That Leather Bootlace with Three Washers

I don't know why or even how we came to the subject but in conversation with a friend about a month ago, amongst other topics, we discovered that we had, as children, both been members of the Cubs and Scouts.
More than half hour passed as we racked our memories to recall events of more than fifty years ago. My one abiding memory during that conversation, and it has nagged in the back of my mind for the ensuing couple of weeks, concerns a leather boot lace tied together at the ends so as to form a large loop that may be placed over the head and hang around the neck like a necklace at the end is attached three small steel washers, the sort of thing you would place between a nut and bolt.

Over the years  I had sub consciously erased this article this longed for item, this object of my desire from my memory, perhaps it seems things like this, etched for ever into the memory, may never be forgotten.

I was a member of the 8th Tonbridge[Hildenbourgh] Scout Group, between  the years 1956 and 1964. First as a Wolf Cub and then progressing, when age allowed, to the Scouts.

I remember the day I joined the Cubs, there were three other boys joining as well. Gerald Askey who for obvious reasons to those readers of a certain age immediately earned the nickname Arthur and for the ensuing eight years as Cub and Scout we became firm friends and I always called him Arthur, to his mother I even referred to him as Arthur. We were both to end our Scouting days as Patrol Leaders, he of Owls Patrol and me of Kestrels.
Paul Hopper who even at that age was into music and later in the 'swinging sixties' he was to join a pop group called The Overlanders. Paul would end his Scouting as my Assistant Patrol Leader in Kestrels.
Finally there was David Humphries who after only a couple of weeks became known and would only answer to Humph. Some years later Humph would become one of the most popular boys. Firstly his parents were licensees of the Flying Dutchman, one of the two pubs in the village and secondly his older sister was employed as a secretary in London with Radio Caroline and Humph was, via his sister, and endless supply of Radio Caroline merchandise  freebies; pens, mugs, stickers, posters etc.

My time as a cub I recall was uneventful. I put a little effort in and obtained a couple of proficiency badges, swimming, cyclist and map reader readily spring to mind though there were one or two others I suspect. During those early years I and the other boys climbed the slippery slope of both promotion and seniority within the pack. It was a happy time, I enjoyed it and for a couple of hours each week I could escape the maternal apron strings and scream and shout, swing from trees, climb ropes and plan escapades with other boys my own age group, yes it was fun, but what I did not fully realise was that Scouts were soon to beckon and though I could have no knowledge of it then but that leather boot lace adorned with three steel washers was to haunt me.

Edward Manners known to all the parents, supporters and Patrons as Ted but to us boys as Skip was the Scout Master. A tall thin man with a thin drawn face and long nose who always seemed to wear a pair of corduroy shorts with brown shoes. From the first time I met him, and even as I imagine him now in my memory, his looks always reminded me of Montgomery the famous war time military leader. Skip ruled the troop with a friendly but very firm hand and he had that magical quality of making everything seem effortless and he gave all of us boys much encouragement and belief in ourselves.  A staunch Christian he never drank alcohol, smoked or used profane language. When he got angry, which he did from time to time he would call us 'Bods' and when he was really angry he would refer to us as 'Flipping Bods'. For someone who ran a youth organization he had a terrible memory and could rarely remember any of our names, he would point to us and proclaim 'Boy', 'Yes you boy' like some school headmaster. One of the funniest things he often did was to point to someone near to him and say 'come here boy' when the lad went to see what he wanted Skip would point at some other individual and ask 'what is that boys name'?  However he always trusted us, sadly in hindsight we boys occasionally betrayed that trust.

One example of this springs to mind. The event that that was to go into troop folklore simply as 'The Aldis  Lamp Incident'.

 One Friday night [Scouts always took place on Friday 8-10 pm] Skip had been encouraging Arthur, Paul, Humph another friend David Gurr and I to learn basic morse code and to test this self taught skill we were split into three groups, Humph and me and David with Paul and Arthur as an independent judge and observer. Outside the Scout hut was a strip of grass stretching perhaps almost a quarter of a mile in length. We were given two sets of Aldis lamps each with a morse key and one group dispatched to each end.
Skip appeared and informed us our task was first to assemble the Aldis lamps and check their operation then one group would send a set message to the other group in morse by lamp flashes the receiving pair would decode the message form a suitable reply and send the reply back to the others. Arthur was to watch, judge and observe, Skip then left.
Time passes and we realise after endless lamp flashing and shouting to each other that it is all a hopeless exercise. Arthur is summoned from his neutral position on the sidelines, given a message on a piece of paper and sent to deliver it to the others. A short while later Arthur reappears from the darkness with the reply written on the reverse of the bit of paper, just about the same time as Skip returns. We all then to a boy lie and tell Skip what a success it had all been and how we are all encouraged to continue to learn morse code.

