It Was Nearly A

A Memory of Swindon.

My Dad was a copper and one day took me to the Gorse Hill Police Station where he was based.  He and the duty sergeant muttered away quietly hatching a plan to surprise me.

The sergeant took me on a tour of the building, eventually taking me down into the depths to see the cells. He was explaing how policeing had changed over years with Bow Street Runners, Peelers and so on. Eventually he asked if I was brave so, of course, I said yes. He told me to close my eyes and let him guide me into an adventure. At the age of 10 how could I not go on with the fun? I was guided through a door and made to bend forward a little.

Then it happened, my neck was on some hard surface, as were my hands, I heard a laugh as something came down onto me from above. I was in the pillory, the sergeant then offered me the stocks as a next 'treat'! True to my word, I remained brave for several minutes, refusing to cry. I heard another dreadful sound, Dad was behind me laughing his head off.

My adventure ended with a cup of tea and several biscuits, boosted by a huge sigh of relief that it was over.

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