Part I: Seals teeth and whales ears - Scott Polar Research Institute ...

uined abbey and a castle on a rocky mound, colourful fishing boats in the small
harbour and other upturned boats painted with pitch, used as storehouses for nets and
lobster-pots by the fishermen. It provided a marked contrast to the Farnes and there
were longer walks to take.
When I was about eight or nine years old I was given my first bicycle. It was quite a
heavy man's bike, second-hand with 28 inch wheels (possibly 30 inches), a ‘Raleigh’ and
very heavy and solidly built. But it had a "Sturmey-Archer" three-speed gear and it got
me around. I was very proud of it and it broadened my range of activities, particularly
during the summer months. I particularly remember cycling one day to Plessey Woods,
a local beauty spot about fourteen miles away from home, with friends. We had an
adventurous day, but eventually, trying to cross a weir over the river I fell into the water
and got thoroughly soaked. We built a fire to dry my clothes, but it wasn't a great
success; the wood wasn't dry, the fire was not very hot and it was very smokey so the
clothes didn't get much drier and they smelt strongly of wood-smoke. Cycling home
damply in the dusk was rather uncomfortable and I caught a tongue-lashing from my
mother when we got back. We made other excursions into the surrounding countryside.
I was not at that time particularly interested in natural history, but we did all the usual
things that boys did, like collecting birds' eggs, and I collected butterflies.
What I do remember is that the countryside was relatively unspoilt, except for the
rivers and streams, which were heavily polluted by the coal dust and other effluents
from the mining industry that surrounded us. Seaton Sluice, a small village to the north
of Whitley Bay, was an attractive and unusual fishing harbour with a narrow exit to the
sea between high cliffs. The river that ran through Hollywell Dene, a wooded valley,
and into Seaton Sluice was for many years completely black, both the banks, river
bottom (seen at low tide) and the water itself. Other rivers were grey from different
industrial activities or black from the coal mining. And of course they supported no fish
or wildlife.
Other transport experiences were when a college friend of Peter's came up during
the University vacation in his Austin seven car, when I was about eleven. He drove us
one fine summer evening to Plessey Woods and it seemed the height of luxury. That
was eclipsed later when I had a ride with my mother and a wealthy friend in a Rolls
Royce; I was ecstatic when the speedometer hit 60 mph, and the car was whisper-quiet -
broken only by the ticking of the proverbial clock. But for the most part I travelled by
foot, bicycle or public transport.
My first school, from the age of five was the Park Primary School, Monkseaton,
within easy walking distance of my home, which I attended until I was 7 or 8 years old. I
can still remember the thrill of acquiring knowledge, particularly of geography, but I
don't remember much about the school or about my teachers. Inside there was a central
hall, surrounded by classrooms that had large windows opening onto the central area. It
was a rather grim building, withy hard (unforgiving to knees) playgrounds where we
spent the breaks in activities like fighting, kicking a ball about, skipping, and others -
bowling hoops, marbles, tiddly winks and conkers, which followed a seasonal pattern,
although I can't remember how it was set - except, for obvious reasons the conkers. I
don't remember any of the teachers now, but have vivid memories of the School Dentist,
who came once a year with a mobile surgery. Preventative dentistry was very primitive
then and anaesthetics poor; his visits were very painful and prejudiced me against
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