Eastgate

A Memory of Nork.

To the right-hand side of the flats was another parade of shops called Eastgate. Here there was Mrs North, the fishmonger, and Apps, the papershop, as well as a hairdresser and greengrocer and petshop where l had my first Saturday job. Eastgate always seemed quieter and more out of the way somehow. My Dad, would come home to Banstead station on the commuter train from London Bridge and my mum and l would meet him at Eastgate, once we had a car. I remember the smell of the hawthorn bushes in blossom, and pelting him with the hawthorn berries in the autumn as he walked along the path from the station!