In 1957 when he was in his early 30s Harold Taylor joined Trinity House to become a lighthouse keeper. Harold continues:

After whatever leave I had from Orfordness Lighthouse, I received notice to report to Portland Breakwater Lighthouse, by reporting to the Queen's Harbour Master at the Dockyard. I suppose also I must have been given a telephone number or some means of contacting the keepers. I certainly recall finding myself on the very cold and windy seafront of Weymouth, in what I could only describe as the most desolate and miserable looking of seaside resorts.

I was taken to the dockyard by the provider of the groceries and deposited there after showing my pass. During the afternoon I was taken aboard a steam pinnace, which went under the grand name of the Queen's Harbour Master's Launch. This was manned by three dockyard employees and not naval personnel.

The water was a bit choppy as we headed across the harbour to the west entrance, outside of which it was quite rough; it seemed a bit stupid to be out there. We came to a hole in the wall with steps up to the top of the breakwater, and the waiting crew. It was quite a difficult landing. Here I changed places with the PK (principal keeper) whose name was Tommy Tucker. He was reputed to be a Freemason, and claimed to be a First World War fighter pilot.

Jeff Clements was the KIC (keeper-in-charge) and Peter Cheyney was the other keeper. Peter lived locally, but Jeff came from London and I understand he gained the Lloyds Silver Medal for gallantry when saving two men whilst at the Smalls Lighthouse, where he was a keeper. The launch servicing the lighthouse was overturned by surging seas, casting the occupants into the swell. Jeff dived in and rescued them. He died, sadly, early in his service from a respiratory infection or disease. Whether it could be referred back to his immersion in the water I do not know.

The accommodation set up at this station was rather peculiar. It had originally been two-handed, so this may account for it. The main building was a brick built, rectangular structure. Entering it, you came into a hall, with a passage off to the right that led to a toilet and bathroom. On one wall of this offshoot there were cupboards for storing foodstuff. The main passage led into the kitchen/living room, where there was a square table in the middle of the room and just about room to walk round it if the chairs were pushed in.

On the right side of the room was the range, but I cannot remember what type it was, I seem to think that it was one of the old black, Cornish ones, which heated the water. Through the far side wall was a doorway into the bedroom where the two keepers slept. Just before one went through the doorway there was a sink where all the work was done.

The PK had created a bedroom for himself in another hut further along the breakwater, in what was really the workshop. As spare hand, I also used this. Fortunately here we had electric lighting, supplied by the dockyard. The Breakwater had been occupied until quite recently by the Coastal Defence Batteries, which had only just been disbanded. All of the guns etc. had been removed, but the abandoned quarters were still there, having been stripped of all the fittings and fixtures.

There was an air raid shelter between the main building and the light tower, which had been converted into a coal store and oil store. It is my guess that during the war the station was taken over by the services and they either did not use the light, or made it electric to suit their own purpose. Not long before I went there, there had been a big programme of installing a new lens and clock mechanism. I managed to get a section of prism from the remains left behind.

The light tower itself was a peculiar structure, substantially a metal tube about six feet in diameter, supported by some vertical girder work. At the top of the tube it opened out into the lantern where there was a 50mm hood burner. The IOB (incandescent oil burner) was peculiarly situated. The tanks were in the room below the lantern and quite different to the usual equipment. The weight tube was very narrow and went down the centre of the tube around which the spiral staircase climbed.

The clock was very neat and tidy taking up very little room, but taking a long time to wind because the spindle was small. It took over 800 turns to wind up and even then, I think it still only ran for about an hour and a quarter.

It was the habit of us keepers to go for a walk along the breakwater after having lit up, poking our noses into different places. There was an experimental torpedo firing point half way along, and people were out most days working there. Jeff had found or scrounged a lobster pot which he put down, and there was also a prawn pot to inspect.

One night soon after I had arrived, we had commenced the nightly amble when Jeff chanced to look round at the light that I had lit about 20 minutes earlier. He noticed that it was fading, so we rushed back and fairly quickly established that the IOB was losing pressure. Having restored it we proceeded on our way, but we never established why it had failed.

