Annual YouthClub Outing |
To Weymouth - Bank Holiday Monday2nd September 1968. |
| Whilst clearing
out a cupboard a few weeks ago I came across several old St. George
Grammar School notebooks. They were full of scraps of writing from
long ago.
Among them was this "poetic" account of a Youth Club coach
trip to Weymouth. I present it in all it's glory and apologize
only to Jean .... for my fevered imagination! |
I remember that morning, that summer, that year. We all arrived early before 8 o'clock with our blaring transistors pressed close to our ears. The coach arrived almost five minutes late. No luxury there, just a functional state! We all clambered in, grabbed the back seat and stuck up our posters, but the singing had to wait. |
I remember the sun which greeted our arrival; the amusement park and the Wild Mouse; the submarines and the slot machines and Pauline's face in the Crazy House! Then we split up and some went with friends. We stayed on the 'Mouse' careering round bends and the sun crept behind a cloud.
I remember the gleaming motor bikes, roaring like proud lions; the walk through the town, the Museum, the beach and the sculpture in sand we were trying to reach. We trampled the pebbles which crunched underfoot and found a quiet spot and tucked into our food. Some went for a swim, I stayed with their clothes. I saw her once, a glimpse, a smile and a wave but she came and went all too soon and a cloud rolled in front of the sun.
I remember queuing up for a boat, then giving up. We went back to the Swanery, the funfair, a cup of cold tea. Then we tried the Big Wheel and the Ghost Train and soon met up with our friends again. I saw her once or twice, but not enough. A cloud crossed the sun and the sea grew rough.
I remember our laughing and chatter as we made for the track to the coach which lay gleaming to take us all back. We all clambered aboard and I glanced at the paper and we all waved 'goodbye' to the sea until next year. I remember the journey home quite well. We tried to sing but were much too tired. The light was slowly ebbing from the sky and I found a seat all for me and closed my eyes. I woke again in Castle Cary where we'd stopped to stretch our legs. Some got out for fish and chips, we went in search of kegs! I remember how we raced through the town trying to find a quiet little pub where we could down a pint or two. Three hundred yards along the road our frenzied pace had somewhat slowed and someone shouted "This one will do". I had a pint and Chris had two! It was a small, cosy-corner pub. I remember that drink well. A long, slow, cool drink. Then the ringing of a bell. We would be late but we didn't care. The coach would still be waiting there.
I remember the faces of the people who read our posters as we left. I remember the crisps and grapes and sleep coming slowly, and all the while the coach was homing. I sat by her but she never saw me, for she was dreaming deep inside. I went to sleep and sleep comes easy with an angel by your side. There was an "Oggy, Oggy, Oggy" and we were there. My angel awoke refreshed and fair.
I remember the look on her face as I gave her her shoes. I remember her tousled hair as she tumbled from the coach. I remember the warm glow on her cheeks as we made our way to Pauline's. I remember her kindness as she made us all coffee. I remember her tired head resting on my knee, asleep. I remember all these things about that day, and yet, I mean, I remember the funfair, sunshine, girls; but most of all, my Jean.
(Written on the 8th September 1968)
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