The Old Park

A Memory of Boston

I shall always remember the old park with great affection. The first time I remember walking through I would only be about five years old; there was a dead blackbird lying on the ground, I gently put my foot on it and it squeaked. I remember ducks swimming in a dyke, the water used to go under a bridge, I sat on that bridge many times, in later years
The war came, they destroyed a big part of it and erected Nissan Huts for the Army. All the war it was fenced in with barbed wire; it would be five years before we could venture in again. We used to get under the wire and see what we could find. A big part was still untouched very old trees hundreds of years old, We got bandoliers of bullets, we walked round the streets like Mexican bandits, we would take the cordite out of the casings, wrap so many sticks in silver paper, like rolling a fag, all this went on in Gostelows boat yard, we would then light the end, it would take off like a rocket and fly in all directions. We used to play Cowboys and Indians in the old park, climb trees, we would race up and down the hills on bikes, in the summer it was really beautiful, the birds singing in the trees, the smell of the alder, bluebells in abundance, and lots of wild flowers. The reservoir put the icing on the cake, it was lovely to walk down on a summer evening; it was salt water supplied by a pump from out of the river Haven; I used to net sticklebacks, all the kids did. The water supplied the old swimming baths, when they destroyed it to make more room for May and Hassle to store their timber it was nothing short of vandalism; why the powers-to-be allowed it to happen is beyond comprehension. It was a valuable asset to the town.

A memory shared by Bob Marriott , on Dec 20th, 2010.

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