WHISPERING SMITH: Movie memories

It was founded by Rustington Heritage Association, which held a film and slide show to celebrate the jubilee.

All were interesting pictures, with by far the most stunning the 1963, 9mm movie shot by Bob Currie, one-time architect for Littlehampton Urban District Council and Arun, and co-founder of the Littlehampton Cine Club.

He filmed the harsh winter through the window of his car with one hand, while holding the vehicle steady on the treacherous road with the other. The result of his endeavour was well worth the risk.

It was known as The Big Freeze, with the streets of LA deep in snow and the Channel salt, and the Arun frozen. The iced surface was littered with dead eels and the wildfowl left to wonder where the river had gone!

Slopes were tobogganed and any expanse of frozen open water skated. I am reliably informed that Bob left other cine records, including the burning of the Liz Boa, and it would be great to view those in the future.

Another gem was a photo study by Mike Constable of John Helyer’s farm entitled “The Lost Farm”. Excellent stuff that revived memories of my own childhood, as my father knew John and our house bordered one of his fields.

I bumped into John recently at the Vardar Restaurant, where he was celebrating a family birthday. He was sharp, entertaining and as delightful as ever and quite happy to reminisce about the hut on wheels, the yellow Caterpillar tractor and the children who found any excuse to play in his hay barn – and I was one of those.

You could pop in for a bag of rabbit bedding and stay as long as you dared, bouncing around in among the loose and baled straw. Ah, halcyon days…

MEWSBROOK FUN The all volunteer-run Jubilee Day at Mewsbrook Park was a lot of fun. The worthwhile Fort Restoration Project, the young dancers, the Pimm’s and, above all, the Hawking About raptors – although they were pretty much grounded.

The fluffy baby owl, as babies will, did steal that particular show. But I guess the highlight of the two-day event was the non lighting of the town beacon by the new mayor. Seemingly, her matches were damp and failed to ignite the fuel and it was left to a man on a ladder to fire the pyre.

A fun moment, enjoyed by what seemed to be thousands of revellers. The real joy was, of course the low-slung, full orange moon and what seemed to be a pathway of rippling light on an almost motionless sea.