On reaching the gap in the fence I decided to take the ‘pretty’ route through the woods that ran parallel to Hamble Lane; it was a truly beautiful morning and the only sounds at that time were of bird-song and the chinking of milk-bottles being delivered to the houses nearby. I remember being tired but happy. The night had been warm and still and had produced for me a couple of hard-fighting wildies and a good perch of nearly two pounds, so I was, indeed, at peace with the world as I slowly pushed my bike along the sun-dappled forest-path….I then received nothing less than a visual punch in the face. There in the undergrowth, completely undisguised and ugly as a wart, was a great mound of domestic rubbish and old newspapers! Having come this way less than twelve hours before I knew both that darkness had provided the cover for this unforgiveable act of vandalism and that daylight would not prevent its ceremonial return…..there had to be an address!
And there it was! Time and again, writ large across the top of every newspaper and magazine – CHILDS 54 HAMBLE – irrefutable proof!
I leant my bicycle against a tree, lowered my fishing tackle to the ground and set about the task of returning the eyesore whence it came. Having staggered upright with the first load, it immediately became obvious that this wasn’t to be a five minute job, rather one that would require six or seven trips and much exposure to the Childs household and their neighbours – but right was on my side! For some twenty minutes, I plied back and forth laden with damp Daily Mirrors, Woman’s Realms, People’s Friends, Suns and News of the Worlds, gladly dumping each bale in the garden of No.54 with the greatest of satisfaction.
