Shelley the Lifeboat Labrador Page 4

  Celia wined and dined us well and Shelley never went short of food. I took them out for some nice meals to say thank you and before I left to drive back they told me to call any time of the day or night if I felt low or needed to chat to them. I did take this offer up several times and they became like Samaritans to me. The art of being a Samaritan is to be a good listener and not give advice but to reassure the person on the end of the phone with the problems that they can be overcome.

  End of Chapter Six

  A CHANGE OF DIRECTION CHAPTER 7

  Many people asked me how Shelley got her name. Three people stood out in my mind over the years. Shelley Manne the jazz drummer from the West Coast of America. Shelley Winters the actress who I had admired over many years and I felt was so underrated by the movie industry. Last but not least was Shelley the poet. It was also easy to pronounce and dogs always worked better when called by a shorter name.

  When I got home I had to come to terms with the fact that I had no work and more important of all I would have to return my company car. They had been good considering my circumstance and let me keep it for a few weeks.

  With my healthcare sales background I got myself linked to an agency in London and caught the train down for an interview. I am glad to say it was not too long before I was short listed for three jobs. I knew at the time that there would be no profit from the sale. I contacted a local solicitor and estate agent to set things up and whilst with the solicitor discussed the impending divorce.

  I decided as much as I would like to go back to the Suffolk Coast it would be better for me to head south. I had always liked Sussex having spent a lot of time there in my early days of medical selling. I remember being in Hove when Richard Attenborough was filming ‘Oh What a Lovely War’ and liked the surrounding areas. I met the actor Jo Melia who was one of the stars of the film at the Grand Hotel. I was with a pilot friend of mine Neville Needham and we had been watching the filming on the pier – Joe and Neville were old pals and we had been invited onto the pier as his guest. What a day - I met John Mills, Richard Attenborough and many more of the cast.

  Joe suggested we go out for a drink so Neville took us to a pub in the nearby fishing village of Southwick called ‘The Schooner’. It was great and overlooked the harbour - we had one of those evenings that I will always remember. Following that we went back to the Grand and met a lot more of the cast and production team staying up very late.

  The film came out to excellent reviews and I met Sir Richard Attenborough (as he became) again later in my life getting him to sign his autograph. He even referred to ‘Oh What a Lovely War’ written above it. At the time Richard was Chancellor of Sussex University. I was invited to a dinner where he was guest of honour. What a nice man he was talking in detail to me about making the film. With this in mind I decided to look at a possible move to Sussex once I had found a new job and sold the house.

  A short break was needed so I decided to take Shelley up to Woodhall Spa in Lincolnshire to visit my Aunt Grace. She was my late father’s sister and had always been very close to me. Grace had moved to a nice bungalow in Woodhall from Potterhanworth where for many years she was married to a farmer called Derek Young. Since childhood both had been very kind to me and I had spent many happy weeks staying with them at ‘The Manor House’ where they then lived. Derek passed away and Grace sold the manor and moved to Woodhall.

  I arrived with Shelley and she had made a room up for us both for a couple of days. It was relaxing and she was very kind to Shelley giving her a fillet steak. On the second night it rained a lot so rather than walk Shelley I let her into the back garden.

  After a while I called her in – but no reply. Having investigated the garden I found she had managed to get out of the back gate. I was concerned as there was a main road close by and a large wooded area to the back. Getting my wet weather gear on I set off calling for her – still nothing - after a hour I went down the road and into some of the woods. Walking back alongside some rather large properties a voice called out of the darkness asking if I had lost a small golden Labrador. The rain was torrential by this time – I was soaked – angry and frustrated. “I think I have your dog” he said with a laugh. “He is a little muddy – my wife heard some noise in the back garden and we found him in the pond having the time of his life.” I apologised and was greeted by a muddy dishevelled Shelley. No way could I take her back into my aunt’s bungalow so I removed some towels from the boot of my car dried her off and she spent the night in the garage.

  Next day after a typical Lincolnshire breakfast (The sausages were great and from the local butcher) I made my way to RAF Coningsby where I watched the RAF Phantoms take off meeting up with one of my pilot friends Barry Titchen before going to see my cousin Basil and his wife Anne in Boston.

  It was just what I needed a nice drive round and to see some family and a couple of close friends before I drove back home to try and sort my career out.

  Once home I got in touch with one of the well established medical agencies in London and before I knew it I had been offered a job based in Sussex near Worthing selling surgical equipment in Kent Sussex and Surrey.

  I had a call from an old friend of mine Stewart Collins whom I knew in Hythe and he was now a teacher in Nottingham. He wondered if I would like to go to the Lake District with him for a few days to do some fell walking and camp out.

  What an ideal opportunity, the weather was fine and he was great company and liked jazz as well as a pint of real ale. My only concern was that he was a lot fitter than me and was used to walking and cycling.

  I picked him up in Nottingham and we drove to a camp site near Keswick. I had not told him about bringing Shelley; however after a while he came round to the idea of sharing the small tent with us both.

