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Mr Flops getting nostalgic here, forgive me... 
Musing on tales past a few transport related tales involving me and the Royston.
Around 1970 Roy was driving this fridge lorry about to earn a crust. The fridge lorry needed a driver with an HGV licence, Roy would only have have been 19 or 20 at the time and you needed to be 21 to drive an HGV lorry. C’est La vie, tres naughty, Roy used his Dad’s licence which meant we had to call him Jimmy if we were pulled by the old Bill.
I used to accompany him sometimes just for the craic and one morning we found ourselves heading from Swanley to Hatfield which meant driving through central London to join up with the A1.
We came to the top of a steep hill adjacent to Highgate Cemetery waiting first in the queue at a red light. Roy thought it was dead funny to rev up and let the clutch out sharply which made this ungainly lorry do a wheelie and at the top of this hill Mr Rogers was doing this a lot and having a good chuckle.
Unfortunately around the fifth time he done it mechanical stress came into play and the diff broke, all four bolts sheared off making the prop shaft drop to the ground and making the lorry immobile. Needless to say when the lights turned green the other vehicle drivers behind us weren’t too happy. This road was a narrow two lane affair and soon a traffic jam built up behind us.
In time a policeman arrived who spoke to us and determined we weren’t moving until a repair crew came out and made repairs and told us it was his job to direct traffic until that happened. He also told us when he was ordered to this task he had just finished his night shift and had to stay with the broken down lorry until it was repaired. Needless to say this did not fill him with glee and we sensed a somewhat hostile feeling radiating from him towards us.
We walked down the hill to the Archway roundabout and took breakfast in a cafe. Not having anything to do except wait for Mr Mechanic to arrive and make good the fridge lorry, at opening time we went into the Archway Tavern and ordered a couple of pints of bitter. This is the pub where the Kinks had the picture taken for the front cover of their LP ‘Muswell Hillbillies’.
We kept checking if the lorry was ready to be driven but the repairs took time and at 4pm we finally left the pub having consumed several more pints of bitter and beat the locals at Pool. We were p****d as Parrots.
That poor policeman finally got to go home 8 hours after his shift had finished and we climbed into the cab of the lorry and somehow made it home. On reflection perhaps we should have gone walkabout locally, perhaps visited Highgate Cemetary but we were young and the pub seemed like the only option. Very naughty I know but that’s what happened.
In the same vehicle, I think it was August bank Holiday, we set off to Margate for the day and were chugging merrily along the A20/M20 when we noticed there were lots of hitch hikers along the route. Roy decided to stop for them and let them into the back of the lorry.
Eventually we must have had more than twenty hitch hikers in the back, all on their way from the busy metropolis to the sunny south coast. The rear compartment of this lorry, being a fridge lorry, was airtight and it was also pitch black.
As we approached the M20 services we became aware of many banging noises coming from behind us in the back of the lorry. These noises increased and became more frenzied as we realised it must have been our passengers banging away in the back.
So we pulled into the services car park and opened the back of the lorry whereupon all our passengers tumbled out in a rush, most of them gasping for breath. Not only did the darkness and the enclosed space induce feelings of claustrophobia but twenty people breathing oxygen in an enclosed space did not make for comfort.
A couple of the male hitchhikers looked like they were going to thump us but they didn’t and needless to say every single one of our passengers declined our offer to complete their journey. Oh well, we had good intentions.
Another time Roy picked me up from me Mum & Dads place gone midnight and we started driving to Southampton to make a delivery to an ocean going vessel. That night a thick fog swirled around the highway and the going was slow. We had the radio on and the news announcement told us a prisoner had escaped from a nearby prison and for drivers not to stop for anybody requesting a lift.
The escaped prisoner was a multiple murderer and was thought to possess a knife. As we cruised along at a slow speed the thick swirling fog took on a whole new meaning of being sinister and we expected at any minute to come across some knife-wielding nutter thumbing a lift.
I thought this was a good time to tell Roy the story about the mad murderer of Bodmin Moor who had apparently dismembered his victim then leapt onto the bonnet of a passing car and swung his victims head against the windscreen. I don’t think Roy was amused.
We made it to Southampton without incident and we sat on the edge of a quay at the docks, smoking a joint, and watched the sun come up over the water. There are moments in this life we all remember well and that sunrise, for me, is one of those moments. In my head I was singing Otis’ Dock Of The Bay and whenever I hear that song now I’m transported to a sparkly Southampton dawn.
Well there we go, reminiscing, funny how these things jog the memory now I’m no longer a teenager…..
