

It was so small, still covered with asphalt, but with more modern climbing frames.

It was a wonder that the school can still survive, there aren’t any new houses in the village, so maybe the children still are brought in from surrounding villages.

Suddenly it was the end of our wondrous journey back to our roots, my socks felt damp, we were both soaked but we didn’t care we had discovered that were did so many similar things, we were grateful that we found each other again, finally remembered the names of the other chums that are out there somewhere.