Over on the other side of the road, my old paper round, Middleton Road – Jervis Avenue and off-shoots in between. The suggestion of stolen (near frozen) diet Coke slides across my tongue. The taste of illicit daybreak transactions: Coca-Cola for copies of Silk & Whitehouse….
Marching on, in the distance the new yet now ancient leisure pool, back down the coast, the line of Martello Towers standing stubborn amongst the shingle – stout sentinels (a younger man once wrote) – reaching as far as the sea fret allows. The hint of a marina barely sketched out on a town-planner’s desk, the Crumbles retreating slowly.
Gun emplacements seemingly unoccupied, the concrete walls betraying the everyday conquests of rogues and lovers alike. Remnants of yet more paper-boy transactions litter the floor, empty cartons, crushed Embassy No.6 and torn silver foil that had once contained the ultimate contraband (courtesy of the London Rubber Company). Whilst couples amused each other on the way back from the fair at Seaside Rec, a thousand matches simultaneously play on the three football pitches at 5 Acres. The raw tang of Deep Heat and liniment scars the back of the throat as the changing rooms are finally unlocked (Nobby had the key – as we suspected).
Gun emplacements seemingly unoccupied, the concrete walls betraying the everyday conquests of rogues and lovers alike. Remnants of yet more paper-boy transactions litter the floor, empty cartons, crushed Embassy No.6 and torn silver foil that had once contained the ultimate contraband (courtesy of the London Rubber Company). Whilst couples amused each other on the way back from the fair at Seaside Rec, a thousand matches simultaneously play on the three football pitches at 5 Acres. The raw tang of Deep Heat and liniment scars the back of the throat as the changing rooms are finally unlocked (Nobby had the key – as we suspected).
Well played lads!
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