We’ve all heard of the London “pea-soupers” (okay, all of us of a certain age have, but who’s going to admit it, first?) well, one day, when I was walking back home from school, down came a real “pea-souper” like nothing I’d experienced before. I have no idea whether it was day or night, or what the time of year was, or any memory of what I did that day – nothing do I remember other than that fog and the fact I was walking home..
Trying to remember when this happened is very difficult but bearing in mind that my family, luckily taking me with them, left Feltham and moved to Shropshire in mid-1948, I would have guessed that it must have been, sometime, around 1947 – perhaps, even, during the very bad winter of that year.
I do remember turning off the High Street into, what we knew, then as “MiniMax Alley”, which, I understand, to-day is called, “Manor Lane”. I, also, remember hesitating when I saw this wall of greyness directly in front of me and nothing else - no land marks of any description.
I had to get home and I knew where I was so there was nothing for it but to go ahead and start walking.
The fog closed all around me as I took the next few steps up the alley and, within seconds I couldn’t see anything, whichever way I turned my head and looked, even behind me, but this total greyness. People, often, talk about not being able to see a hand in front of their face and that is, exactly, what this was like. You expect to see in a fog or thin mist, vague objects that fet a little bit clearer as you get closer to them but this was so different. The only way I can think to describe it is that the fog came right up to your eyeballs and any amount of straining to see was useless - having said that, I had walked far enough to just make out a glimmer of light up ahead, which I knew must be the first street lamp.
“MiniMax Alley” was a wide, tarmaced road, not a narrow passageway, but wide enough for cars, though I seem to remember that there were posts cemented into the ground at the “Guildford Avenue” end, to stop vehicles other than bicycles and motor-bikes from getting into the alley. The entrance from the High Street, on the other hand, was clear of any such obstruction, to allow, I believe, access to the “MiniMax” offices”.
To provide street lighting at night, all the way down the alley, on alternate sides, there lampposts had been installed, which I think were gas lamps, but, after all these years, I could be wrong. These lamps appeared all to be lit, but, in the present conditions gave such a poor light that they were nothing better than dim beacons.
I stood under the first lamppost I came to, which, I knew, was on the right-hand side of the alley, close to the a wall, and wondered what to do next, because, every time I tried to walk on, as I left the safety of the lamppost behind, the grey wall of fog in front didn’t seem to get any thinner but certainly thickened behind me, cutting off the view of my safe “beacon”, and producing that dreadful feeling of claustrophobia.
I tried, several times, to move forward but it was hopeless as the thick fog hid everything from view and nothing gave me any clue as to the direction I should take with my next step. So, each time I left the lamppost, after just a few paces, I had to turn around and go back to the, now, very dim light I had just left.
There were no other people about and no vehicles of any description that I could hear, so, calling for help was no use. I don’t remember panicking though I had a perfectly good reason for doing so! Instead, I thought for a while and, then, had an idea. I remembered that the lampposts were spaced, eqyually, on alternate sides of the road.
So, this time, I stood with my back to the lamppost but, instead of walking forward, I turned, at an angle, to face across the road, in the, rough, direction of where I knew there must be the other lamppost. I was very pleased, I must admit, when my theory held up – as I walked forward, the light behind me slowly dimmed but, just before it disappeared, I saw a glimmer in front and, then, as I advanced further, it strengthened until I was standing under the second lamppost and feeling rather clever about the whole thing – rather smug, really, but, then, I was a child and permitted to have such feelings!
I did this criss-crossing of the road, from one lamp to another, several times, each time getting more confident, until I, finally, came out of the “MiniMax Alley” and entered “Guildford Avenue”. Luckily for me, as I said before, the lampposts had all been positioned, roughly, the same distance apart and all had been working – I don’t know how I would have felt in that had not been the case!
That’s the point at which my memory switches off, for I have no idea how bad the fog was in “Guildford Avenue”, or, even, if there was any fog there, which logic says there must have been.
I got home, obviously, but I don’t remember doing so. All I do remember is the fog, the criss-crossing of “Minimax Alley”, the claustrophobic feeling, and those wonderful street lamps!
It’s very strange how a memory can, for no known reason, start, suddenly, from one, virtually, insignificant point in the past and cease at another a few minutes later. I have many such memories where, as in this case, there is a fairly clear mental picture of something happening, some small event of no great importance, but there is no recollection, not the slightest inkling or clue, as to what ever happened in the split second before the event or the split second after – it’s like a very short video, or a series of snapshots, of my life - it’s completely strange and unknowable. This was one, just, of those events. For which I should, really, have got a medal but I didn’t – or, perhaps, I did and have forgotten!