  On our first day we seemed to walk for miles getting high onto the fells often above the clouds. A lot of the time Shelley was off the lead but when things became a little difficult I put her back on. She was very good and did not pull. When we got back we walked to the local pub. We had a meal whilst listening to folk music. Shelley slept by out feet all the time not even moving for a packet of crisps whilst I did not know I had so many muscles in my legs and back.

  Next day it was decided we would go across some of the lower fells and aim for a nice village Stewart knew for some lunch. We followed a shallow stream, up through a valley walking along the path beside it. I picked a stick up and threw it into the stream and Shelley ran in after it. Suddenly there was a terrible yelp and the water turned a bright red. I rushed in to find she had trodden on a broken bottle and cut her pad open. It was deep and we tried to stem the flow of blood. I was pleased in a way that we had not gone higher and that there was a village in the distance.

  We wrapped her paw in handkerchiefs and put a small plastic bag over it securing it with some string taking turns to carry her back to the village. We were lucky as there was a vet nearby. It was a very deep cut, she said, and was not easy to stitch being a pad. After an antibiotic injection her paw was well bandaged and we left with her walking on three legs with her injured one in the air.

  There was little point in going back home that afternoon as it was a long way to go so we visited a few local pubs with Shelley making the most of her injury resulting in a few packets of crisps.

  I dropped Stewart in Nottingham returning to Eaton Socon. That evening Shelley became very distressed and I could see she had a temperature. First thing in the morning I took her to a local vet and he confirmed she had picked up an infection. For a couple of days she felt sorry for herself but then the antibiotics took over and she improved no end. The wound healed very slowly once the dressing came off and the air could get to it.

  A few days later a call from the estate agent confirmed I had a buyer for the house – I let my new employer know this had happened and set the ball in motion to move and pack up my belongings. A drive down to Hove and back in a day found a nice letting agent and before I knew it I had found a bed sit i
n a house off Western Road. The property was owned by the Fogle family who had been established Jewish bakers in the town for many years. Their daughter had turned it into flats as an investment and her parents lived on the ground floor opposite me.

  As it happened they liked dogs and I was told providing there was no undue noise and damage done to the property it would be ideal for me to keep her with me.

  A couple of weeks later the contract for my house was exchanged - both of us set off with the furniture van in tow to a new home and a new job. I was pleased to be leaving the area having never being really happy. To this day I have not returned even when passing by on the A1. It was part of my life I wanted to put behind me!

  End of Chapter Seven

  MOVE TO THE SOUTH COAST – CHAPTER 8

  The move was easy – I drove ahead and the furniture van made its own way down to Hove. We met at my Aunt Kath’s house in Braemore Road in Hove where they put most of my furniture in her garage. This was kindly arranged by my cousin Geoff Matthews. I had always kept in touch with Geoff over the years. He played the guitar and had been with a well established group called ‘Design’ and was now living in London hence the garage was empty and he agreed I could use it until I got sorted out.

  We then took the rest of my gear to the new bed sit. This comprised of my clothing, books, my large LP Jazz collection and Hi Fi. I also had two large Quad Electrostatic Loudspeakers which took up a lot of room; sadly these were not to remain with me long as funds were short.

  Once I had sorted things out and Shelley had found a suitable place for herself to call her own we decided to venture out to get some shopping and find our way around.

  The sea was at the foot of the road and there was a park about half a mile away. She loved the sea front with the beach huts and the grass areas behind them and soon found her way down the many steps onto the beach. It was a nice time to move as summer was just starting and the evenings were drawing out.

  I started my new job and there was some initial training to do but the company were very kind indeed and Shelly spent several days behind the main reception greeting all the visitors.

  I had not made any money from the sale of the house. I had agreed via my solicitor to pay Christine’s father a certain sum each month until I had cleared the deposit he lent us. (It was eventually paid and to this day I have kept his nice thank-you letter saying how pleased he was that I had stuck to my promise). The divorce came through and I was now a single man again.

  The new job was going very well indeed and I managed to get home most

  nights other than when I was working in Kent. Shelley enjoyed her travels every day knowing she was going to get a walk at lunch time when I stopped for my sandwiches.

  Hove was fun, and Shelley had found a new pastime collecting the biggest stick or plank she could find that was washed up on the beach. This caused a lot of fun to the many passers by. Some were so heavy she had a problem carrying them, others were so long she could not get them up the steps past the railings. Once on the promenade she was able to find the centre of gravity of the plank and with head down carried along at speed dropping it every now and then. My main concern was the shins of the passers by causing many to scurry to her left or right to avoid a collision. On reflection I can honestly say that we did not get one bad comment regarding her new found pleasure!

