Tankerton Picnic
1948 was a year of new experiences for me. I was approaching my fifteenth birthday and about to leave school. The geography teacher tapped me on the shoulder and told me to go to the headmasters office immediately. ‘What for sir? I enquired, wondering what I could have done to justify such an unusual summons .’Nothing to worry about’ he said.
‘Ah yes,sit down Uphill (my name at the time) said the headmaster as he studied some papers on his desk.
‘There has been a new law introduced whereby any mother can claim her child if it was taken away from her. Do you understand ?’
‘ Err – well no sir-my mother is Mrs.Tapp.’
‘No-no, she is your foster mother, but you have a birth mother, she is your real mother and she wants to reclaim you. You are a lucky lad, you now have 2 mothers. He adjusted his glasses and stared at me with an expression of wonder that anyone could be mad enough to want to claim me.
.’Go away Uphill and think about it, the decision is yours, She cannot claim you if you don’t want to be claimed. Report back here at 2.o’clock tomorrow and let me know your decision.
The school governors decided I should spend the first half of the summer holidays with my real mother and the second half with my foster mother.
So, I met my real mother and other members of the family for the first time. I traveled on a train for the first time. I went to the sea-side for the first time. My family lived on the south east coast by the sea. They called my mother Flossy, she looked too young to be a mother, but she had been under age when she gave birth to me.
The other members of the family consisted of a much older cigar smoking man with a long dark overcoat and trilby hat called Pop. An elderly lady with a loud voice and physique to match who seemed to run things. She was my granny. A pretty girl about sixteen years old called Chic apparently she was my Auntie. . There were other aunts and uncles who appeared and disappeared never to be seen again. My family tree remains a bit of a riddle to this day.
On the second day of the summer holiday Flossy suggested we go for a picnic to Tankerton. Pop puffed on his cigar and pointed to the dark clouds above ‘Not a good day for a picnic’ he said.
‘Nonsense, said Gran, the sun will come out later, you’ll see, I’ll sort some sandwiches with that nice Gorgonzola cheese. Flossy can you sort out some cake and biscuits, oh-and don’t forget the flask. ’
Chic decided not to go, she wasn’t a fan of picnics. I had never seen Gorgonzola cheese before. It didn’t look good and it smelt awful. It was exciting getting on a train for the first time. We had the carriage to ourselves apart from a middle aged lady sitting opposite. Her eyes were focussed on the carrier bag Flossy had on her lap. The look on her face conveyed her thoughts as she twitched her nose. Her expression seemed to say” What on earth is buried in that bag’. Pop puffed out a cloud of cigar smoke which didn’t improve the overpowering smell of the cheese. I found myself staring at the ladies earrings which dangled almost down to her shoulders. They gently swung back and forth with the motion of the train in a mesmerizing sort of way. I noticed the heavy mascara and lipstick and her brightly printed dress covered with wildflowers and guessed she was probably in the theatrical profession.
We arrived at Tankerton and I was disappointed with the beach and not surprised we had it all to ourselves. it wasn’t sand but shingle and pebble. Flossy did manage to find a small flat patch for us to sit on. Then Gran let out a howl of disbelief ‘Flossy you silly moo you’ve put the bloody milk bottle upside down, The sandwiches were all soggy and the biscuits and cake were a mushy mess. I was beginning to not like picnics and wished I hadn’t come like Chic., I was hungry but the sandwiches were a non starter and the cake and biscuits were a write off. But Gran was determined to salvage the Gorgonzola. She laid out a tablecloth and spread the sandwiches out to dry. She told Flossy to put some stones in each corner to stop the wind blowing it away. I went to get some bigger pebbles as I thought they were inadequate.. Before I could gather more pebbles there was a sudden gust of wind and the tablecloth rose into the air like some ghostly apparition unloading the sandwiches as it headed towards the sea. There was a short shocked silence as Pop cantered off in pursuit of the cloth. Flossy giggled uncontrollably when his trilby hat took off heading towards the waters edge. Pop paused briefly ,but decided his hat had priority..
‘Never mind yer bleeding at-get the cloth.’ yelled Gran, Flossy joined in the chase and just stopped the cloth dropping into the sea. Pop was less fortunate as his hat led him a bit of a dance, every time he stooped to pick it up it surged forward again. He finally plucked it out of the surf and got his feet wet as well.
I thought that was the end of the picnic, but Granny thought otherwise. The cloth was laid out again and more securely tethered to the beach.’We came here to have a picnic she said and a picnic we shall have, There were eight sandwiches and she carefully inspected each one flicking off the odd piece of seaweed and grit. Flossy said she wasn’t hungry and I declined the invitation to join in the feast despite Grans attempts to persuade me. ‘Go on lad, it’ll put hairs on yer chest.’
Gran and Pop got stuck into the sandwiches without waiting for them to dry out
Which would have been pointless as it started to rain. They scoffed the lot.
I was relieved to get home and have a plate of sausage and chips. Pop went to bed early with the guts ache, blaming the damp cheese sandwiches. Flossy was still giggling and telling Chic about Pops hat getting dunked in the sea. Gran joined in the laughter ‘Yeah the silly old fool, he looked like one of them cart horses chasing a bit of nookie, cantering after his hat and he was still puffing on his bloody cigar. There will never be a repeat of the Tankerton picnic, but I’ve grown quite partial to the odd bit of Gorgonzola cheese.