But Harry and me decided this was too hard so we kept throwing pieces of ballast at other peoples lamps and knocking them over, in the end the foreman got the shits and we got transferred to another job, this was a wonderful job as we were sent to Stanford-Le -Hope where a single track ran to the refineries at Shell haven (a distance of about six miles)
there was only us two and a ganger who we called Marcus Aralias (because he was an East European) and all we had to do was amble along the track checking for loose fishplate bolts and banging in the loose track nails (and clearing the odd weed or two)
when we had a lunch break Marcus went into a workers hut that was by the side of the track (this was made of old railway sleepers) and me and Harry used to stay outside now this hut had an open coal fire in the middle and Marcus always used to cook his breakfast on it and it was because of this we got the sack.
What happened was one of us (Harry says it was me and I say it was him) quietly climbed up on the roof of the hut and placed a sheet of tin with a brick on top over the chimney, all was quiet for a while then the door burst open and Marcus came rushing out, a pal shade of green and almost choking to death, we thought we had killed him and then for some unknown reason when he came recovered enough to speak he blew his top and told us to piss off and so ended another job.
Harry and I used to go to Southend a lot in the summer and go to the Gliderdrome which was a roller skating rink, neither of us could roller skate but we just went for a laugh and knocking everyone over as we tried to get around the outside of the rink, we used to form a long line and swing around and then the last person at the end of the row would let go and fly out and hit the outside wall.
It was whilst I was going with Harry that we got barred from the Premier Club, now this was a nice club down Lionel Road were we used to go for a few beers and a game of snooker we enjoyed going there but what happened was (and Harry says it was me and I blamed him) we were mucking about playing a game of snooker and one of us pushed the cue right through the green baize on the best table, the manager did his block and threw us out.
Then the truck driving urge burst out from both of us and we got a job with Hall & Company, which was a large sand and ballast merchant, driving tipper lorries we really enjoyed it working from a sand pit at Lindford we used to do six to eight loads a day to Shell haven or six loads a day to the new town they were building at Basildon.
We used to drive like mad and then go to a cafe in Stanford -Le Hope for our dinner, (there was a film made at about this time called Hell Drivers starring Stanley Baker about tipper drivers and we drove just like him). There was a driver called Jack Truss so we called him Jockstrap," one with a big nose he was Simon De Bergerac and another one who was fat we called 'the slug."
There was also a cafe' just down the road from the pit at Lindford where Harry and me used to go and I had a crush on the owners daughter and one Christmas She invited me over to spend the festive season with her and her mother, I did not get my leg over but I had a very enjoyable time, she had a tape recorder and we sang love songs to each other and recorded them, I could not sing then and I still cannot sing but I can tell you this when someone sings love songs to you whilst draped all over you like an octopus it is a wonderful experience.
Then there was the Jolly Boys café at the junction of Beach Road and the High Street with Tiny Tim serving behind the counter ( I think he stood on a box to serve, only joking) and dead opposite was Green glades café which, although not having the mandatory jukebox had one very good asset namely not many patrons and an alcove in the far corner at the front of the café where the owner a Mr. Lilliard used to let us play cards “No money boys” he used to keep telling us And we would tell him we were only playing for matches but as he was rather slow moving by the time he shuffled around the corner to coerce us into buying more tea and toast the money had been replaced and little piles of matches were innocently in front of us.
But the best café on the Island that us boys used to use for gambling was a newer café situated in an arcade of shops that Mr. Taylor who owned the petrol station next door had built nearly opposite New Road in the Village. This café was called the Unic , now this was in the mid fifties when we had all come out of the army ,old enough to drink and drive ,now looking back in hindsight it was a very stupid thing to do but in those days there was no such thing as ?Blow in the Bag sir? or random breath tests and, being young and silly we used to go out drinking, weekends we would drive up to London and do a pub crawl round all the well known ones including The Mile End Tavern and a little one tucked in behind Aldgate bus station and sometimes over the south side of London to the World Turned Upside Down, and Joe Lucy’s pub the Thomas a Beckett , both on the Old Kent Road and The Hole in the Wall, during the summer months we stayed local either Southend or any of the mainland pubs where the coaches used to stop on the way back to London loaded up with tipsy young ladies wanting to enjoy themselves (but that’s another story)
When we came back onto the Island after a nights drinking binge we would drive to the Unic cafe, drive fast up onto the pavement and skid to a halt about six inches from the plate glass window, (just to scare the birds sitting by the window, as you will have guessed we were show offs and lairs) swagger into the cafe' and throw a couple of bob to the girls standing around the juke box for them to play some music ( this two bob played 5 records I think) and then go into the back room where we would have a game of cards (the owner did not mind this providing we would keep buying food and teas and he also liked a game of cards) we played pontoon three or nine card brag at sixpence a hand and he would keep the cafe' open until we all went, sometimes this was as late as 2 in the morning.
