My life on Canvey 1948 to 1970
by Eddie Terry
CANVEY AS I REMEMBER IT - EPISODE
Twelve
"Whilst reminiscing about my enjoyable time on
Canvey Island I can recall one memorial occasion which, at the time,
being young was then to me really nothing but looking back in hindsight
must have been a terrifying thing for my father.
As I have mentioned in a previous posting we used to go down fishing
and lay deadlines, bait them up when the tide was out then go back
and collect the fish (if any) as the tide went out, there were usually
up between 40 to 60 hooks on the lines and when it was cold it was
not a pleasant job trying to push the worms onto the hooks.
The bait we used were rag worms which were large red multi legged
worms with a pair of pincers in their head that could give you a nasty
nip, these we used to dig up from around the base of the old pier
supports.
This derelict pier was just over the sea wall opposite May Avenue
and from there we used to walk out at an angle towards Chapman Lighthouse
and when we were about a couple of hundred yards from the shore we
would bait up our lines, these lines were left out on the mud all
the time as nobody interfered with them and as we followed the tide
out there was no chance for anyone to go out and steal the fish that
were caught on the lines.
Getting back to this incident I recall. Early one morning my dad and
I went down to collect any fish and bait up the lines ready for the
next tide, it was very overcast with a slight mist coming in from
the estuary but not enough to worry about.
Whilst we were concentrating on baiting up we were unaware that the
mist had turned into a fog and we could only see 20 to 30 yards and
when we went to go back to the shore we could not see it at all and
had no idea which direction it laid.
What with all the tramping around the lines footprints everywhere
we could not find our tracks we made coming out."
Cocklng at Shell Beach
"We started to walk one way for a while then
tried another direction but we were hopelessly lost.
I had no idea of the danger we were in but I could sense that my dad
was getting worried because if we walked towards the river there was
what we called the 50 foot drop at the channel’s edge.
By this time there were tracks going in every direction so my dad
started to shout out very loud “Can anybody hear me” time
and time again but we could only hear the sound of the river which
seemed to be coming from every direction and an echo of his voice.
After what seemed like an eternity of shouting there was a voice shouting
back to us so my dad shouted back to him asking him to continue to
shout so we could find our way back to shore, finally we emerged out
of the fog and up onto the sea wall.
It was a bloke who was taking his dog for a walk and was the only
one on the sea wall at that time.
The thing is I could not swim and I do not know if my dad could swim
either so if that bloke was not there at that particular time we could
have been brown bread.
When you think back we were idiots for not taking safety precautions
such as having a compass with us or laying out the deadlines in the
shape of an arrow pointing to the shore.
As you get older you realize that fate decides whether you live or
die, being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Fear is a very funny thing, for example when I was in the army and
stationed in the Canal Zone our camp was on the edge of the Great
Lakes and we had to do our share of guard duties and this entailed
walking around the inside of the perimeter fence all on your Jack
Jones with 10 rounds of live ammunition, every now and again the Arabs
(just to annoy us) would fire the odd round into the camp which would
alert all the camp, upset everyone’s sleep and cause havoc.
And walking around the perimeter you stood out like dog’s balls
against the camp lights but nobody worried about this, you just took
your turn of guard duty as a run of the mill thing.
Looking back now it makes me wonder why we were so blasé."
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"We longed
for summer to arrive as, living at a seaside resort (rather an exaggeration
for Canvey but there) the summer season was crumpet hunting time for
the local youths at the holiday camps during the day.
And as the Tarpots Hotel and The Gun Inn were quite close to us we
would go to these pubs on a Saturday and Sunday night to await the
charabancs (a name that has lapsed into disuse) on their way home
to the Big Smoke to stop for the travellers to have a final fling
on the outing.
Now this was duck hunting season gone mad as the coaches would pull
in, disgorge the load of happy half drunk singing holiday makers who
would make merry and half an hour later back on the coach and away.
Then another load of coaches would pull in and off we would go again
drinking, wooing, dancing and trying our luck on any female that needed
a helping hand.
Many a white lie would be told and many a solemn promise made to some
silly questions like
Will I see you again? Answer yes
Do you love me? Answer yes
Will you come up to London to see me? answer yes, trust me
And when one lot of holiday makers departed then another lot arrived
to be given the same answers to the same questions, Oh! Such was the
joys of life.
I must admit I did enjoy my teenage years, I may not go directly to
heaven and I definitely won’t be going to hell but will be hovering
in the middle, hopefully, because to go to heaven with it’s virginal
purity would be boring and unexciting and if there is a life hearafter
then I would like it to follow the same path as this one."
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(c) Eddie Terry
"At this point I would like to thank my friends
of nearly 60 years Harry and Val Court for jogging my memory on a
lot of things that I had forgotten.
I have now come to the end of my memories of my single life Canvey
in the Fifties and I thank all of those that had the patience and
fortitude to read all of them, and I hope you had as much of a good
time reading them and remembering some of the things that I have mentioned
because I have had a wonderful time writing them.
From 1960 till I left the Island for Australia in 1970 my life was
devoted to providing all the things that a young family needed, We
bought our own chalet, I had a good job that paid well and we had
3 children (all born at home) and when I was married at 26 I had really
enjoyed my single life with very few regrets.
Some people reading them might deduce that the youngsters of the fifties
were a bunch of hooligans but nothing could be further from the truth,
we may have upset some of the older residents with our outlandish
behavior and dress sense and our flamboyant attitude but in all of
us there was no malice, vindictiveness or vandalism.
Our only aim was to have a good time and enjoy ourselves, there were
very few fights with any of the mainland and London boys that came
to Canvey for a holiday because we all had the same goal, duck hunting,
a good pissup and a good feed.
I myself cannot recall any of the Canvey girls being nasty or anti-social
they were all nice and they looked forward to the summer months as
much as us boys for the many new lads that would come down to Canvey
on holiday.
If anywhere in these memories you find an inaccuracy I would be glad
if you let me know, as one’s memory is not infallible and if
anyone has any more memories of their own that they would like to
add to this series they can e-mail me at
mailto: eterry @ primus.com.au and I will answer."