Harold Taylor was a member of the Horsham police force during the 1940's and 50's and recalls his duties at Goodwood.

One of the regular yearly jobs we got was attending Goodwood Races. This was one of our highlights. A damned nuisance, but a change. It usually meant a 12-hour day, and I believe originally we got no extra pay for it, but took time off in lieu.

However, after the cutting of the working week to 44 hours we did get paid for it and it was worth somewhere just over three pound per hour for the overtime.

To get to Goodwood, we from Horsham Division were to travel by Southdown bus. On one occasion I don't suppose there was more than about 15 of us in this old open decked bus. We travelled there ok, but the journey home was another thing.

I cannot remember where the trouble started, but the bus started coughing and spluttering and emitting loud bangs.

We got as far as Pulborough, but the bus just could not make it up the hill. We were stuck on this narrow road, with all the summer traffic trying to pass us.

It was considered to be dirty fuel or a blocked carburettor, but no one had tools to take anything apart so we had to await a spare bus coming out from Horsham to pick us up. We were all embarrassed, tired and hungry.

At another meeting I was on duty on the coach park, and during the period before the racing started found myself in company with a charabanc full of licensees from Horsham. They had mountains of food and crates and barrels of beer, not forgetting plenty of spirits.

When racing started the driver and I carried on drinking and eating. I had a skilful and I do not think that the driver could have been in a fit condition to drive home.

However, as the meeting ended I was controlling the traffic leaving the park, although not feeling very good. Later another constable (Bert Heaseman) came and took over and advised me to sit down behind some vehicles out of the way.

If I was in any condition that night going home it was hidden behind the fact that Joe Wyatt had got in a worse condition and was causing trouble in the Tattersall Ring where he was on duty. So much so, that they had locked him up in a shed.

It was always usual to stop at the Swan Public House at Tortington on the way home (now the Arundel Resort Hotel). I distinctly recall that I was not in any mood for beer that night.

When I got home I went straight to bed and my wife insisted on the windows being wide open because of the fumes. I was terribly ill later.

Harold Taylor, West Sussex, 2001