40 Kevin

A leisurely stroll to the Darland Banks with Kevin and his mum, on a beautiful sunny day, was most enjoyable. So too, were the ice creams Mrs Garlick treated us to from a shop on the top road.  It was only my second visit to the Darland Banks yet for all its magnificence, the greatest impression made on me wasn’t the landscape, but the sound of boys high in the trees as we meandered through the woodland on arrival. Given away by their chatter, they were lost in the leafy canopy at a height I couldn’t imagine.

Not so enjoyable was a trip with Kevin and his mum to The Strand swimming pool, this time with Kevin’s big brother Barrie. That I, a non swimmer, should narrowly escape drowning at the hands of the Garlick boys – who were determined to chuck me in – was only down to the intervention of Mrs Garlick.

When Kevin wasn’t trying to drown me he was a brilliant friend. If it hadn’t been for him I’d never have known the thrill of firing a Johnny Seven, tried Scalextric and Subbuteo, or seen some of the smashing models he owned. Kev’s mum and dad occasionally took him to Bakers, in Gillingham, on a Saturday morning. I went with them a couple of times and what an eye opener it was, to see so many fantastic toys in one place. Upon our return in the family’s white Hillman Imp, I was treated to a quarter of fudge, same as Kev, which was typical of Mister and Mrs Garlick, who were forever kind to me.

 

Kevin introduced me to all kinds of things, like balsa wood, which I knew nothing about until he showed me a plane he’d made. Then, when he needed to buy some more, I went with him to the little DIY shop on Twydall Green, just up from the Royal Engineer. I’d never set foot in the place before but seeing balsa wood stocked in so many shapes and sizes, it was easy to appreciate the stuff’s potential. Kev taught me how to use it but then he would, because Kev was my blood brother and had been since the day we’d pricked our thumbs with a pin and clasped hands in a solemn bonding ceremony.

We had a go at making magic potions too. Our experiments weren’t very successful, but it was fun to raid his mum’s kitchen for fabric conditioner and other products in the hope that we’d stumble upon a concoction that’d be the envy of Grandpa Munster.

Everyone loved The Munsters. The Addams Family were okay but less endearing, I thought. Another show we loved was Branded, a new western.

At my home on Crundale Road, my poor thumb copped it again when Kev and I played darts with my brothers in the front garden. Fixing a dartboard on the front door wasn’t the cleverest thing to do and though nobody suffered directly, the game wasn’t without pain. In my eagerness to retrieve several darts thrown by Kev, I took one in the thumb. Argh!

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For better or worse Kevin was accepted into our home like no other and treated like one of us. This was typified when he came to play after tea one evening and ended up weeding the back garden with me, Dave and Mike – a tedious task overseen by Dad that only ended at dusk, when Dad went for his pint.

 

And Kevin, in turn, accepted us. Good old Kev.