Fifties Par

A Memory of Par.

My parents opened Roselyon School, on the St Blazey road out of Par, in 1953, when I was nine years old, and ran it until they retired in 1970. Hence I knew Par pretty well both as young boy, teenager and young adult.
Walking into Par from Roselyon, you passed Leaders, a grocery and sweet shop, on the corner that turned from the St Blazey road towards the Harbour. We used to spend our Saturday sixpences there. Then came a newsagent followed by Mr Harold Tout's hardware store. He also opened in 1953 and struggled on for years, swearing that if he had his life over again he'd never go self-employed. Around from him was Philips, a clothing store, and as you approached the level-crossing Des Matthews for fresh fish, fruit and vegetables. Crossing the railway line and the old bridge took you into Par proper, with the Post Office on the left and Husband's the barber on the right. Further along Par Green was the Welcome Home Inn with Terry Neville as landlord. Just a small pub, but with as good a landlord as you could find anywhere in England.
We spent many sunny afternoons on Par beach. The sea was always a pale turquoise due to the huge effluence of china clay from the nearby stream, and the flats, with the tide out, were a white clay ooze with little sand. Around from the beach was Booley Bay, free of the ooze and with lovely rock pools. Often we used to walk from Par round the Gribben to Fowey, where we had a cream tea at the Seagull Cafe before catching a bus back.
My two brothers and I became keen fishermen and spent many hours fishing off the end of the main Par Harbour breakwater. Later we bought a wooden 18-ft boat which we kept inside the breakwater, and fished all around St Austell bay. From Roselyon we could easily see the rocks our side of Polkerris, and the chimney stacks at the harbour, so we were forever watching for water calm enough to take the boat out. We had huge catches of mackerel on Callyvardor rock, and a few bass and sea trout trolling along Spit Beach. But truth to tell, the fishing was pretty poor around Par because of the china clay. We usually had to motor out to the Gribben. In those days it was not uncommon to find fifteen ships anchored up in the bay waiting to enter the harbour.
I walked, cycled and later drove through those Par streets a thousand times. But the magic was the shops as a small boy, and then the Welcome Home Inn. Leaders was stacked with chocolate, the newsagent next to Tout's had The Dandy and The Beano, Tout's had basic fishing tackle and a good old moan. It was all personal service. Life seemed so simple then. Once, at the age of ten, I had some kind of infectious illness and was boarded out with the Middletons, a husband and wife who had a terrace cottage close to Leaders. He worked on the railway and brought home eight pounds a week. They were such a kind couple. One of her greatest prides was that her cat would retrieve items you threw for it.
Ah, nostalgia ...