Part 11

I Do Miss Betty Figg.

Betty always seemed to be a bit of a loner, and I was always helping her with one problem or another. It was always nice popping in when I received a call to pop along for a chat.

The last time she wanted a chat was when she said she had a problem with a neighbour, and the phone was too far from her bed. Come to think of it—I took her down my own extension lead that I used when working in my shed. Never did get it back.

What was good about Betty was her wonderful knowledge of the village back to the war. Evidently, she had also been involved in searchlight batteries as well. Nearer to home, her aunt had the café in the Old Village.

It was quite useful to me at the time, as I was known as Cyclops, writing the back page of the North Portslade Community Newspaper. Also at the time, I was doing a piece for the Argus, as it fitted in well with my other writing bit. However, when I became a councillor, it all became a bit too much for me.

I received a call from the local surgery nurse a year or so ago, asking me if I would go to Betty's funeral. Which I did, and when I got to the crematorium, there was only Betty's daughter, son-in-law, along with their daughter, and the practice nurse there. By special request from her family, I was the only mourner.

I didn't know quite what to say, and luckily the little bit of a politician in me helped me find a few words. Betty was extremely fond of animals and was a regular protester at the Live Exports demonstrations at the port.

27/09/2026

Oh Please, No More War.

The last time that I had a chat with Betty, we had a chat about the Black Market that operated in the Old Village during the last war; I think it came about because I was at that time working for Le Carbone at the big factory in the Old Village. Evidently, the factory had been the main base for the Canadian Soldiers in Portslade. Bearing in mind the size of the Old Village, it was quite easy to facilitate a Black Market.

For whatever reason, the story was never told, and I was having a bit of a mooch around my bungalow as I am completely on my own now, and I came across a canvas wallet which, when I opened it, contained four ration books: one 1946 - 1947 and three 1953 - 1954.

There were six items that you needed the books to purchase: sugar, bacon, cheese, fats, eggs, and meat. We used to get our meat from an Uncle who had a butcher's shop during the war. Underneath his name, which was in large letters, was the smaller name of someone else; I have often wondered why.

28/09/2026

Getting Involved. Part one

About 1963, my beloved Merle gave me an ultimatum: either we get married, or I am joining the Cruise Ships as a stewardess. So we got married with the problem of a home hanging over us.

My mother was an invalid at that time and spent most of her time in bed. She saw an article in the Evening Argus about an estate being built at Mile Oak behind the shops on Graham Avenue.

I got on them, and they had all been sold. The person at the estate agents was wonderful and said we haven't got a reserve if anyone drops out. I jumped at the chance, and in no time at all a chance cropped up for a two-bedroom property which was terraced, but it was a start.

Everything went fine for us, and we had our first home for £2,240 leasehold.

29/09/2026

Getting involved part two

Well, after making a few enquiries, we found just what we wanted: a nice little bungalow with a fair-sized garden and plenty of scope for our needs.

Everything moved very quickly, no hanging about, and our little house in Heathfield Drive went just as quickly. My having purchased the lease was a bonus; we were soon on the move. My new Mortgage was a bit more, but with inflation running quite gently, that was very soon no problem.

We had a nice little bungalow with garage space and a back gate onto the downs where we could take the dogs directly onto the downs; then came the problem. The Bypass plan was published, which was something that motivated me. This is something that my solicitor had forgotten to tell me about.

A meeting was called by people affected by its route, including ourselves. Somehow I was elected vice chair of a group called ANTI BRIGHTON BYPASS ASSOCIATION.

The Evening Argus Reporter covering the meeting was a Reporter named Adam Trimmingham. Adam and myself were right on the same plane and very quickly became good friends. I think that it was my friendship with Adam that was responsible for me putting myself up for my election to Hove Council.

I was very sad when Adam passed away, and I missed our chats every few weeks or so.

Hon. Alderman Bob Carden

29-09-26