I remember my carefree days in 1945, age 12.
I used to go youth hosteling alone on my bike from London to Southend on sea, where I nearly got arrested for having a bottle of sherry as emergency rations. I faked a puncture to get my tired legs a lift back on a lorry.
I remember a youth hostel in Winchester near a weir. You had to help with the cleaning before you left.
Age 14 as an army cadet in Middleton, near Manchester, two of us hiked to stay at the Union Jack Club in London, the journey back took longer; after walking as far as Watford we were more than grateful for the truck driver who stopped; but concerned as he kept falling asleep at the wheel. Perhaps a tad dangerous today.
The open road was fun and adventure.
PHILIP PEARCE-SMITh (by e-mail)
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