The Bathing Hole
The stream in front of the war memorial ran down to the Browney river a few hundred yards below the Dean, where half of the Witton school kids learned to swim in deep pools created by dams made by Harry Bell and Davy Reynolds, they were much older than me and both very good swimmers and catapault makers. A lot of local familys picnicked at the bathing holes or the green bridge. Mr John Holmes, farmer, owned the land along the river and never stopped us from crossing his fields or playing in the river. The vicarage above the camel's hump had a fairly good orchard which we often raided in the autumn nights. The school orchard which was behind the labour hall only had pear trees in it and they were so small and hard, not worth raiding. I've just remembered this while writing, there was always great lumps of black tar floating down the river while we were swimming, how the water rats survived I'll never know, but there were lots of them. I'm not a great typist, Pussy Rain never taught us to type at Witton school.
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