(Continued)
There were quite a few local characters that one eventually got to know, and I must say that they all turned out to be friendly. One was Jim, the gardener to Sargents the builders. I remember going to the Cock for a drink one night and sitting in his usual place was Jim. He was in a good mood and was pulling my leg about not seeing much of me round the village. I was too tied up in my garden, he said. I eventually broke into his conversation and said that the next time I passed his house I would call in for a cuppa. "You do that", he said. It was about two days later when I made a late night visit to Melbourne Bridge at 12 midnight. Cycling back at about 12.40 a.m. and passing Jim's house, I thought now's the time. I knocked on his door and after a little delay the light came on in the bedroom and a sleepy voice from the window demanded to know who was there. I shone my torch onto myself and told him I was just passing and would like the cuppa he had so kindly offered. The language went a bit ripe so I left him to it. A couple of nights later in the Cock Jim was in his usual chair and on me going in he went to great lengths to tell everybody there how the Policeman had caught him out. He then bought me a pint.

Another time, my near neighbour Derek asked if I would help him to line up his T.V. aerial. That Sunday afternoon he got a ladder and there was I rather perilously astride his roof turning the aerial and listening to his shouted orders. On looking back towards the police station I saw my wife at the office door talking to my Superintendent, who I presumed was out for a drive with his wife and had decided to call in to sign my books. I could see from the expression on my wife's face that I was needed so I came down and received a rollicking from the Super who appeared more concerned whether I was insured for such antics than for my safety.

P.C. John Auckland