Taking a walk
We’d usually begin our walks at his off just of Muller Road in Horfield, Bristol. “We” being my Grammar School (High School) friend Stephen Meyer and I. With a sandwich in my bag I’d have taken the 83 ‘bus from my home to the end of his street. In Passover time I’d leave my leavened bread in the Meyer’s garden shed before Stephen and I set out on our walk.
Always his mother Greta would see us off with her “blessings, blessings” in a soft and gentle German accent.
Stephen and I would sometimes then take the 83 ‘bus again down to Eastville Park, avoiding the hill up over Purdown.
Eastville Park was (is) the big public park in East Bristol. It has a big lake for fishing and canoeing. Nanny Povey who lived nearby would joke that she was taking her holiday in the “Lake District”. Then, after a pause, she would add “Eastville Park”.
Eastville Park was also one of my favourite haunts on winter Saturday afternoons. There, when I was about 13 or 14 I would go to watch the young men play football (soccer), feigning an interest in the game, but with a truer interest in the players. This was all a bit furtive as I’d convinced myself that these young men knew exactly why I was there, and that one of them would call out “bugger off you little pansy”. It never happened.
But back to my rambles with Stephen. We’d set out from the park along the valley of the River Frome (pronounced Froom). This would take us along a footpath to Blackberry Hill, Just before Blackberry Hill we’d pass an erie area where the “Sheasby Twins’” bodies had been found, covered by a blanket of leaves. Their murderer was never found.
We’d cross the road to Snuff Mills. pass a row of pretty little terraced cottages, one of which was a Methodist Chapel (where I preached many times in later years).

Then to the old Snuff Mill with its waterwheel and manicured gardens.

The river walk would take us through Oldbury Court (another wonderful public park) with it’s weir on the Frome.

In autumn the walk would be deliciously crunchy as we trod on fallen leaves. Sometimes we’d pick up “conkers” (horse chestnuts) to use later in the English schoolboy game.
From Oldbury Court we’d go through Frenchay Village to the Common with its high spired Church and its Quaker Meeting house where we’d sometimes stop to listen to the tick-tock of the old wall clock.


Those were simple and lovely days. Stephen and I, with all the wisdom of youth, would have set the world right in our taking, and we’d have enjoyed nature before we knew that it was called nature.
Always his mother Greta would see us off with her “blessings, blessings” in a soft and gentle German accent.
Stephen and I would sometimes then take the 83 ‘bus again down to Eastville Park, avoiding the hill up over Purdown.
Eastville Park was (is) the big public park in East Bristol. It has a big lake for fishing and canoeing. Nanny Povey who lived nearby would joke that she was taking her holiday in the “Lake District”. Then, after a pause, she would add “Eastville Park”.
Eastville Park was also one of my favourite haunts on winter Saturday afternoons. There, when I was about 13 or 14 I would go to watch the young men play football (soccer), feigning an interest in the game, but with a truer interest in the players. This was all a bit furtive as I’d convinced myself that these young men knew exactly why I was there, and that one of them would call out “bugger off you little pansy”. It never happened.
But back to my rambles with Stephen. We’d set out from the park along the valley of the River Frome (pronounced Froom). This would take us along a footpath to Blackberry Hill, Just before Blackberry Hill we’d pass an erie area where the “Sheasby Twins’” bodies had been found, covered by a blanket of leaves. Their murderer was never found.
We’d cross the road to Snuff Mills. pass a row of pretty little terraced cottages, one of which was a Methodist Chapel (where I preached many times in later years).

Then to the old Snuff Mill with its waterwheel and manicured gardens.

The river walk would take us through Oldbury Court (another wonderful public park) with it’s weir on the Frome.

In autumn the walk would be deliciously crunchy as we trod on fallen leaves. Sometimes we’d pick up “conkers” (horse chestnuts) to use later in the English schoolboy game.
From Oldbury Court we’d go through Frenchay Village to the Common with its high spired Church and its Quaker Meeting house where we’d sometimes stop to listen to the tick-tock of the old wall clock.


Those were simple and lovely days. Stephen and I, with all the wisdom of youth, would have set the world right in our taking, and we’d have enjoyed nature before we knew that it was called nature.
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