Moggie Moo
Dedicated Member
"Raymond lets walk down to Apperley bridge fare stage and save a penny, then we can get some sweets to take with us or spend it in the sweet shop near Yeadon dam."
This was always the plan and it ensured we had enough money to hire a rowing boat.These little outings were usually on a Sunday Afternoon after rushing down our dinner. We would catch the West Yorkshire bus up to the Peacock and then walk on to the dam passed the big mill that is now Murgatroydes Fish Shop. If it was a very hot sunny day there wasn't much chance of getting a rowing boat as the queue's would be too long. This would allow us to get up to mischief around the dam, climbing on the buildings and sheds, or making a den in the bushes on the outskirting gardens or just finding a beach area to paddle and generally mess about in the water. There was the park section which was well supplied with equipment to thrill any unaccompanied child intent on injuring themselves by spinning off the round about or falling off an abused swing. But if we were lucky and there was no large queue we could pay our shilling and wait for the next rowing boat to come in. I only ever once went in one of the motor boats with a friend as the hire charge was too much for my little pockets but I remember it was a great experience having the commanding power over the rowing boats.These little boats were a great asset for the Mexican Admiral's gun boat diplomacy when trying to bring in the defaulters who ran over their hire time. They were not speed boats but they chugged along at a couple of knots. The smell of the two stroke petrol engine still lingers in my nose to remind me when a lawn mower or hedge trimmer revs up when the council is about cutting grass or the Yantze Incident is on T.V.
We gave our shilling to the Mexican Admiral and his strict instruction as always that we had only an hour, and don't scrape the CAPITALS of the side of the boat and to come back in when he called us." yes mister we will" uttered innocently as we clattered into the boat respectfully, after all he was a Mexican Admiral and had the braided cap to prove it. I never twigged by what he ment by Capitals, until I looked at the boat names and saw they had all been repainted in CAPITALS. I couldn't see anything wrong with Sweet Fanny Adams, or Saucey Sally the truly british traditional boat names but why replace them with CONTINENTAL BELLE and THE FREE FRONTIER. I'd always had a fear of Capitals because I never knew where to use them so I decided I would use them sparingly in places without gothic undertones or on the insistance of the Capitol Police when in London. Unless we were flushed with spending money there would be at least two of us in a boat and as we shoved off from the dock we instantly turned into the pirates of ragged trousers and rowed as fast as we could to the far side of the dam or other wise known as the Spanish Main. Each skipper would be a Blackbeard or Billy Bud on the look out for Spanish Gold. As in the Swallows and Amazons we had to take an harbour the favourite being on the blindside of the island in the middle of the dam where you could tie up the boat and get on to island. This depended on the crews rowing ability or how fast the queue went down at the boat house as to who got there first. Once on the island we waited and watched for the approaching enemy craft, then embarked and made our attack. We would broadside each other with swashes of water from the oars or if we had enough crew, scoops of water as much as possible at their boat and crew. A swashbuckling foray would finish with the first to retreat heading for their harbour or giving up the island. At this point everyone would be soaking wet and each boat would lay low for awhile. It had been known that some bailing out had to be done on occassions. As the hour turned to two getting on three the privateers would be getting cold, their vessels would be awash and bearing down from windward the Admirals assistant in a gun boat shouting curst words of what calamities would befall us if we didn't get these blasted boats back in. Hard to port we came about and set course for the boatmans dock or nearest shore line where some would leg it. Disembarking at the dock was met with a telling off and told not to hurry back, with jeers of "capital old son, capital". For those of us who still had money left, a bag of chips from the fish shop at the cross roads, a bit of a treat this being one of the few Chippies to open on a Sunday. I often wonder if these excursions to Yeadon Tarn were for the purpose of planting the seeds for nautical interests in my later life. I know Raymond just wanted to trim sails but his knees gave out and the Mexican Admiral was promoted to Admiral of the Fleet at L.M.D.C. Recreation and Boats, Blue Flag division.
This was always the plan and it ensured we had enough money to hire a rowing boat.These little outings were usually on a Sunday Afternoon after rushing down our dinner. We would catch the West Yorkshire bus up to the Peacock and then walk on to the dam passed the big mill that is now Murgatroydes Fish Shop. If it was a very hot sunny day there wasn't much chance of getting a rowing boat as the queue's would be too long. This would allow us to get up to mischief around the dam, climbing on the buildings and sheds, or making a den in the bushes on the outskirting gardens or just finding a beach area to paddle and generally mess about in the water. There was the park section which was well supplied with equipment to thrill any unaccompanied child intent on injuring themselves by spinning off the round about or falling off an abused swing. But if we were lucky and there was no large queue we could pay our shilling and wait for the next rowing boat to come in. I only ever once went in one of the motor boats with a friend as the hire charge was too much for my little pockets but I remember it was a great experience having the commanding power over the rowing boats.These little boats were a great asset for the Mexican Admiral's gun boat diplomacy when trying to bring in the defaulters who ran over their hire time. They were not speed boats but they chugged along at a couple of knots. The smell of the two stroke petrol engine still lingers in my nose to remind me when a lawn mower or hedge trimmer revs up when the council is about cutting grass or the Yantze Incident is on T.V.
We gave our shilling to the Mexican Admiral and his strict instruction as always that we had only an hour, and don't scrape the CAPITALS of the side of the boat and to come back in when he called us." yes mister we will" uttered innocently as we clattered into the boat respectfully, after all he was a Mexican Admiral and had the braided cap to prove it. I never twigged by what he ment by Capitals, until I looked at the boat names and saw they had all been repainted in CAPITALS. I couldn't see anything wrong with Sweet Fanny Adams, or Saucey Sally the truly british traditional boat names but why replace them with CONTINENTAL BELLE and THE FREE FRONTIER. I'd always had a fear of Capitals because I never knew where to use them so I decided I would use them sparingly in places without gothic undertones or on the insistance of the Capitol Police when in London. Unless we were flushed with spending money there would be at least two of us in a boat and as we shoved off from the dock we instantly turned into the pirates of ragged trousers and rowed as fast as we could to the far side of the dam or other wise known as the Spanish Main. Each skipper would be a Blackbeard or Billy Bud on the look out for Spanish Gold. As in the Swallows and Amazons we had to take an harbour the favourite being on the blindside of the island in the middle of the dam where you could tie up the boat and get on to island. This depended on the crews rowing ability or how fast the queue went down at the boat house as to who got there first. Once on the island we waited and watched for the approaching enemy craft, then embarked and made our attack. We would broadside each other with swashes of water from the oars or if we had enough crew, scoops of water as much as possible at their boat and crew. A swashbuckling foray would finish with the first to retreat heading for their harbour or giving up the island. At this point everyone would be soaking wet and each boat would lay low for awhile. It had been known that some bailing out had to be done on occassions. As the hour turned to two getting on three the privateers would be getting cold, their vessels would be awash and bearing down from windward the Admirals assistant in a gun boat shouting curst words of what calamities would befall us if we didn't get these blasted boats back in. Hard to port we came about and set course for the boatmans dock or nearest shore line where some would leg it. Disembarking at the dock was met with a telling off and told not to hurry back, with jeers of "capital old son, capital". For those of us who still had money left, a bag of chips from the fish shop at the cross roads, a bit of a treat this being one of the few Chippies to open on a Sunday. I often wonder if these excursions to Yeadon Tarn were for the purpose of planting the seeds for nautical interests in my later life. I know Raymond just wanted to trim sails but his knees gave out and the Mexican Admiral was promoted to Admiral of the Fleet at L.M.D.C. Recreation and Boats, Blue Flag division.
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