Oh the joys of youth
* Joe Overs - Canvey's professional photographer who was always seen riding his bike in much the same style as P. C. Farmer and when you asked him how he was he replied "I'm alright on the whole"
I could go on and on, Tiny Tim from the Jolly Boys café at the beginning of Beach Road, (whose head could just be seem above the counter) Harry Whitcombe a foreman at Gouldings Sheet metal Factory who was also a part time fireman and after the siren had sounded could often be seen peddling furiously down Long Road trying to get to the fire station before the fire went out.
* Billy Hodder - After a year at Gouldings I left and obtained a job on the Harold Hill new town site as a plant fitters mate and a bus used to leave Canvey every morning to transport workers to the site, now the steward on this bus was Billy Hodder (this was Bill's bus and nobody but nobody got on that bus unless Bill said so) and a funnier man I have yet to meet. He would have been the original Arthur English and from the moment I got on the bus until we arrived at the site I was in stitches, jokes rolled out of his mouth in a continual stream and being only 16 at the time a lot of them went over my head, but as everybody else on the bus was laughing so did I. Come to think of it the bus was a Hodder family special as besides Bill there were his brothers Laurie, Ronnie and Buck and two brothers-in-law Bill and Bert ? Lewis and as I said at the start one of the funniest men I have ever met.
I can still visualize Bertie Benson wearing a Trilby Hat and carrying his big brass instrument - I think it was a euphonium. He used to catch the train into the City nearly every day to do a bit of busking and could always be seen walking up Ferry Road towards the station
Also there was a bloke who used to wear smart navy whites in the summer and all through the winter he wore yellow sou westers including a hat and Wellington boots.
Arthur Reid who I suppose would have been Canvey's answer to old man Steptoe
Some of the other characters that I can recall are Mr. Andrews who used to deliver bread around the Island on a three wheeled tradesman’s bike all hours of the day and night, definitely not the fastest thing on three wheels in fact it would be a dead heat between him and a tortoise in a race.
Mr. and Mrs. Harmes who were expert ballroom dancers always in the dance hall floor of the Red Cow on a Saturday night and whilst us lads reluctantly got forcibly dragged onto the floor, shuffling around on the same spot, one hand under your partners bum , the other around the back of her neck, one eye one the clock (seeing how long to chucking out time) and the other eye on your beer Mr. and Mrs. Harmes would be spinning all around the floor oblivious to all the obstacles in their way (us).
* The first one I can recall seeing when I moved to Canvey was the Bird Man who used to stand on the corner opposite the Haystack Pub and feed all the birds and sing to himself, the song went something like this ... I'll be pleased to hear the noisy aero planes shan't I - shocking - the damn noise affects me - I can't work for years and years and years every fortnight. Then he would go and recite a cure for a cold which went something like this "two ounces oil of linseed, one ounce oil of turpentine " etc. a harmless happy person we were told that he was a wartime pilot suffering from shell-shock.
* Mrs. Freeman and her daughter, known as The Cat Lady who wore what I can only describe as St Trinians girls uniform (a short skirt with stockings full of holes)and a beret pulled down over her ears and pushing a Tansad canvas pram around Canvey with her cats wrapped up in blankets lying like a pair of babies in the pram.
* Fred and Bill McCabe - Fred was the Editor of Canvey News and Benfleet Recorder and known to us boys as Canvey's leading crime reporter, we used to rib him every time we saw him by asking him if he had caught any villains lately. His brother Bill was a builder and every time we saw him we would say "Keep your chin up Bill" now all the readers who can recall Bill will know the significance of this remark.
* Jack Bradley known to everyone as Cockle Jack (a rather rotund man) who owned the very popular cafe opposite the Haystack was always outside selling seafood from his stall while his better half Ann and her helper Kit Foster did the serving inside.
* Peggy Della with her red beret - whose rich baritone voice could be heard echoing from the Haystack to Lakeside Corner. Her command of the English language - very colourful to say the least - was an education and her rude answers shouted to us on the other side of the road to some very rude personal insulting questions burnt your ears.
* Peter Bond who always wore a knee length maroon jacket and drove around Canvey in a Hudson Terraplane convertible with his two mates sitting up on top of the back seats the car being previously owned by Dianna Dors (So we were led to believe!)
* Lt. Col. Horace P Fielder a leading Tory Party figure who owned the local caravan park (who I think eventually had the Conservative Hall named after him) and had this fanatical notion in his head that all of the local yobs had but one thing on their minds and that was to rape and pillage every one of his female holiday makers and therefore maintained a 24 hour guard on his site trying to chase off any local intruder with his walking stick, but one man with a limp and a bike was no match for the "Hungry" erect (metaphorically of course)_ Canvey boys who he called "Those horrible Oyster Fleet boys". Looking back in retrospect I would have done the same thing as him.
He also had a very nice looking wife called Barbara who was once a Canvey beauty queen (I think)