This article was first published in the West Sussex Gazette on September 16th 1999

Through my letter-box popped an air mail letter from the other side of the world, with more boyhood recollections of the Arundel of more than half a century ago, recollections that had been evoked by reading another Mullet's memories in WSG of 6 August. (It never ceases to amaze me how many thousands of miles my articles can travel.)

Eben Ballantyne wrote:-
It was with great interest and much nostalgia that I read the article originated by my old friend Graham Pedley in Rob Blann's 'Remember When'. It was sent to me by my sister, Margaret Lee, now of Walberton,.

Our parents, as our name suggests, were Scottish, from Inverness, who came to Sussex in the 1920s. They were followed by our Uncle Ernest and Aunt Barbara. Uncle Ernie was unfortunately an early victim of the war during the first dive bombing raid on Ford Naval Air Station, where he was employed.

'Auntie Babs', however, lived on into her nineties, many years of which she spent in the quaint block of cottages in Tarrant Street with the not too salubrious nickname of 'Bung Row' next to a well known eccentric's eccentric, 'Knocker' Knowles and his equally strange daughter, Millie, who was sadly the victim of a ghastly crime for which the perpetrator was hanged at Lewes in the 1940s.

The mention which Graham made to 'Bern' Kenward and myself was particularly evocative to me as we really were an inseparable trio in our early lives.

A view of Arundel's High Street around 50 years ago.

We spent many happy years wandering the fields, fishing in the river around Arundel, and in Tortington Woods.

Much time was spent on Luckin's Priory and Manor farms, sometimes exasperating the then incumbent farmer, Mr Baden Luckin, who must indeed have been a very tolerant man, for after informing us in no uncertain manner that we spent more time on his farm than he did, continued to allow us to roam and 'help' his workers.

For us that era was a wonderful time in spite of the war and the Battle of Britain raging around us.

We would watch from the Ford airfield perimeter as those brave young men had cups of tea during the refuelling and re-arming of their fighters before taking off again into the skies in a battle which was to decide the future of the whole world.

We little boys and girls did not realise we were witnesses to momentous history in the making. We would cheer the victory rolls of the Spitfires and Hurricanes and then go off to play happily in the hayfields.

Often it was off to school early, not because of academic enthusiasm, rather to inspect our rabbit and mole traps on the way.

Graham mentioned the choir of St. Nicholas' Church and the racy Mr. Manton. I too was a member. I suppose we were technically professional singers as we were paid the princely sum of tuppence a week for our services. This was invariably spent at the shop of Mr. 'Snuffer' Lawrence, next to St. Nicholas' School. It was always so difficult selecting from the myriad sweet jars on display on the counter.

Of course, on Saturday, we were fiscal barons with our weekly sixpence pocket money. Frequently it was off to the hair cutting establishment of Mr. Bertie Gibbons in Tarrant Street which was convenient to the hostelry called 'The Heart in Hand' (more frequently referred to as 'Mary's' after the licensee).

Convenient, that was, for Mr. Gibbons who regularly departed for urgent business at 'Mary's', usually half-way through a haircut, leaving the unfortunate client stranded in the chair.

Then it was off either to the football hopefully to see Arundel thrash the arch enemy, Littlehampton, or to the Arun Cinema to watch the white hats chase the black hats, Laurel and Hardy, or The Three Stooges. If the toilet window was open this entertainment was usually enjoyed for free!

To be continued. The next episode includes memories of Arundel's Jubilee parade and some Mullet characters.

This article was first published in the West Sussex Gazette on September 16th 1999

Tarrant Street, Arundel, pictured early this century.