Talking of tramps reminds me of an encounter with a particularly ragged one. When the folks moved to Stone they decided to drag the old cardboard caravan, scene of many a crime out from the site it had lodged in for twenty five years. Protesting strongly it followed Dad’s car up the road where we eventually hid it behind some trees at the bottom of the parent’s garden.

For years it became the overflow dormitory for young cadets at open meetings. Mom and Dad would keep an eye on them, give them breakfast and let them use the bathroom in the house. Yet another generation of kids having fun in our old van all through my parent’s kindness. Much later Dad’s homemade wine stock was moved into the van which allowed Dads pals to wine taste and fall over in peace. One Halloween two teenage girls who had often enjoyed the vans hospitality asked Mum and Dad if they could use the van as they were going to a Halloween party at the sailing club, ‘of course’ they chorused‘, Guy will light the gas lamp for you and pull out the beds’.

Buster arriving home later was told about the girls and decided to try a little haunting. Pulling a sheet over his head he crept down the garden, saw the flickering gas lamp was still on, wrenched the door open and shouted ‘woooooooo’ whilst waving his arms about. Fortunately the girls had found alternative not so spartan accommodation elsewhere but a passing tramp attracted by the light thought he had found heaven and was half way through his second bottle of Dads wine. Jumping up the bearded raggedly dressed tramp shouting help bolted out of the door jumped a ditch and disappeared across the field. Not that Buster saw any of this he had fled back up the garden in a blue funk backto the arms of his mummy!