As a lad I liked to ride on the bus from Goole to Hook, the bus was driven by an old chap and the fare was a penny. I think the bus was an old petrol Bedford. Was Wessex the name of a place where us kids played by the river at Hook. As a kid I always hated the afternoon walk along the river bank to Hook dressed in my Sunday best. Some Sundays were good when we were invited to tea at my cousins farm in Swinefleet. It was called Crow Tree Farm where my cousin Irene was the farmers wife, the farmer was called George Cowling and I think he was a good cricketer.

You have a good memory for your childhood, Alan. Wessex, or Westfield Banks as it is, shortened in all kinds of forms by locals, was a favourite place for old-style adventures. I am not surprised to know you went there too. As you say, being dressed in Sunday best and having to do the less rowdy things on the 7th day were part of my own upbringing. We visited relatives, like you, and walked the local paths and short cut, across the railway in our case and down Mad Dog Lane to Riversdale Drive. We did not get to Swinefleet though but another contributor with memories of living in RC Street had family links with another farmer Cowling. Harold and Sally Cowling at White House Farm. This guy b. 1934 at RC Street, across the road from where you were staying, was evacuated to Swinefleet from Hull, where his parents had opened a business pre-war and then his father was mobilised. Eventually, they returned to Goole and lived in RC Street until their deaths at a good age.

DOING DASTIES AT WEZZAKS Only a true Goolite would under stand the meaning of the title. In no way to be confused with Thomas Hardy’s Wessex. Wezzaks or West Field Banks was a well known haunt for the children of Goole. A bend in the river had caused an island to be formed and over the years willow trees had taken a strong hold, some quite large A place where I spent many an hour doing dasties or dares. I remember a favourite one was to see how far one could travel through the willow trees without touching the ground. Pretty tame compared with modern day children’s technique off trying to travel a whole street via car roofs without touching the ground. The friends I remember Alan Bedford, Alan Fielder, and I used to dig up potatoes on the way there. Build a fire and roast the potatoes until they resembled black cannonballs, delicious. There were dangers. To go in the river was only possible at slack water. (when the tide was on the turn) The current was too strong. Caused by the tributaries feeding the Ouse. I remember there was a boy, Kenny was his su rname who dived into the river and his head got stuck in the mud. Sadly he drowned.