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Thread: More Memories

  1. #11
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    Default Re: More Memories

    Many thanks to Mike for the post As you all say memories I was there for 6 weeks as a d/b R785168 way back in 63 whilst the riggers doubled up on all our gear on the SS Aden P&O cargo ship. The Mission to Seamen Canning town hadn't been open long that ended up being our second home. Went back 2 years ago stayed at the Queen Vic Seamans Rest East India Dock Road for a couple of nights, cheap and very clean.

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  3. #12
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    Default Re: More Memories

    Here is a memoir I've that always warms the cockles of my heart when it comes to mind:

    It was February 1948 and having signed on the Aberdeen and Commonwealth Line SS "Morton Bay" berthed in King George V Dock, London I made a quick dash out to Hanwell near Ealing Broadway to see my Aunt Lil knowing that we sailed at about six am for Sydney which I left in the previous August.

    late at night I said my goodbyes and caught the London District Line train for East Ham (for the "Manor Way" bus to the docks) and as we rattled along I fell asleep. The next thing I knew the guard was shaking me telling me that this was Dagenham, well on the way beyond East Ham. It was 3 am and the train was not going any further. Also there were no more trains until morning.

    In a panic I ran up to the stairs to the road above - pitch dark and no traffic. Shortly a black Wolseley pulled up next to me full of cops asking what I was about at this time of night. I told my story and they gave me a lift up to the main London road, dropped me off at a bus stop with a - "don't know if there are any more buses tonight!"

    Eventually a big red double decker bus came along all blacked out. I waved frantically, it pulled up and as I jumped aboard the driver called out through the hatch - "I'm only going to Barking depot - keep your head down". I went up to the hatch and told him my problem and asked if I could get a bus from there to KG V Docks. "Nah!" he says and kept driving. Before long I realised I was in familiar territory. He had taken me miles and miles off course all the way to the docks. I had two half crowns to my name and I asked him to have a couple of pints of "mild and bitter" on me. He gave me a friendly wave as he turned the big bus around and headed back to distant Barking depot. That was over 70 years ago and every time it comes to mind I think warmly of that decent driver.


    Richard
    Our Ship was our Home
    Our Shipmates our Family

  4. #13
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    Default Re: More Memories

    Hi Richard I almost felt I was there as I know the routes you mention and those Wolseley's were lovely cars, I also had a ride in one
    when I was 15, I was caught swigging out of a brown ale bottle and taken home in disgrace , when I came ashore I nearly bought
    an ex police car it was a Wolseley 6/80 and still has the fixing for the bell on the front but I ended up with a Standard Vanguard.
    That is a great memory to have and it is heartwarming as you say, sad to say it would not happen today as they turn kids off the
    bus miles from home if they don't have the right money to pay the driver, there's been several complaints in the local rag, we live
    in different times now. Cheers

  5. #14
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    Default Re: More Memories

    There are pearls in this thread - well done, chaps.

    Here's a bit of recall, fleshed out with touches of imagination (I'm never certain these days as to the difference):

    July 1957.
    Collars upturned, dockers and seafarers mingle on cracked and weary flagstones. A line of throbbing lorries, tailed by a blue double-decker bus with rows of heads deep in newspapers, idle their engines in the greasy summer drizzle. Gouts of steam shroud Victorian brick as she emerges; the shunting engine clanks along lines that unwind from Birkenhead docks. It takes a full minute to huff and puff a long snake of loaded wagons past the crossing gates. Wooden sleepers shrink into their bed as they take the weight. Diesel fumes and the acrid stench of burning anthracite makes a fellow hold his breath. The warning bell mutes, the barriers lift, the lights turn green; comes a gap in the traffic and I sprint across the cobbles.
    Mid-day drinkers throng the public bar of the Royal Swan, but I discern a clutch of my shipmates huddled around a corner table. The barmaid draws me a pint of Guinness. She angles the glass at forty-five degrees while her beefy arm works the handle of the beer engine. It's worth watching, she's proud of her skill, and imbibers of Guinness understand patience. Once the stout clears and the head settles, in case I'm nudged I sip a morsel of malty cream off the top. I weigh up the safest route then move to join my friends through tobacco fug spiced with the aromas of slopped ale, and steak and kidney pie with sage-and-onion gravy.
    This tavern is a favoured resort of 'ladies of the night'; there's a flotilla of flashy girls and lusty, trussed matrons at the next table. Off-duty, they relax and, generous of heart, hold court among their customers – past and potential. In an expansive mood, they're known to buy drinks all round. One corseted mid-life lady in a black three-piece suit, who sports a pearl necklace, scrapes her chair to let me by. 'Can you squeeze through, La?'
    'Just about, thanks.' I wriggle through the perfume cloud and flinch as she pats my bottom.

    Weekend hub-bub fills the pub. A crew of Norwegians swill ale as if tomorrow they must return to Lutheran Norway and its strict alcohol laws. We generally give Norwegians and other Scandinavians (we refer to them all as Scowegians) a wide berth. When away from their straight-laced and sober home there is no wilder tribe of mankind; they don't know when to stop. I wonder if those rowdy Norskies at the bar, and the clutch of furtive Arabs in the far corner, know the nickname of the Swan Hotel. Legend has it, an old sea-dog amused himself by stoking the fire with his wooden leg. He'd preserved the leg with pitch. When poking the coals one time too many, his peg-leg caught alight, causing him to hop about the public bar in flames. Thereafter, this watering-hole is fondly called The Blazing Stump.
    Last edited by Harry Nicholson; 1st July 2019 at 08:55 PM.
    Harry Nicholson

  6. #15
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    Default Re: More Memories

    Hi Mike.
    Well done mate, only posted for 22 days and 1,237 viewers, tears are flowing everywhere.
    Des

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  8. #16
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    Default Re: More Memories

    Great stuff, Harry. Worked by for three weeks in 1951 on the Gothic when she was in Cammell Lairds. So busy getting back across the Mersey I missed the Blazing Stump experience. Cheers, Richard
    Our Ship was our Home
    Our Shipmates our Family

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  10. #17
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    Default Re: More Memories

    My first memory of the Docks was was July 1955 I was 16 and raring to go to sea. When I came home from the Vindi I was told to report to
    the Shipping Federation building at the KGV Dock, I eventually found my way there via underground tube train to Plaistow East Ham, then
    I caught a bus to Silvertown Way, it was a sunny day and as I walked down Custom House and past the Flying Angel I was completely engrossed
    at the sight of the ships funnels and superstructure towering above the sheds this went on for the whole length of the road outside of Victoria Dock.
    At the end of the there was a big pub the Connaught with a lot of Dockers outside having a laugh and a pint, across the road I could see the big
    black painted iron gates tha was the entrance to the Albert Dock. I must have been wide eyed as this was a whole new world opening up to me,
    after getting directions from the copper at the gate, I made my way across the cobblestones and railway lines with engines and goods wagons
    going about there business, a bit further up was the ships and cranes. Following my directions I came to the Shipping Federation where I was told
    to report to the NZSCo office in the Albert Dock as I had been given my first ship MV Orari, the NZSCo office was a yellow brick building with an
    iron outside stairway at the top was a single room with a girl sitting at a desk, she was expecting me as she already had a railway warrant made
    out for me to go to Lime street Station Liverpool the next day. I spent the next hour looking at the ships and soaking up the atmosphere, I went
    home full of excitement and apprehension at what my new life would hold as it had hit home to me just how big it all was, but it turned out to be
    one of the best things I did with my life, cheers

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