Musing on tales past a few transport related tales involving me and the Royston.
Around 1970 Roy was driving this fridge lorry about to earn a crust. The fridge lorry needed a driver with an HGV licence, Roy would only have have been 19 or 20 at the time and you needed to be 21 to drive an HGV lorry. C’est La vie, tres naughty, Roy used his Dad’s licence which meant we had to call him Jimmy if we were pulled by the old Bill.
I used to accompany him sometimes just for the craic and one morning we found ourselves heading from Swanley to Hatfield which meant driving through central London to join up with the A1.
We came to the top of a steep hill adjacent to Highgate Cemetery waiting first in the queue at a red light. Roy thought it was dead funny to rev up and let the clutch out sharply which made this ungainly lorry do a wheelie and at the top of this hill Mr Rogers was doing this a lot and having a good chuckle.
Unfortunately around the fifth time he done it mechanical stress came into play and the diff broke, all four bolts sheared off making the prop shaft drop to the ground and making the lorry immobile. Needless to say when the lights turned green the other vehicle drivers behind us weren’t too happy. This road was a narrow two lane affair and soon a traffic jam built up behind us.
In time a policeman arrived who spoke to us and determined we weren’t moving until a repair crew came out and made repairs and told us it was his job to direct traffic until that happened. He also told us when he was ordered to this task he had just finished his night shift and had to stay with the broken down lorry until it was repaired. Needless to say this did not fill him with glee and we sensed a somewhat hostile feeling radiating from him towards us.
We walked down the hill to the Archway roundabout and took breakfast in a cafe. Not having anything to do except wait for Mr Mechanic to arrive and make good the fridge lorry, at opening time we went into the Archway Tavern and ordered a couple of pints of bitter. This is the pub where the Kinks had the picture taken for the front cover of their LP ‘Muswell Hillbillies’.
We kept checking if the lorry was ready to be driven but the repairs took time and at 4pm we finally left the pub having consumed several more pints of bitter and beat the locals at Pool. We were p****d as Parrots.
That poor policeman finally got to go home 8 hours after his shift had finished and we climbed into the cab of the lorry and somehow made it home. On reflection perhaps we should have gone walkabout locally, perhaps visited Highgate Cemetary but we were young and the pub seemed like the only option. Very naughty I know but that’s what happened.
In the same vehicle, I think it was August bank Holiday, we set off to Margate for the day and were chugging merrily along the A20/M20 when we noticed there were lots of hitch hikers along the route. Roy decided to stop for them and let them into the back of the lorry.
Eventually we must have had more than twenty hitch hikers in the back, all on their way from the busy metropolis to the sunny south coast. The rear compartment of this lorry, being a fridge lorry, was airtight and it was also pitch black.
As we approached the M20 services we became aware of many banging noises coming from behind us in the back of the lorry. These noises increased and became more frenzied as we realised it must have been our passengers banging away in the back.
So we pulled into the services car park and opened the back of the lorry whereupon all our passengers tumbled out in a rush, most of them gasping for breath. Not only did the darkness and the enclosed space induce feelings of claustrophobia but twenty people breathing oxygen in an enclosed space did not make for comfort.
A couple of the male hitchhikers looked like they were going to thump us but they didn’t and needless to say every single one of our passengers declined our offer to complete their journey. Oh well, we had good intentions.
Another time Roy picked me up from me Mum & Dads place gone midnight and we started driving to Southampton to make a delivery to an ocean going vessel. That night a thick fog swirled around the highway and the going was slow. We had the radio on and the news announcement told us a prisoner had escaped from a nearby prison and for drivers not to stop for anybody requesting a lift.
The escaped prisoner was a multiple murderer and was thought to possess a knife. As we cruised along at a slow speed the thick swirling fog took on a whole new meaning of being sinister and we expected at any minute to come across some knife-wielding nutter thumbing a lift.
I thought this was a good time to tell Roy the story about the mad murderer of Bodmin Moor who had apparently dismembered his victim then leapt onto the bonnet of a passing car and swung his victims head against the windscreen. I don’t think Roy was amused.
We made it to Southampton without incident and we sat on the edge of a quay at the docks, smoking a joint, and watched the sun come up over the water. There are moments in this life we all remember well and that sunrise, for me, is one of those moments. In my head I was singing Otis’ Dock Of The Bay and whenever I hear that song now I’m transported to a sparkly Southampton dawn.
Well there we go, reminiscing, funny how these things jog the memory now I’m no longer a teenager…..
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Ian always enjoys stocking up on biscuits and Daim bars when we're there too. Oh and we occasionally buy things for the house 
