Part 7

Part 7

Summary: This section follows the author's adventures into the early 1950s, exploring "Parker’s Folly" and discovering a hidden stash of live ammunition on the Downs. It fondly recalls a challenging, transport-free family picnic marathon to Trueleigh Hill via "Shanks’s pony," and details the author's first steps into employment at age thirteen as a delivery boy for Harold Venner’s butcher shop in the Old Village. The narrative expands into his later youth and career, recounting a visit to his Uncle Jim—the former caretaker of the Chattri war memorial whose life was saved in battle by a clip of bullets—and a chance encounter at Ilford Station with his former geography teacher, Mr Huddart, whilst away on a machinery repair assignment.

24/06/2026

Parker’s Folly and Potato Mooching

Bob the Moocher had a new area to explore.

It was the early fifties, I suppose. Alderman Harry Parker had obtained all the land north of my house through to Chalky Road for 10 quid an acre, and by some, it was known as Parker’s Folly. Some folly, don’t you think? That land now must be worth millions.

Anyway, it was a nice piece of mooching land for Bob to mooch on. Being a bit vegetable-minded, I found a patch that had previously grown potatoes and off I used to go to get buckets of self-setters. Very nice too, at a time of year when Jersey Royals cost a bomb.

A Serious Find on the Downs

On one of my mooches, near where Drove Crescent joins up with the footpath and steps, I found an old shed or store. Bob the Moocher was cheeky enough to go to it. I found several large packs of live .22 rifle bullets. This was serious: the police came, searched around, and took the ammunition.

28/06/2026

The Marathon Picnic to Trueleigh Hill

My first family walk.

Just after the war, my father had fixed up with his brother for a picnic on the Downs on Trueleigh Hill. How they had arranged it, I will never know, as communications at that time didn't exist. And neither did transport. We lived in George Street, and they lived in Ridgeway Close, Southwick. Destination: Trueleigh Hill.

Up to the Downs had been a no-go area. Evidently, the Downs had been used as a flight path through to Shoreham Harbour. Incendiary bombs were to be used to light a path for enemy bombers, which were still a few being found right until quite recently. My aunt had a bucket and a sandbag for this purpose, as well as a stirrup pump. But she, at that time, lived adjacent to the Downs.

Travelling by Shanks’s Pony

I must have been about eight at the time, and we first had to get from George Street to Ridgeway Close. Just imagine our picnic gear and pushchair to be just the start. I know it involved at least one overnight sleepover. No, we didn't have transport—just pure Shanks’s pony.

We made the trip, or rather a marathon. The men went down the other side to the Shepherd and Dog whilst we played at the top of Trueleigh Hill. I remember as we passed Mile Oak, we looked to what was just little more than a few shops and houses. Never thought that I would be living here one day, writing about it. Well, I remember it was a night in an armchair before the journey back to George Street. Remember very few buses and no internet for communication.

Hon. Alderman Bob Carden

28/06/2026

Saturday Rounds for Harold Venner

Working for the butcher.

When I became thirteen, I was expected to find a little job and contribute to the home economy. Well, I was lucky I got a job as a delivery boy working for Harold Venner, the butcher, in the Old Village, where the dental surgeon is today. Not too many calls on a Saturday, I can remember some still today: there was Terry at Trafalgar Road, Mr Doo the Driving School at the bottom of Foredown Drive, and an elderly couple in Church Road. I also did an evening round on a Tuesday. My total income was about 7 or 8 shillings a week. I had to rely on a few tips for my pocket money.

The Meat Pie Tally

One of my extra bits was for going to Southwick and picking up a couple of trays of meat pies. One of these trays of pies was for the pub next door. On one occasion, the landlord forgot to pay me, and Harold made me pay off the cost at sixpence a week, keeping a copy of the tally in the office.

I also earned another one shilling a week, scrubbing the chopping block on a Saturday afternoon.

29/06/2026

A Relation Called Uncle Jim

All of my education from eleven onwards was continued in Brighton up to the age of about 23. During my early 11 years onwards, I started a course at Preston Technical Institute. You must remember Mr Tester, "Right ho lads, brush down please, three steel rules still missing."

Well, I was sent there a couple of times a week for workshop practice from Brighton Technical School.

One day my Dad said to me, "Is that near the Arches in Preston Drove?" Well, it was as a matter of fact; Dad said, "Pop in and see your Uncle Jim. He lives in Harding House in Preston Drove."

I had a bit of time to spare one day on the off chance. I dropped in to see him. It turns out that he was formerly the caretaker at The Chattri near Patcham, the Indian War Memorial.

