Three or four of us were playing together, at the far end of the site and noticed that the Gulls were nesting on the cliffs, so some one suggested that we should go and get some Seagulls eggs. We proceeded down to the shore and made our along towards the cliffs. Part of the way was blocked by some very large rocks, that had come away from the cliffs in the distant past, We had to climb up from the shore and make our way along higher up. We eventually came to an area that moved inwards in a ’U’ shape, at the bottom of a valley that came down from the Marine Drive above,( Looking at the map of the Orme, it is the area just past Squatters Rocks.) I’d been here several times before, but the water ran down it making it very slippery and this was an area that made me scared.
8
Successfully negotiating the ’ Danger Zone, ’ we got to the nesting area and collected several eggs. Making our way back, I had nothing to carry my eggs in, so I tucked my pullover into my trouser top and tightened my belt. And placing the eggs in the front of my pullover, we crossed the ’Danger Zone ’ and along the shoreline ’til we had to go back up to the site.
It was a scramble up a grassy slope, almost to the top I slipped forward,’ Crunch ’ OH, NO.! With egg yolk oozing out of my pullover, I made my way to the top and took it off, getting some of the contents all over my hands, face and hair, what a sticky sight.! Wiping off what I could on the grass, I made my way home.
Mother decided I warranted a bath, so down came the tin bath off the kitchen wall, and after several kettles of hot water, off the fire grate, I was bathed. It was unusual for me to have my bath first, as my sister usually had that privilege. Seagulls eggs have a strong flavour when boiled or fried, more palatable scrambled, but I preferred them when mother made an egg custard.
One of my friends lived on the top Radar site and often came down to play. One day on his way down, he was confronted by a group of Nanny Goats with their young Kids, he deviated off the path to avoid them, but one of the Nannies took exception to his presence and Charged. Wallop! Straight into a gorse bush. He arrived in a state of distress, his arms and legs covered in tiny red spots, where the gorse spines had pierced his skin, just deep enough to draw blood. It wasn’t often that the Goats attacked, but you had to be wary when they had Kids.
A group of us decided to camp out one summer weekend and pitched a tent, in the field, at the bottom of the slope into the site, behind the home of the Smiths. We spent the first night messing about and giggling, so in the morning we were knackered. The next night, we spent some time after dark, collecting Gloworms off the grasses between the gorse bushes and putting them in a jar to light the tent, but they do not glow for very long. We took them back in the morning. They are not a worm but a beetle, the females are flightless and to attract a mate, the end of the abdomen glows with a greenish / yellowish light. The males are attracted by the light and fly in. ( I’ve been up there several times after dark, June / July time, but have not found them again ) Being so tired, we went to sleep and slept right through. In the morning someone suggested that we went to Peter Smiths house, at the other end of the site, as they kept a few chickens, it was not unknown for these chickens to lay eggs in the bushes by their house. We’d helped to find them with Peter on previous occasions.
We set off full of hope, searching around, one of the lads found a large clutch of eggs just under the edge of a gorse bush. We gathered a few and headed back to the tent, I diverted home to get a frying pan, whilst the others got a fire going. Retuning to camp, we built up the fire with bracken and twigs out of the hedge, placed the frying pan onto the fire, we cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, a few seconds elapsed until the smell hit us. The eggs must have been in the gorse bush for weeks, and boy were they addled.
The remainder of the eggs were swiftly despatched over the hedge onto the shore below. We departed to our respective homes for breakfast, me taking the frying pan back
Mother was non too pleased, she made a tentative attempt to clean it, but the smell was to much and it was consigned to the bin.
The Family who lived in the first Cottage, on the left of the site had no electric when they moved in, cooking was done on the fire, or a small paraffin stove.
On the opposite side of the road there was a flat roofed shelter, the front facing seawards. Access was by a door at the back of the building, inside was a large single room, the seaward facing wall had several square openings, which gave an uninterrupted view of the sea. These openings could be closed by some heavy metal shutters on the outside. I think that they were used as observation posts during firing and they had an electrical supply. The Sutcliffs lived in a similar one, just past the large hump, in the middle of the site, on the right hand side. ( I digress. )
Back to the family in the cottage, over a period of time, he chiselled a groove across the road to the shelter, ( it can still be seen today.) I think he put the cable through a metal conduit pipe, to supply his home, life became a little easier for them.
Some time later, I was walking down the hill, when I saw a sheep lying in a puddle on the road, where this electric supply ran. When I got closer I realised that it was Dead. I went home and told dad, we returned and dad went to turn off the supply in the shelter and the sheep was removed, it had obviously been electrocuted. A bit of a row ensued, and the supply was dug out and re-laid. If I had touched the beast I would not have been here to tell the tale.
I’d had an electric shock some time previously, I had gone down from my house to see Leslie Drabble, who lived on the left hand side of the road, just below. The entrance that they used was on the seaward side of the building, through the door was a dark corridor, I knocked on the door and entered, Leslie called me in, as I proceeded I flicked the light switch, the next thing I was on the floor. The switches were all metal and the conduit ran down the outside of the wall, They would be illegal these days,
Talk of the dead sheep has just brought to mind another incident. At the Eastern end of the large hump, was an Emergency Water Supply concrete tank. Passing by one day I heard a sheep bleating, on further investigation I discovered a sheep had fallen into the tank and was unable to get out. It had probably fallen in whilst trying to get a drink, as it was a hot summer that year and the grass on the Orme was dry and brown. I attempted to try and grasp it, but each time I reached down, it swam away out of reach.
On reflection it was probably just as well, because as good as my intentions were the damn thing probably weighed more than I did and would and more than likely have dragged me in, we would have drowned together, as there was no one else around. I went to fetch my father, but by the time we got back it was too late. It was out of reach so there it remained, stinking to high heaven.
Going back through these events, it is beginning to make me think that I’ve led a charmed life!!!