Nurtured By A Proper Town

A Memory of Erith.

I was born in Bexleyheath in 1947,
and after returning from boarding school in the holidays I found that we had moved to Bexley road Erith, it was a very large house, with a basement and three floors, and a garden so large that in later years I taught myself to drive a car in it , but my fondest memories are of the old town , they don't make them like that any more, " what a great pity " my sister and I used to play on the foreshore for hours on end, collecting all sorts of old flotsam, especially clay pipes, we also found the odd spent bullet left over from the recent war, the actual town lent itself to a gentler way of life rarely seen today, the people who lived there at that time were very fortunate and probably did not realise it at the time, now its a concrete wasteland with no heart or soul, not a town any more, just a collection of memories buried under tons of what passes for progress, but fortunately there a plenty of us left who remember the old place for all the right reasons, happy days for those who can remember, yes they were dark days just after the war, and we did not have a lot, but you could always buy a penny ice lolly, or some broken biscuits for Woolworths, or even VV carriers the cake shop. well I could wax lyrical about the old place forever, but if you want to get in touch, my name and e mail are always available, happy reminiscing...

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