The Long Walk continued . . .

It seemed no time and we were awake again. The smell of the new moan hay. Buttercups and daisies like a coloured tablecloth. The rabbits came and went.

The feel of running water, the towel, the soap, and the coldcream. The usual pattern followed. All traces of sleeping-out removed.

"We will get as near to Ealing as possible," said dad, "a good rest then walk into Ealing in the morning."

The thoughts of seeing my aunts and uncles gave me increased vigour, onwards we went with little food, and little money.

Late afternoon we reached Park Royal. Still a few miles to go. Tired and hungry, I could see the glow of a fire in the distance.

"Let's make for that spot, son."

Soon we were there. It was a large coke fire with lamps and workman's tools around. A man sat in a box.

"Let me do the talking, son. This looks like a gift from heaven."

"Would you mind giving my lad a drink of water? " said dad.

A man, old, short and stocky, poured some water into a jam jar. "You might as well sit down on those bags of coke."

He said little for a while then asked the whys and wherefores. My dad explained, adding we would like to make ourselves presentable before visiting relations in Ealing. The Watchman responded putting some bacon on a shining shovel, gave us a good meal, plenty for all and some over. It sort of reminded me of the story I had read in my little book 'The loaves and the fishes'.

After having our fill, we drank tea with condensed milk, 'Handy Brand' it was called.

"We would like to stay around your hut and fire till early morning," said dad, "but I will understand if you say no."

The Watchman thought a little then said, "I do not mind, but I get a visit from the local policeman for a chat about 11pm." Dad was beat for words.

"I know," said the Watchman, "stay here till 10.30 then go to that field."

"There is an old cowshed about 200 yards on the right. When all is safe I will come and fetch you."

The two men talked and talked about this and that. It transpired that they had both worked on the new tram track 'Ealing to Hanwell'.

Respect for each other was becoming pronounced. There was a feeling of safeness.

Around about 11 '0' Clock supper was served, a large mackerel was put on the shining shovel.

"Go ahead my friends. I shall not fail you when he has gone."

Making our way to the cow shed we were surprised to find it in good condition, dry as a bone with some straw around.

"My son, that man could write a book about life."

We were soon asleep with our boots off. I cannot say how long it was before the kind Watchman came for us. I was half asleep changing venues.

Placed in the hut by dad and the Watchman, I was soon away again. At 7 '0' Clock I was gently awakened and prepared for the great experience.

The Watchman was to me like a father and to my dad like a brother.

Handshakes followed with heartfelt reaction.

Previous Page | Home | Next Page

©Beeson 1997

Top