During our evening sojourn in the kitchen, Jeff had a nasty habit of suddenly pinging one with a piece of folded paper catapulted with an elastic band. This led to rather a painful past time created by me. In our trips round the dismantled buildings I had noticed a lot of stripped out electric wiring. I therefore stripped the rubber insulation off the wires for my catapult, and used the stiffer outer cover of the cable as my ammunition.

Having started the attack outside and at long distance was quite acceptable, but we went too far. In the small confines of the kitchen the projectiles were quite lethal. We would finish up with bright red weals all over our body as though we had been meted out some severe punishment. We did make rules not to use the weapon indoors, but it was not always observed. Unfortunately I only stayed at the station a month, but I suppose that it was one of the best months I spent with a couple of chaps, who were good fun and keen spirited.

There was the opportunity to go ashore at this station, but I never took advantage of it. One only had to contact the Harbour Master's office early in the morning and the launch would pick you up at about 10.00 am and bring you back at 2.00 pm. Having got all my groceries in one go, I was well stocked. I believe each of the others went ashore once. I don't blame Peter for doing so, as he did live close by. It was also convenient to get fresh meat and vegetables.

An interesting sight for me was the second nuclear submarine, the Skate arriving in the harbour right under my nose. Unfortunately I had used up all my film on our own warships to be able to photograph it. I was amazed at the gigantic bow wave that these vessels produced.

A work crew came out to service 'The Dockyard Gates'. I had noticed at each entrance to the harbour, dangling from the walls, were thick mooring chains. Until this day I did not know that that was the way they sealed the harbour against other vessels. The peculiar thing in my opinion was that the chains were controlled from the isolated breakwater section instead of the sections that could be reached from the mainland. It seemed a daft idea to me, but it may have had its practical application, such as over running.

However, in an engine room below the breakwater, was an engine in immaculate order. The purpose of this was to draw the chains up tight and prevent access by other ships. To my knowledge there were two chains, one set at the height of high water and the other at low water, whether there was anything lower is just a guess. Apparently there was the same arrangement each end of this central section.

It did make me wonder what they might have had to prevent encroachment by a midget x-class submarine, the type that we saw exercising within the harbour. It was strange to see these craft manoeuvring with their crew apparently standing on the water.

A story filtered down about this station later in my service; the staff had changed and Arthur Robertson was KIC and another chap, Lane, were on the station. They could not get the best of Tommy. Lane went ashore on leave and Robby came on station, but for some reason Tommy was also ashore. Lane was a bit of a boffin, and had fitted up some device to aggravate Tommy. He had been caught out by the change of relief.

I can only presume that in some way he had fitted up an electrical device, perhaps in the form of a resistance, which operated in contact with water but was not dangerous to personnel. The outcome of this was that each time that the toilet was flushed, the lights dimmed.

Robby put up with this for a time, but eventually reported it to the maintenance branch of the dockyard. They apparently were grateful for this information as they had been bugged by the same problem, lights suddenly dimming and power decreasing for some unaccountable reason. After nearly blacking out the whole of the dockyard, I gather that an army of investigators was dispatched to the breakwater to try and solve this problem, without success.

When Robby related this occurrence to Lane on his return, he showed no indication what the cause was, but overnight the station returned to normal, and no one was any the wiser. Lane was also a bit of a food freak and turned up on relief with 12 boxes of cornflakes as his only food stocks. There was another strange story of this fellow, who is alleged to have turned up at bookings with his sister as a double act for tea dances; her on the piano and him on the violin, (which he could not play).

Later, before he left the service, he had been on the Eddystone, where he had perfected a barometer recording device, which the Met Office were reputed to have been keen to purchase from him. I do not know how it worked, but I was told that he had a device under the bunks at that station that disturbed the PK because it emitted flashing lights. There were many oddities within the service; perhaps I was regarded as another.

Some of the enmity with Tommy came about over a boat. It was reputed to have come from one of the naval vessels that had acted as lighthouse tenders during the war. She was a French vessel, taken possession of after Dunkirk. When hostilities were over she was disbanded, as Trinity's own vessels returned to service. Somehow Tommy had been offered this whaler and regarded it as his own personal possession, although others had different views.

It was a heavy and unmanageable craft, but all were prepared to have a go, to break the boredom. When Tommy was on station no one else was allowed near it, although he commandeered their services to get the boat in and out of the water. It was hauled up on a hand winch.

From here Harold went on to work at the Needles Lighthouse for three months.