Tag Archives: Alec Cokes

Alec Cokes: Ommaney Road, Boat Building 1970s

Boat Building in Ommanney Road

When I worked for Cecil Doe we built some boats in what had been Bob May’s undertaker’s place there as well.  Amongst them was the harbour launch that was down the harbour for years, the big one.
All his bits and pieces from being an undertaker he put up the end of the shed on a load of shelves and he had some black curtains that covered them all up.  We were happily building boats in there.  Bob used to come in every day and say: ‘How are you getting on nipper?’

Robert May, carpenter and undertaker outside his workshop

Robert May, carpenter and undertaker outside his workshop

We said: ‘Oh, we’re just doing so and so Mr May.’  And he’d say ‘ Ooh, look at that.’  Anyway, we built this one boat, it was what was called strip planning. It was built upside down and just sort of nailed together, and then we turned it the right way up.  We did that one night because we had to cut braces that held the roof up so we had enough room to swing this thing round – put them all back in afterwards.
He came in the next day and he said: ‘ Where’s she gone?’ And we said, ‘Well this is her, she’s the other way up.’  ‘Well,’ he said,’ so she is.’
Once you’d done all this, you’ve got to clean the outside of the boat up. I sharpened up a load of planes and started work. I was down there underneath this boat and trying to reach up . When you’re laying on the floor trying to reach up, you need something to push under your head.  I thought, I know, there’s those little stools that Bob used to put under the heads in the coffins, – perfect –  they went from about two inches high to four inches high.  I went along and opened the curtains and there they were – ah, just right.  So I’m under there working away, and I hear the door open and in he came.
‘ Alec, are you there?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m underneath, Mr May, I’m just scarfing her off.’
That moustache came gradually down over this boat and he made this noise, and I thought he was having a heart attack.  I said ‘Are you alright Mr May?’
I got out from underneath, and he was by this time, down on one knee, and – I don’t know how old he was – it was quite an event for him to get down that far, and he said to me, ‘Do you know what you got your head on, Alec?’
I said, ‘Yes, it’s one of your little coffin stools, Mr May.’    And he said, ‘Well as long as you know.’ Alec Cokes b 1945

Billy Doe: Harbour Master 1950s

Billy Doe, Harbour Master

Billy Doe in launch in harbour

Billy Doe rowing launch in harbour: photo, Janet Hopkins

 

The big effort was when they used to go across to Lymington, seagull egging.  When there was a marsh over there, there used to be trillions of the things, black headed gulls, and they used to sell them as plovers’ eggs – that’s what they called them.    The Harbour Master when I was small, was Billy Doe.  When he retired the Harbour Commissioners gave him a launch, about eighteen foot.
The Commissioners gave that to Billy so he didn’t have to row across to go egging, because he used to go across egging as well.  The launch had a little Lister diesel.
The season of the year to collect seagulls eggs was about April on.
I can remember going across with grandfather. All the marsh was separated by little streams and the old fellows all had their own little bit; they used to bang a stake in with their name on. They all had some agreement with all the old fellows from around there and the first thing they did – the first day you went over – was to break all the eggs.
You broke all the eggs you could see, and went back a couple of days later and they’d pretty much be fresh. Alec Cokes b 1945

Harbour: Jim Cooper 1920s – 1960s

Coming in to wooden stage at Sandhard to avoid toll

Jim Cooper coming in to wooden stage at Sandhard to avoid toll

It was a basic dinghy shape.  They called it a ‘lanch’ the old boys, so that differentiated it from a rowing boat.  It was bigger and it had a net board in the back.  In the transom, six inches below, there was a net board about two foot wide which we used to lay the net on when we were shooting nets out the back of the transom.  It was a very wide boat and the oars he used were about ten foot long, huge big ash oars, they weighed a ton, I couldn’t lift them.

In those days he made a little bit of a living on pout which these days is much maligned.  ‘Sweet little pout’; my mum still says now, ‘Why can’t you get me a sweet little pout?’
It’s like a mini cod, the same flesh, same family.  He used to catch those.

