The Thoughts You've Locked Away

When I was in Primary School, this was the Youth Club at the end of the road.

In front of the Youth Club, was the Sweet Shop, the place to stop off for snacks for the day, or something to eat on the long, long walk home. There was also a photographer's studio. Mr Stewart. It was nice to stop and look in his window and look at the local photographs that he had taken that week.

I didn't particularly like the Youth Club. It was full of people. People older than me, sitting in the dark corners, and sometimes smoking outside. People who were liable to be bad if the occasion arose. Not bad, bad, but trouble that kids cause if given the opportunity.

I only went one night a week, and only sometimes... the only thing I liked was netball, and this room was where the netball was played.

I visited today, with himself. He was doing something scouty,as he is prone to do, and I had a wander around, remembering uneasy feelings about the place.

Nant told me a story about this place,exact same place, 70 years ago - when she was 15. She worked for the newsagent in the town, and at 5pm, she walked from the town to the station; this building sat on the side of the hill up to the station, and as she walked past, she would look in the open fire exit door and could see the Women's Auxiliary Air Force manning their radio stations.

Amazing, isn't it, that it's been the same building, all those years, and oh so busy with all sorts of people, and memories.