96 September 1968

‘Look after David.’

‘Yes Mam.’

Mam’s concern for my brother on his first day at Upbury Manor was only to be expected, and my responsibly doubled when Michael Reagan, a classmate of Dave’s Twydall Juniors, turned up at our door following orders from his father. ‘Meet up with the Lynch brothers. The older one knows the way.’

Mister Reagan was well informed, as he would be, being a member of the Rainham Mark Social Club like my dad.

Dave looked very smart in his new school uniform, even with my old satchel. Mam had intended to buy one for him and she surely would have, if I hadn’t been quick to pounce with a bare faced lie that spared me the shame of going into the upper school with a bloody satchel.

‘He can have mine. I don’t need a satchel anymore.’

Satchels were a bit namby-pamby for the third year, I thought, and I was more than satisfied with its replacement – a vinyl pouchy thing that I got from Woolworths. Cheap and cheerful, certainly, but unquestionably more grown up. 

A year on from its implementation, M&D’s decision to use the depot as a stop for our buses was still causing confusion. Catching a 1, 1A or 1B was easy; the hard part was knowing which direction it was going in.

Everyone stepped back when David ‘Woody’ Wood, a first year boy from Twydall, hopped on a bus after school one afternoon. Everyone suspected the bus was going the wrong way, but nobody could be sure. We were still uncertain when it pulled out of the depot and stopped at the traffic lights on Duncan Road. If the bus turned right, down Gillingham Road, Woody would have made mugs of us. Unlucky for him, it did not. A big cheer went up when the bus turned left. Two minutes later there was another big cheer when the breathless Woody came running back.

At Priestfield Stadium… on Saturday September 14^th I saw Gillingham wallop Brighton 5-0. Carl Gilbert scored twice. Chuffed to have seen so many goals, I left the ground happy, not knowing that my Priestfield afternoons had just come to an end.