The Paper Boy *

Not all paper boys deliver the news in the morning.

My job was to set out after school on a trade bike to the Marine station to collect the evening papers from the Golden Arrow, bring them back to the office for the local stop press to be inserted and then deliver several quire, each to the four corner street vendors before setting off to River and Kearsney to deliver the news.

This wasn’t a job you found advertised, it was handed down to you from your eldest brother.

In my case it was Brian Miller, who being the youngest of a big family, handed down to his best friend who happened to be me. Thank you very much Brian, the work ethic I acquired then, has stood me in good stead all my life.

I also inherited the perks too……if you sold any papers to the general public the money went to the paper boy benevolent fund, in other words straight in your pocket, and I can tell you there was always enough perks to purchase a few sweets at the local shop at the end of the day, I never understood how it all worked but I kept up the tradition, and I passed it on to Graham Totterdale in the spring of 1960.

I did that job for two years come rain or shine.

The journey took me past Charlton School, through the passageway alongside Buckland paper mill. Where there stood a 1000 year old Yew Tree in Buckland cemetery that I didn’t actually discover until I was much older. Onward under the tunnel at Crabble sports ground and along the side the River Dour, at Crabble Mill ,which in those days had a good stock of rainbow trout, and I must admit a couple of them found their way into my paper bag.

I used an unobtrusive hand line with a size ten hook, baited with a piece of bread and dangled over the bridge between the barbed wire. This was an act of poaching, so dexterity was essential, whilst checking the river for the fish and the road for PC Crush, who could very quietly appear out of nowhere on his silenced motor cycle, and without doubt would carry out the law.

My journey continued out to Minnis Lane to twelve customers including the three pubs. The Cricketers, The Royal Oak and the Dublin Man of War. I mention the pubs because invariably I used to get a complimentary soft drink at all three.

On my way home my last port of call was my cousin Billy Smith, a diamond of a man who I admired deeply. I always got a cup of tea and bite to eat at Billy and Sheila’s and I’m sure I overstayed my welcome, but being the nice people that they were, no one ever mentioned it.

I guess the whole journey was probably a round trip of five or six miles, it kept me very fit and gave me a good pair of legs for the long walk of life.