He was quite an old gentleman and had to retire because of his age. Well, he and two elderly aunts had moved into this house in Brighton; the caretaker's bungalow was burnt down after they left.

He didn't tell why the bungalow had been burnt down after he left; only that's what the Indian Community wanted.

A Saved Life and War Relics

The most interesting part of my visit was a box that had several items of interest. There was a clip of .303 bullets and a bullet from a German sniper that had hit him. The clip of .303 bullets in his breast pocket had saved his life. This was about some 75 years ago; however, I did go up to the memorial service there at The Chattri during my year as Mayor of Brighton and Hove.

Hon. Alderman Bob Carden

30/06/2026

Surprise Meeting on Ilford Station

I was already in London; I think it may have been at the Machine Tool Exhibition at Olympia. The call came for me to go to a large firm in Ilford where a machine had broken down.

That evening I did as I was instructed and made my way to Ilford.

Got off the train, and walking along the platform was the chap, and I thought, "I know you," like you do. When I got close, I said a polite good evening. Then I said, "Blimey, you are Mr Huddart, my Geography Teacher at the Building School in Brighton." We had a quick chat as he had been a Labour candidate for a recent election at Kemp Town. Pleasantries passed and we went our separate ways. Next job: a bed for the night, so I found by chance the local police station. They put me in touch with a woman who takes in homeless people. She said if anyone else comes tonight, you have to share. Anyway, nobody did, fortunately.

02/07/2026

Bob Remembers Downs Park

I had three grandparents: my dad's father, who died, I am told, of illness contracted in Mesopotamia during the First World War.

I know very little about him other than that he left behind a widow and five children. My mother Kate Styles, as she was now, had a real father, a French man who died when she was three years old. He evidently was a court shoemaker and a musician of some repute who was teaching my mother how to play the cello when he died. Her mother married again well before the last war, to a Jack Styles. She had a brother in her own right by her father and later two twins, Jack and Ben Styles. Her brother was called Bas or Bars Styles, and he drove what they called the drain lorry when he worked for Portslade Council. Bas died quite early on. Her brother Jack, who was a serious invalid, died also at Chailey Heritage Hospital again during the last war.

My step-grandfather, I found him dead in bed when I was asked to take him a letter that had come from the Inland Revenue. It was my mum's stepdad who had worked for Wrapsons; I am told he worked at the Downs Park Estate. He would walk up to Downs Park every day with a bottle of cold tea and bread and cheese.

I just remember Downs Park being worked when I worked for the butcher Harold Venner, and I had to deliver the meat to an old lady, Mrs Hilton, who lived at Bush Cottage, which has long gone.

It was once known as Brighton's Piggy Bank Land.

Julie Byrne
He died of dysentery in Alexandria, Egypt. He was in the veterinary corps. He died on 13th December 1916.

07/07/2026

Mooching Around St Leonards Gardens

When I lived in George Street, I loved mooching around St Leonards Gardens. I helped the milkman one day, and when I came home I had been given a large carrier bag absolutely full of used postage stamps that I wish that I had today, as from what I remember was going back some years. I do have a couple of moochin tales left.

Hon. Alderman Bob Carden

08/07/2026

Why Bob the Moocher

I have always liked the idea of wandering about back alleyways, always those that were not too far away. The early ones were those in St Leonards Road and that area and St Andrews Road; I never did know what they were for. They were just somewhere else for little me to have a nose around.

Even those off of Trafalgar Road didn't escape me. I just liked the idea of going in one end and coming out of the other.

I also liked to wander around Ellen Street through to West Street, and I never could work out in my little mind what all of the rusty remains of old cars were doing there; there was simply loads of it in Freeman's scrap yard.

09/07/2026

Age Seven Joined the Cubs

I don't remember being in the Cubs for too long, as with everything else, we moved up north to Portslade Old Village, which put everything out of reach. Well, it did for me anyway. The troop that I joined was the Fifth Hove St Andrews. We met at Andrews Church Hall (now a dentist) on the corner of St Andrews Road. I remember the hall; it was the venue for my cousin's wedding. It was the first time and place that I ever had too much to drink. It's the Cubs I am remembering, and it was run by Skip Pollard, which was his name I believe.

Anyway, I wasn't there too long, but I do remember going on a trip to Hillside, my only one ever.

We went by train to Steyning, with me as usual in my second-hand Wolf Cubs jumper.

We were only going for a day, which meant we travelled by the Horsham Flyer or Steyning Stinker, whatever you wish to call it, getting off at Steyning and then marching to Hillside Camp. On arrival, cup of tea time, but he had left the tin opener at home for the milk. However, he managed somehow to pierce a couple of holes in the can of milk and made some concoction for us to drink. That was my one and only taste of the scout movement. Next stop, we moved up to Drove Gardens.

