73 A New Way Home

If I wasn’t prone to travel sickness I might never have walked home from school but I frequently did. Though it took twice as long, spending my bus fare on goodies seemed a fair exchange. Paul Parker thought so too and before long, so did John Greenland, Clive Ward and Stanley Slaughter. If the weather was favourable it became a regular thing for us to walk to Twydall via Livingstone Road, Canadian Avenue, Cornwallis Avenue and Beechings Way, with many a laugh on the way. Then one night we decided to try a different route. Other than a change of scenery, I couldn’t see what we had to gain but with nothing to lose, the spirit of adventure prevailed as we set off along York Avenue.

Before crossing Canterbury Street we blew our bus fare in a newly discovered sweet shop, where the lads treated themselves to red liquorice laces. I stuck to a sixpenny Caramac and some good old penny fizzes – squares of fruity sherbet that dissolved in the mouth and sometimes bubbled up the nose.

A series of unfamiliar streets eventually brought us out on Woodlands Road, where a decision had to be made; either we walked down to Cornwallis Avenue and picked up the usual route home or we took a short cut across the golf course. The verdict was unanimous. We opted for the golf course, going straight over the greens and through the sand bunkers.

On Chilham Road we came to Featherby Juniors, where a football match was about to kick off. ‘C’mon, it’ll be all right,’ said Stan, a former Featherby pupil, as he led us into the grounds. Stan was well received by pupils and teachers alike as we joined dozens of kids cheering the Featherby team in an inter-schools semi final. In an exciting game, a Glenn Barlow hat trick put Featherby in the final. I was impressed by the whole event, and rueful that we’d never had anything like that at Twydall Juniors.

We took that same route home for a month or so, but in truth, it probably took longer, as the cut across the golf course barely made up for the time we’d lost in getting that far. Some days we strolled across the greens, other days we had to move sharpish to avoid irate golfers and that, ultimately, put an end to our trespassing, when an encounter with a club wielding lunatic convinced us not to push our luck any further. It was fun while it lasted though, and I’m glad it lasted long enough for us to catch Featherby winning their cup final. Neil Harris the goalkeeper was the hero this time, saving a couple of penalties in a shoot-out after extra time. ‘I can’t believe it!’ he cried, as the tears rolled down his cheeks.