September 16th !7:30 Escape to a story.
After causing mayhem on Chertsey Chatter, yesterday, I thought I should quickly tell a story.
It is 1947, a nice sunny day. I am walking across the level crossings, on my way to the ‘rec, when I met the very lovely Diana Symonds.
She lives next to the Gas Works, and was coming out of the path that runs along the railway.
I am 15, and Diana, is one of our crowd of teen-agers who hang about up the rec.
Normally, she would be with a couple of other girls, like her friend Elsie Lemmin.
But as there was just the two of us, and I think she would rather be some where else, the conversation soon dried up.
Now, I should explain, since we were bombed out in Pyrcroft Road, I developed some nervous habits, such as an uncontrolled wink when I am under stress, also I have a habit of counting everything, such as stairs and railings.
I tried to think very hard of something interesting to say, and I could feel a bit of winking coming on, so I said. “Diana, do you know there are 280 paving slabs between The Bell and the Station Hotel”?
She stopped walking and just looked at me for what seemed ages, and then said. “Oh dear, I think I’ve left the gas on”. And then turned around and ran back up the path that runs along the Railway.
Later, whenever we met up the ‘rec’ with the rest of the gang, I never managed to catch her eye.