  I had a tennis racket and often used it to hit tennis balls along in front of the beach huts. I did this early morning around 6 am when there were not many people around. It gave Shelley a chance to run a long way returning the ball to me after each swipe of the racket. On one occasion the ball bounced hard along the tarmac and over a stone wall. All I heard in the distance was a thud and a yell. Shelley had jumped over the wall by the lagoon to find to her horror a twenty foot drop onto the concrete below. She lay there motionless with the ball bouncing off towards the lagoon. Running down the steps I was joined by another passer by who had witnessed the fall – we got there at the same time to find Shelley whimpering but alive. After a few minutes she came around and stood up – with no visible injuries we made sure she was well. What amused us was the way she walked to the lagoon – it appears she had landed on all fours bruising her pads in the process. It was like watching two bowed legged cowboys walking into the sunset. Not content with that she then jumped into the lagoon to retrieve the ball. On the way back she stayed by me feeling a little sorry for herself!

  The beach played an important part in both of our lives. I loved the sea; like both of my late parents. At any opportunity my mother would go to the beach at Hythe and swim, sometimes several times a day. She was always tanned and looked very fit. My father every evening on his return from work always joined her for a dip in the English Channel ‘come rain or shine.’

  At weekends we always went to the same beach getting to know several local residents who were always there. I never sat with them but was near enough to often have conversations. Shelley was always guaranteed a treat whenever they were there.

  Whenever I went for a swim Shelley would run in after me and swim beside me or around me – I could hold onto her tail and she would pretend to rescue me towing me onto the beach. I remember leaving her once tied up to my beach chair (one of the light fold up types). Before I knew it people were standing up and pointing and laughing. Swimming out to me was Shelley towing the beach chair leaving an assortment of clothing and towels floating in her wake. She was a true water dog!

  Always scrounging for food I recall one evening seeing her run along the waters edge past some beach fishermen. She stopped and sniffed into one of their beach bags and retrieved their sandwiches. There was little I could do other than call her and disappear into the distance with her following carrying a nice fresh pack of sandwiches. I never looked back until we had hidden by a row of beach huts.

  I eventually sold most of my furniture which no doubt pleased my aunt giving her the garage space back. There was little point in keeping it as there was no way I would be able to buy a new property with the financial problems I then had.

  I was doing very well at work and was promoted to Sales Training Manager. I still retained my area as a representative but from time to time ran sales courses lasting several days at a hotel near Gatwick. No problems bringing Shelley and during the day she spent her time with the chambermaids following them around. I have yet to find out what chambermaids did in the kitchens?

  The hotel also ran training courses for Dan Air staff. As there was a large swimming pool outside it was used for practice drill to rescue passengers if an aircraft had ditched into the sea.

  One by one the trainee cabin crews jumped into the pool fully clothed and made their way to an inflated rubber dingy followed by Shelley barking and swimming around them waiting to be rescued. I did ask if there were any objections, but all seemed happy.

  What was also nice was that one could leave her in the hotel room knowing that there would be no damage or no barking which was a real added bonus.

  One night when we were away I came back to the room to find she had been very ill. I found a grey paper mache tray on the floor up-side down with the name Rentokil on the side. It was no ones fault - the pest control people had put a repellent under one of the radiator cabinets resulting in Shelley retrieving it and eating the contents. I contacted the local vets and Rentokil and was advised to give her lots of water. I am glad to say all returned to normal after a few hours. The hotel also accepted full responsibility and I was offered a free weekend of my choice as a result (which I have never taken to this day). Shelly also went back home with a box of goodies!

  As time went on – we became a pair and many people living in the area got to know us – in those early days I kept my-self to my-self. If I did go out for a drink it was always to the same place a hotel called Langford’s in ‘Third Avenue’.

  It was family run and the manager Roy Merrick was a wonderful person. He had a dog of his own and it was one of those establishments that had a very good
local clientele. We were soon accepted (like in Southwold) and Shelley became part of the furniture with her regular place under one of the long seats by the window popping her head out from time to time to make sure I was still there. I made some good friends – one person a chap called Guy Patterson whose father had been a Navy pilot in the war was always very sociable. We got to know each other well and his parents were great characters. Brian his father had some interesting stories relating to his wartime flying experiences and as it happened turned out to be quite a hero resulting in some medals for his bravery. Both Joyce and Brian Patterson were to become long standing friends of mine.

  Life in Hove was going well however; there was one problem, money and trying to save and get something sorted for the future was not going to plan whilst it seemed such a waste to spend money on renting when I could look at ways to save money for a deposit for a property of my own.

  One day as it was nice and sunny I took a long walk to Southwick to have a drink in ‘The Schooner Inn’. This was the pub I went to many years ago when they were making the film ‘Oh What a Lovely War.’

  It had not changed and the landlord was the same plus there was a great view over the harbour and old power station. Both Shelley and my-self were made welcome. I had some free cheese and biscuits, being Sunday he managed to scrounge a packet of crisps from a couple at the bar. Suddenly there were two loud bangs and three of the pub regulars ran out leaving their drinks and drove off at speed. As I was to find out later they were members of the local Shoreham Lifeboat crew.