Memories of growing up in Watford (From Watford Observer)

Memories of growing up in Watford

10:28am Friday 22nd January 2010 in

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Former Watford resident John Lear has written a poem about his memories of his home town, after moving away to Lincolnshire.

Mr Lear wrote: “I was born in Watford, as were my four brothers and four sisters. Today, six of us remain and are spread around the world.

“Probably my fault because I was a traveller (military RAF) and they have copied my activities. My two sisters are in New Zealand and my brother is in Arizona in the USA.

“When I retired after 35 years in the oil industry, mostly on the road as company representative, my wife and I decided to find a quiet part of the world to settle and chose Lincoln.

“I'm afraid for me it hasn't worked and I miss Watford and all that I knew there.

“I still see Watford in the 'Black and White' days, not the technicolour of today. There were seven cinemas and I worked at the Carlton in Clarendon Road when I was 16 years old.

“Next I worked at Watford Junction as van boy delivering boxes of fresh fish every day to shops all around Watford and Croxley.

“Most of the shops no longer exist but I can remember them all.

“Then came the RAF and Singapore and Malaya. No more fish carts after that.

“After a couple of years I was off again to the RNZAF and spent six-and-a-half years in “Kiwi”. I could have remained there, had a good job but I had been away too long. My family wanted me back.

“I was involved in soccer when I returned. Firstly as a player for YMCA, then player manager. We won the junior challenge cup, junior benevolent cup and promotion in one season (1971-72).

“Then we went to Germany and played Mainz in the twin town celebrations (1974). I was in constant contact with the Watford Observer sports reporter Paddy Weaver.

“Anyway, my reason for writing is because I have not settled here down here. I miss Watford.

“I wrote a poem one night when I was doing a shift in a care home and it was quiet. It might warn some people about moving away.”

Mr Lear’s poem reads: “What was the name of the street again, by the shops we always used? And what did they call that pub again, after football where we boozed.

“And what was the name of the garage, where we used to buy fuel.

“And what has become of my memory, I find the loss so cruel.

“I see again the crowded house where brother and sisters grew, then memory fails and I can't recall the things we used to do.

“At night I dream and wander round those time-worn streets again, and try to find the things that were, but searchings are in vain.

“Now I live in a different town, far from the place I knew.

“All the streets are strange to me, although I've learnt a few.

“They say in time I will settle down and know that I belong.

“But then I feel the ache again and know that they are wrong.

“What was the name of the cinema, where we used to queue so long, to see a film in black and white? I could go on and on.”