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of the barrow. Up went the shafts taking my dad with them some 5 foot off the ground. With his legs dangling and kicking, away went the chariot off down the hill utterly out of control and in danger of crashing into the railings and impaling the old man upon the spikes!'

" It was in this same area where in 1925/6 onwards I remember that on Bonfire Nights we would have a huge Bonfire Party. All the neighbours would gather - all providing a few fireworks, and a little further up would be all the neighbours from Newmarket Road holding another Bonfire - each competing with each other for the best display! This lane, known then as `The Turning', was the beginning of a long country walk for us children. It led us way up past the allotments to the edge of the golf course and onto the Ditchling Road which was then no more than a lane leading to a path to High Park Farm where we picked wild raspberries and on to Ditchling Beacon. On the way we would meet an old boy that lived with his dog on one of the allotments near the golf course. The Council probably told him to get off but he didn't move.

During the 2nd world war there were allotments on all spaces of spare ground. `Dig for Victory!' was the slogan, and my husband took one over after the war in Ditchling Road by Hollingbury Copse. At the bottom of Roedale Road a Pig Club was formed by a group of people who reared a few pigs which were fed mostly on waste food and each had a share when a pig was killed.

In those days the children played together in the street, such games as hop scotch, marbles, tops and whips, ball games, statues, Sally-sits-a-weeping, Farmers-in-the-Den, and skipping games, all of which were seasonal. On Good Friday a long thick rope was stretched across the road and turned by two mums, everyone would join in the skipping, older brothers and sisters, mums and sometimes even the dads. Mrs Wickham who owned the cafe and florists in Hollingdean Road would make toffee apples and sell them at ½ old pence and 1 old pence each.

I remember the railway line from Kemp Town passing along the side of Hollingdean Road up a bank opposite our house. Here the children on their annual Sunday school treats would travel on to Hassocks Pleasure Ground, all the kids waving to their mums down in the Hollingdean Road as they went off for a day in the country!

In my childhood their were several young children in most working class families and a roast dinner on a Sunday was the main meal of the week. Some people took their joint of meat and potatoes to the local bakers to be roasted in the bread ovens. One young lad near to us was sent to collect the dinner at lunch time, when there happened to be pipe laying in the road. On the way home he could not resist walking along on the pipe balancing the dish of roast beef above his head - alas he slipped and away went the dinner into the road. In fear he went up the road crying,


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