[jambutty]

Like most kids of my age group I was the family slave and my older brother never seemed to do anything. Pocket money was top of my wish list but I rarely got any.

I wanted to join the scouts and did at Sacred Heart Church. I never had a full uniform though but my older brother did have. I had a neckerchief and my very own woggle and eventually a hat and shirt but they were cast offs from some kid who left the scouts. The weekly meetings were fun with learning and games. British Bulldog was my favourite ‘cos we could scrag the scoutmaster and get away with it. But the senior scouts would treat us kids as slaves.

During the summer school holidays we would live under canvas for a weekend and guess who the slaves were? Once a month the scoutmaster would organise a hike to somewhere, which meant a bus ride to Whalley a long, long hike over Pendle or somewhere with stopovers en-route to make a fire and make a brew. No prizes for guessing who the slaves were.

It was on one such hike that I discovered that a saucepan on an open fire is not like a saucepan on the gas cooker. In other words the handle got hot, very hot. I grabbed it to pour out the boiling coffee and let go faster than I grabbed it and burned my hand quite severely. Being a scout I wrapped my hand in a dry and clean handkerchief (that was the teaching for burns - we had got past the coat a burn with butter or flour thinking) and discovered that if cold air flowed over my hand the burning sensation eased. I then reasoned that a wet handkerchief would do the same thing so I plunged my hand in a nearby stream. It worked too until it got warm. I played on that injury for weeks at school because being my right hand I was not able to write.

The best part of these hikes was getting back to Whalley and whilst waiting for the bus to Accy we would descend on a little café that made the best coffee that I have even tasted.

Miffed at not being able to have a complete scout uniform I chucked them in favour of the Air Training Corps because they gave each person a full uniform. I also had another reason for quitting. The scouts wouldn’t let me join the cast for the annual ‘Gang Show’. The ATC was much like the scouts with marching and rifle drill thrown in. The highlight was a weeks camp at RAF Anglesey where we all got a flight in a Tiger Moth AND we were allowed to actually fly it. In reality we were allowed to hold the ‘stick’ and move it (gently, ever so gently) from one side to another and forwards and backwards to make the plane turn left and right and rise and dive. I guess the pilot had a firm grip on his stick just in case.

Strange that I should opt to join the Royal Navy!

The point of all this is that in the late forties and fifties there WERE youth clubs run by churches and some schools and scouts, sea cadets, ATC, Boys Brigade and Army Cadets where kids could occupy their leisure hours without getting into trouble.

Sadly today there isn’t a great deal for the kids to occupy their leisure hours except how they do.