When we used to go out we used to row down to Fort Vic., go out in the tide. You remember those old iron wheelbarrow wheels with a spike in the middle? He used to have one of those, that was his anchor and a big bit of grass rope and he used to chuck that over and he used to have the oars ready. They’d get to where they wanted to go and drift back, and let a bit more rope out;  so they stopped and then they fished, and all they used was line, about three or four hooks on the bottom and garden worms.  They’d catch a few pout and then they’d run out, or they hadn’t caught one, then they’d trip the killock [small anchor]. Pull the anchor up a little bit, let it go, give it a shear with the oar now and again, and drift in the right direction to another bit of ground.  And they’d do that all the way to Bouldnor. There was about three or four places where they stopped.  And of course by the time you got to Bouldnor inshore, the ebb was down again, so you had the tide back the other way.  Alec Cokes b 1945

Harbour: Jim Cooper 1920s -1960s

Coming in to wooden stage at Sandhard to avoid toll

Jim Cooper coming in to wooden stage at Sandhard to avoid toll

I used to spend a lot of time with my grandad, Jim Cooper, and he used to have these old rowing boats he used to row about fishing and things.  He’d always done that.  You’ve got to remember he was born in 1883. This was in the sixties and he was nearly ninety when he died. He used to go out, never very far, only to Bouldnor or down to Fort Vic. and somewhere in between.  He went up the river a bit.  Sid Kelleway was always up the river and they used to have their little territories.  Grandad had two boats, one about eighteen foot long he used to stand up and row, and a small one he would stand up and row as well, pushing forward rather than pulling back on the oars, one foot slightly forward of the other one. If you stand with your feet parallel you go forward then you’ve had it, so he always had one foot slightly ahead of the other.  You don’t see anyone do it now, but you could do, if you had the right boat and the right oars.  Alec Cokes b 1945

Services: Laundry 1930s ,1940s, 1950s

At the end of Heytesbury Road was the Solent Steam Laundry. A very loud whistle was sounded there to mark the start and end of work shifts at 8.00, 12 noon, 1.00pm and 4.30  Eileen Smith nee Lansdowne b 1921

There were forty or fifty people who worked there, they were big employers. Alec
Cokes b 1945

My Mum used to send her sheets to the Laundry when she was first married. She didn’t have a washing machine. Ruth Mills nee Kelleway b 1945

My Grandad worked up the Laundry, and wanted me to go and work there but I didn’t fancy it. Brian Pomroy b 1937

Trains: sugar beet 1950s

Train in station 1950s

Train in station 1950s

We used to watch the trains shunt down the station and we used to watch them load up the sugarbeet from Thorley Manor when Caulcutts had it. Brian Pomroy b 1937
Prisoners of war used to get down the station, loading up the Sugar Beet Train. Nick Chandler b1937
There was little tiny place – you couldn’t call it a siding – where they used to shunt the old truck. That used to get loaded up with sugar beet up there.  When the train came back from Freshwater somebody used to get out there and push the truck on the railway line, and the train would push it through to Yarmouth, and then about four of them would push it up on the railways siding to join all the others. All that trouble for sugar beet.   Alec Cokes 1945.

Train in Yarmouth Station 1950s

Train in Yarmouth Station 1950s Photo Nick Chandler

Brian Pomroy, Alec Cokes: Shops, Mills, 1940s

Mills yard where slaughterhouse and bakehouse were located

Mills yard where slaughterhouse and bakehouse were located Photo. M. Scott

Sid Kelleway had his slaughterhouse up the back of Mills.   I went once to watch him cut the pigs’ throats but it was a bit too much. He kept chickens in his garden there too. One day one of his chickens had flown over the wall. He was chasing it up the High Street and when he caught it, he said ‘That bloody thing wont go nowhere’, and got it and wrung its neck. 
Brian Pomroy b 1937

Sid was a real old rascal.  My granddad and him were old contemporaries. Grandad used to be out with his poaching a bit, so he used to take stuff in and of course Sid used to filter them into the main stream.  Sid used to say, there you are Jim.
When he was preparing pigeons for people he used to take one breast out.  Of course selling them to the visitors, I don’t suppose they knew anyway. They had one breast and wrapped it up that way round.  Alec Cokes b 1945

John Caulcutt: Harbour, Delphie and Robin Lakeman

Delphie ran the garage and subsequently took over the pumps on the quay; that place was pretty well open twenty four hours a day.  People would come to Yarmouth to buy fuel because of Delphie. Her whole wall was a mass of postcards from people like the Hiscock family [who endowed the present-day lifeboat] who would send from every port that they were in because they were enamoured with Delphi like we all were, because she was such a magnetic character. Humble origins, humble in her lifestyle and everything she did, but a really good down to earth solid, gutsy, go-getting person.

