Shelter
How could I forget these shelters (there were two of them)? We moved to North Deal in 1954 when I was 10. The shelter at the top of Farrier Street was nearest to me - a place to stand in a storm, I practised hitting hockey balls against the concrete steps, my beloved Granny used to sit on one side and watch the sea, our tenant, in Indian Army officer (retired and without much money) used to sit in the shelter too, very lonely I think, remembering better times. They were the refuge of lovers at night, of fishermen at dawn, of mothers with prams and toddlers on hot summer days. Last time I was in Deal (2007) 'my' shelter was pretty well derelict, the glass all gone, the walls defaced with graffiti. My son couldn't understand why I would stand in such a place staring at the sea, tears in my eyes; or why, without a word, I jumped from the sea wall onto the shingle and went down to the waves. It's what I always did.
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RE: RE: Shelter
The "coverin'" seats was the term we used in about 1936 - not the aesthetic structure there in William's years- but it has the same associations for me - as a boy I chased about the "covered in seats" and later there cuddled my only girl- friend. (I still do so.) We left old Deal in 1964 and still miss the salt air, the smell of frying fish from the side street fishermens' houses - Freddie Neeve the greengrocer, the Upton brothers, and recollect the danger of the War years, the excitement in Alfred Square at Victory celebrations - and so on... On each visit I wander the streets and recall the numerous customers I served as part of Lambert Laundries business. My forebears, both Smith and Piddock ,have been in Deal and environs some 5 centuries I still belong...
Comment from Herbert Piddock on Saturday, 13th March 2010.
RE: RE: Shelter
Ahhh...I lived at 5 Market Street in the mid 1950s with my sister Judith and our grandma and grandad and what a fab place it was. At night you could climb out on to the valleys of slate roofs and smell the salt air and hear the crashing of waves on the shingle beach and if you were really lucky the fisherman over the back alleyway would be smoking fresh kippers. I also had a good mate, Johnny Martin, along middle-street whose dad was a chimmny sweep...I wonder where they are now?
Comment from David Earnshaw on Wednesday, 14th September 2011.