Some ten or twelve years ago I recounted this story on Friends Reunited and after a day or so both Paul and David posted a message on the Scout group forum to confirm its accuracy and that they remembered it well and how to their knowledge Skip never found out the truth.  Skip wherever you are now on behalf of the others I offer you an unreserved apology for betraying your trust in us.

The highlight of the Scout year was always the two week summer camp taking place during the school summer holidays, when the troop would pack up and travel, by way of Skip's van and the kindness of many parents acting as willing taxi drivers, to some distant point in the country and set up camp for two weeks. Camps I remember took place in numerous locations stretching from the Home Counties, the West Country, Wales and Scotland. Summer Camps were in a way the culmination of the Scouting year, it was the time we were able to display various practical skills learnt during the year but due to space, time or other constraints were unable to bring into being further. During summer camps the troop maintained the principle of operating as four separate Patrols [Kestrels, Owls, Woodpeckers and Kingfishers] within the central core of the Troop. Each patrol had its own tent, its own kitchen, cooking and washing area, it had its own pots and pans, washing bowls, it collected daily its own ration of food from the central Troop Quartermaster, sufficient  to feed the patrol three meals for the day, in effect each patrol was a self contained sub unit but still linked to the Troop as a whole.

This really is where my problems began. Each evening the four Patrol Leaders were summoned to a meeting held by Skip. During this meeting we were told what was planned for the following days activities, if anything in particular was planned, if there were any visitors expected and so on, we were to go back and brief our patrols so all boys had at least a basic idea of what was going on and anything that was planned. Always and without fail the last item of  the briefing was which patrol had the honour of hosting Skip for the following day. This 'hosting' meant that Skip would be woken with a mug of tea in the morning, whilst he was drinking that a bowl of hot water would be delivered to his tent so he could wash and shave. After which  he would eat all meals with that patrol for the day and as it turned out drink endless quantities of tea which put a strain on the patrol as we did all his washing up as well.

After breakfast each morning there would be a camp inspection. Each patrol would empty their tents, all bedding was lined up smartly outside [except if it was raining] and displayed in a uniform and set layout. The bottoms of the tent would be folded up to allow air to blow through the tent during the day. The patrol kitchen had to be clean, all pots pans plates etc washed dried and also displayed to a set layout and all litter to be picked up, in short the patrol area had to be absolutely spotless at the start of each day. Skip and the Patrol leader would carry out the inspection and Skip would add or deduct points from a score sheet for each patrol area as he went along.

At the end of each inspection the patrol was allowed to put all the bedding back into the tents whilst Skip with the aid of a mug of tea supplied by and from the hosting patrol tallied up the score to find the winner for that morning. The Troop would parade, forming a square with a patrol on each side and Skip would stand in the middle announce in reverse order and with the number of points scored that day the names of patrols. The patrol leader of the winning patrol would then be awarded 'The Camp Badge' for the day, a leather bootlace with three washers tied to the end would then be proudly presented and he would wear it to show all that for that day at least his patrol was the best.

I spent the last three years of my Scouting career as a Patrol Leader, the first year I was with Kingfishers and the last two with Kestrels. During this time I attended three summer camps, a total of forty two days and not once during that time did I ever win, even for single day, that damn leather bootlace with three washers tied to the end. God I tried, you don't know how I tried. I tried kindness, I tried indifference, I tried strong arm bully boy tactics; I even tried bribery, in those days a bottle of Cream Soda or Tizer could go a long way, it could grease a few palms I can tell you, I have known Scouts, mainly Owls Patrol I admit, who would commit murder for half a bottle of Cream Soda and two Gobstoppers.

Even Adrian Moss won it once, Adrian Moss and Woodpeckers Patrol for goodness sake, I ask you, what a wet boy he was. Arthur was a regular recipient with Owls Patrol and even Paul, my Assistant Patrol Leader threatened to ask for a transfer if I did not somehow bring honour and fortune to the Patrol, sorry Paul.

So there you have it, it seems even in those distant days I learnt that you cannot always have everything you want, sometimes it does matter how hard you work or wish for something it will always allude you and so it was with that leather bootlace and three washers. However I suppose looking back it did teach me something, never give up and I could always try harder.

Perhaps that is not such a bad epitaph to come away from childhood with after all.