She was such an encourager of everything. You had some weird project and she’d absolutely get right behind it. She used to wait up for us when we came across from Lymington on a Friday night.  We all had our own mugs. Robin would have been out fishing in that old naval pinnace – he had crab pots, lobster pots, and prawn pots just round from Fort Albert going into Colwell Bay. There were always tons of prawns in the fridge, so we’d have a pile of prawns when we got back.

Fishing boat 'Kit' moored by fuel station 1970s

Fishing boat ‘Kit’ moored by the Lakemans fuel station 1970s Photo: A. Cokes

And Robin, you could hardly get two words out of him, but a finer mechanic I don’t think any of us will ever see.  Sea going and apprentice to start with; all his life he’d been with engines, just incredible. We used to go out fishing with him and he was a canny fisherman, particularly for shellfish.  He knew just where and when they’d be feeding and when those pots would be full.  An amazing guy.  So great to have the opportunity when you’re kids to grow up with this enormous local knowledge that the Lakemans were able to pass on.

She was the most amazingly generous person, not only with her time but with her energy and her money and that manifested itself in the end, in the Abbeyfield.
The Delphie Lakeman Trust has given away over two hundred thousand pounds to a hundred and forty different causes all in her name, principally Yarmouth and West Wight based, to things that she would have approved of because she did like to push the envelope out.

John Caulcutt ( who established and manages The Delphie Lakeman Memorial Trust, which has grown from an allotment in Yarmouth which Delphie left to him.)

 

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Alec Cokes: Shops, The Square, Harwoods, 1960s,

Mr. Harwood outside Harwoods in the Square 1960s

Mr. Harwood outside Harwoods in the Square 1960s

John and I, we wanted twenty fathom of rope so we went to see Mr Harwood.
In those days you went through the same door as now, and the counter was on the left as you went in and Mr. Harwood was just looking through a gap, with stuff all round him, all hung up, pots and pans and whatever.
The well, that was in the back yard.  It’s inside now so that shows you how small the shop was. So we said, ‘Mr Harwood, can we have some rope?’
He said, ‘Yes, of course you can.  What do you want that for nipper?’
We said, for an anchor rope.  So he says, there’s the coil, take it outside. The pavement is all marked in fathoms, roll out what you like, cut it off and bring the bit back in.
So we said all right.  So we unrolled this coil, and of course he’s not looking out the door or anything, so we thought …. we’ll not stretch it too tight.
We coiled it all back up again and said, ‘There we are Mr Harwood, that reached almost to the public bar in the Bugle.’
He said, ‘ Oh, did it? That’s alright then’.
He said, ‘Give it here’, and we thought he was going to measure it, but he weighed it.
Alec Cokes b 1945

Alec Cokes: Free Time 1950s

‘ Brimmo’  –  he was one of the gang leaders and his sort of base was in this builder’s yard just down the bottom of the garden.  We had our Dinky toys and all the rest of it in the yard.  There were several of those little cannons about – they were yacht race cannons really for starting races. They used to take them on their boats and fire them off. They weren’t very big, only about nine inches or a foot long. There was no gun carriage, it didn’t look like a little gun, it was just a brass pipe basically.  It wasn’t a miniature cannon but it made a bang when you fired it.  In those days everybody used to load their own shot gun cartridges, so everybody had shot and wadding, it was in every back garden shed.

 This toad hopped out of the water butt – somebody fired at it with a catapult and missed it.  The suggestion came up that we get this cannon and trig it up, and we’ll get this toad.  We went indoors, got the cannon set up on a couple of bricks with a couple of bricks holding it down, rammed it and all the rest of it, lit the touch hole and all retired round the next pile of bricks.  We were all cowering behind the bricks and  –  nothing.
Everybody said, ‘ Well, what are we going to do then?’
Dicky in the end went out round and kicked it, and it went off.  Of course, it fell off the bricks and he got one of the pellets lodged in his eye. He went home because he only lived in Ommanney Road, and didn’t tell his mum.  The next day at breakfast, she said, ‘What’s wrong with your eye, Nipper?’   And he said, ‘I’ve got something in it.’
I think it was the lead poisoning that caused him to lose his eye rather than the impact. Alec Cokes b 1945