10/07/2026

More Rusty Old Cars Found Up North

Once we had moved to Drove Gardens, I was starting to become more adventurous. I started to find different paths to explore, and being that much older, walked a bit further afield.

New England Farm was an interesting one with its strange cottages, and I think pigsties. I later discovered, and so did my brother James, the finest blackberries ever. At the time, my father worked for Brighton Corporation Transport, which in those days ran the Brighton trolleybuses. He seemed to make things; I didn't ask questions. Anyway, returning to my story, he made an aluminium trog or basket about two feet long by about ten inches wide. My brother James found that by filling it with blackberries and taking it to, I think it was, a greengrocer's halfway down Boundary Road, he could get a good price for them; I think he used the money to purchase Dinky toys in Hill's post office in Trafalgar Road. I am sorry I have deviated quite a bit; to get back to my mooching: I came to the track by Foredown Hospital and started to see more rusty old cars just dumped alongside the track. This brought two conclusions together as to why they were there. When the war came in 1938, no one was around to drive them, and there was no petrol to put in tanks, plus there was nowhere to store them.

11/07/2026

A Day at School That Nearly Wasn't

I was never destined for great things in this world, and my school reports were always pretty awful. I was never a grammar school candidate.

However, I did get another chance and took the entrance examination to what was known as the Building School. Well, I somehow managed to pass this one.

It meant getting a bus at Portslade Village and travelling to St Peter's Church, Brighton.

There were three coming on that route each day: Michael P, Jimmy C, and myself.

Nothing unusual; we all joined the bus at our respective stops: me at the Old Village, Jimmy at St Nicholas Church, and Michael at Southern Cross.

Quite a normal day up to now. We left the bus at St Peter's Church and headed for the zebra crossing. The bus that we left stopped for us to cross, with Jim and Mick a bit ahead of me.

The next thing I remember is picking myself up about ten yards up the road. A baker's van had overtaken the bus and whacked me up London Road.

I picked myself up and went to school with the others.

I was patched up by Spud Taylor, the woodwork teacher, and sent off to my lessons.

That night, when I got home, my father went mad and took me straight to the doctor's.

I did get a couple of weeks off school.

16/07/2026

Caught Courting

It was some seventy years ago that I got chatting to the daughter of a friend's next-door neighbour. It so happened that she always seemed to be about when I was making him a visit.

This particular evening he was out, and his neighbour's daughter came out, and after chatting for a while we decided to take a walk. It was a wonderful evening, the like of which we have been having a lot lately.

The walk took us along Hangleton Lane and down onto the golf course. Close by was a nice bunker just set right for a rest after the climb up Drove Road. We sat and chatted for a while with a little bit of silly talk. Suddenly, I felt a presence and peered over the top of the bunker; it was a large Alsatian dog followed by two chaps and another dog.

My big surprise came when I suddenly recognised the two chaps: both worked at CVA, one at Number Five factory where I worked, and the other was the shop steward at Hollingbury.

I expected to get my leg pulled at work the next day, but not a word was said.

A Move Brings a Change

It was about 1947 that we moved to Portslade Village.

Moving up to Drove Gardens brought about a serious change in lifestyle. For a start, we had hot water and a real bathroom along with part central heating.

I had gone to the Salvation Army for Sunday school and band practice once a week; however, carrying a large euphonium twice a week soon became a problem for a little fellow such as me. It was about one and a half miles walk each way, so the euphonium went back, and I signed up for Pastor Gilbrook's ministry.

19/07/2026

My Biggest Failure Yet

My parents have always insisted that I belonged to an organisation of some kind, so not long after we moved up from the South I got to join the St John Ambulance Cadets. Not only did I get to learn a bit about first aid, but there was a bit of discipline there as well.

I started off going to the hall in Abinger Road once a week until the hall was sold off, I believe, and we moved to East Hill House. I quite enjoyed being a member when I was in my teens, and there were one or two nice young lady members as well.

One of our activities was in competitions; a team of four would go to an appointed venue to prove just how well we had learnt our first aid.

I can't remember just where we had to go to, but it was way from here.

We did our bit, examined the patient, doing our bandaging and splinting, etc., and the whistle blew; time was up. The person marking us just said, "Your patient is dead." We hadn't checked to see if he was breathing or not.

Hon. Alderman Bob Carden

The Day Shergar the Racehorse Vanished

It was a frosty morning in February; I can't remember the date, but I do remember the day.

I was the works supervisor of a small engineering works at Mill Road in Fishersgate. We had come to work that day to find that a job that we were doing for a special customer had turned rusty over the weekend. I had some sprays at home...