Blyth Railway station

Quite a few, if not all, of the staff were ex-navy folk. The Captain, Swanson was a fine bloke, and his daughter was gorgeous and a year or so below me in school.

A couple of years ago, Fiona and I went to the Greek island of Lesvos.

On the first night there, we were getting to know the folk, mostly off London and Manchester - flights.

Among the Manchester crowd was this Manchester bloke I kept looking at and wondering why. There was something about his eyes and his face - I was positive I knew him, but couldn't place him at all. After a couple of days and having had a few beers and establishing a rapport .

I told him about having this feeling I knew him from somewhere, and that I was from Blyth. He was a bit reticent and I thought I'd made a prat of myself. So I didn't persist. Later, he said,

"I don't know you at all, but as you're from Blyth I suppose I'd better come clean", I served some time at the Wellesley Nautical school there. Immediately, everything fell into place and I could see him - younger, leaner, in a sailor uniform marching up to our local church as an eight group, with an officer in front.

I'd seen him a few dozen times and I worked out it had been 32 years since the last time. We had never spoken, but I'd noticed him because the 'Wellesley boys' - a real bunch of hard cases - used to puzzle me as a 14 year-old. I used to wonder what they'd done to be sent there.

"Yes, I were a right narty boy in them days" he said, but that place sorted me out all right".

My father admired these lads for their discipline, marching about in perfect file as they did everywhere, although it wasn't exactly the Royal Navy which he had himself served in for 15 years, but he often said how "a spell in there would sort you out!", and make a man of me. "Well you'd 've learned a lot about crime lad, but it would've made you hard n'all"

"We'd start 5am outside on a January morning with some warm up exercises like a 100 press-ups, then swim 100 yds out in the North Sea, then row this fuckin' boat a few miles down the coast and back, then back for a quick game of football before breakfast. Some of them local geordie lads what used to take the piss like - well they'd be fuckin' dead...but we knew if we put a foot wrong - well it were Jankers for you lad, plus a few cuts of the cane.

I couldn't get over the fact that I'd twigged him at first sight after 32 years. We did a lot of laughing and drinking together for the rest of the week he was there.

The Wellesley at Blyth, was an nautical-approved run along military lines. I think it was named after Sir Arthur Wellesley, a Viceroy in India I think, and who's younger brother was the Duke of Wellington - hero of Waterloo. Gan Canny Chris Rockcliffe