A Very Long Day Clive Banks January 2025
Pals on a night out at Paignton. Left to Right. Roy Collet, Clive Banks, Shaun Ford and Mel Bush (courtesy Kevin Ford)
It was a Friday in May. The year was probably 1961. I would have been 19 years old. I cannot remember what I did earlier that day but, being a Friday, I had probably caught the 7am train from Box to Swindon and done a day's work there.
My friend Roy Collett had bought an old Austin A30 van. He had heard that there was a dance on at Malmesbury Town Hall that night and suggested that we go there. We drove to Malmesbury and after a couple of pints in the pub in the main street we went to the dance. We met up with a couple of girls and arranged to walk them home independently.
Roy and I agreed to meet in the market square car park around 12.30am. I arrived at the car park at the appointed time but it was almost deserted. Just a few cars remained but no sign of Roy. Just when I was beginning to get a bit concerned, Roy's van suddenly appeared in the middle of the car park facing away from me. I began to walk towards it but when I got within a few yards he started to drive away. I shouted loudly enough to wake most of Malmesbury but he drove away and vanished.
For a moment I was stunned. Luckily the night was dry but it was starting to get rather chilly. Mobile phones were far in the future then and if I had had phoned home and awakened my Dad he would probably have told me to walk anyway. I had no option but to set out on foot. Initially I had hoped that I might hitch a lift, but in those days there was not a lot of traffic going out of Malmesbury at that time of night. Those few that were did not feel inclined to stop. Eventually the traffic died out completely. It was fairly dark and it was not always easy to see my way. When there was a white line in the middle of the road I followed it.
Roy and I agreed to meet in the market square car park around 12.30am. I arrived at the car park at the appointed time but it was almost deserted. Just a few cars remained but no sign of Roy. Just when I was beginning to get a bit concerned, Roy's van suddenly appeared in the middle of the car park facing away from me. I began to walk towards it but when I got within a few yards he started to drive away. I shouted loudly enough to wake most of Malmesbury but he drove away and vanished.
For a moment I was stunned. Luckily the night was dry but it was starting to get rather chilly. Mobile phones were far in the future then and if I had had phoned home and awakened my Dad he would probably have told me to walk anyway. I had no option but to set out on foot. Initially I had hoped that I might hitch a lift, but in those days there was not a lot of traffic going out of Malmesbury at that time of night. Those few that were did not feel inclined to stop. Eventually the traffic died out completely. It was fairly dark and it was not always easy to see my way. When there was a white line in the middle of the road I followed it.
At Hullavington my hopes were raised by a Land Rover going in my direction but he did not seem to see me and I had to jump into the ditch to avoid him. I became resigned to a long walk. I passed through a deserted Chippenham. At the bottom of Chequers Hill it was beginning to get light. A postman on an early round and I wished each other good morning. Just past Rudloe Manor, I thumbed a railwayman on his way to work who gave me a welcome lift for the last mile.
It is 17 miles from Malmesbury to Box. It had taken about 4 hours. I crawled quietly into bed and slept until mid morning.
That day, Saturday, was the first day of the cricket season. The first match was the competitive local derby away at Corsham.
I was then playing for Box 2nd eleven. The home team batted first and scored an unassailable total of over 200. I cannot recall much about fielding except that the first ball whistled past my head before I could react. Our only hope was to acquire an honourable draw by batting through to 7.30 without all being bowled out.
I opened the innings at carried my bat right through to 7.30, scoring 67 not out, and saved the day. This was one of my first 50s. A few more were to follow but this one was very special for me. I had been on the field for the whole match. I think that this was one of the last times I played for the 2nds as soon after I was promoted to the 1st team. We would have had the usual celebrations in the Corsham Methuen Arms before I went the Queens Head in Box for our usual Saturday night lads' rendezvous where we would play some darts and shove ha'penny. Roy was there of course. Naturally I tackled him about the previous night but he just said you weren't there. That was the end of the matter – no recriminations – and off we all went on the bus for a drink in Bath and another dance there, probably at the Regency Ballroom. There we might be lucky enough to see Acker Bilk and his Paramount Jazz Band perform and perhaps hear Adge Cutler sing his song, Drink Up Thy Zider.
We habitually caught the last train, the 11.30pm steam engine back to Box Mill Lane Halt. For me. this was the end of a very long day. There had on occasion been a bit of trouble coming off that train so for a period we were usually met by John Bosley the local policeman. Those were magic times and that long day was a particularly memorable one for me.
It probably was on a different occasion, but one day we were running a bit late and rushing up to the station platform, we jumped onto the waiting train just as it was about to leave. Things did not seem quite familiar and when I heard someone talking about Bradford-on-Avon I realised that we were on the wrong train. The guard told us that our train was behind. We got off at Bathampton. Our train did not normally stop there but someone recalled that Alec Smith, our cricket umpire, was a signalman there and that he might be on shift. We rushed up to the signal box and to our luck he was there. He readily agreed to stop our train and proceeded to pull several heavy levers. The train stopped to the surprise of the regulars on board and we gratefully piled on.
It is 17 miles from Malmesbury to Box. It had taken about 4 hours. I crawled quietly into bed and slept until mid morning.
That day, Saturday, was the first day of the cricket season. The first match was the competitive local derby away at Corsham.
I was then playing for Box 2nd eleven. The home team batted first and scored an unassailable total of over 200. I cannot recall much about fielding except that the first ball whistled past my head before I could react. Our only hope was to acquire an honourable draw by batting through to 7.30 without all being bowled out.
I opened the innings at carried my bat right through to 7.30, scoring 67 not out, and saved the day. This was one of my first 50s. A few more were to follow but this one was very special for me. I had been on the field for the whole match. I think that this was one of the last times I played for the 2nds as soon after I was promoted to the 1st team. We would have had the usual celebrations in the Corsham Methuen Arms before I went the Queens Head in Box for our usual Saturday night lads' rendezvous where we would play some darts and shove ha'penny. Roy was there of course. Naturally I tackled him about the previous night but he just said you weren't there. That was the end of the matter – no recriminations – and off we all went on the bus for a drink in Bath and another dance there, probably at the Regency Ballroom. There we might be lucky enough to see Acker Bilk and his Paramount Jazz Band perform and perhaps hear Adge Cutler sing his song, Drink Up Thy Zider.
We habitually caught the last train, the 11.30pm steam engine back to Box Mill Lane Halt. For me. this was the end of a very long day. There had on occasion been a bit of trouble coming off that train so for a period we were usually met by John Bosley the local policeman. Those were magic times and that long day was a particularly memorable one for me.
It probably was on a different occasion, but one day we were running a bit late and rushing up to the station platform, we jumped onto the waiting train just as it was about to leave. Things did not seem quite familiar and when I heard someone talking about Bradford-on-Avon I realised that we were on the wrong train. The guard told us that our train was behind. We got off at Bathampton. Our train did not normally stop there but someone recalled that Alec Smith, our cricket umpire, was a signalman there and that he might be on shift. We rushed up to the signal box and to our luck he was there. He readily agreed to stop our train and proceeded to pull several heavy levers. The train stopped to the surprise of the regulars on board and we gratefully piled on.