The Gravel Pits
The Gravel Pits

At the age of nine I lived in the suburbs close to the countryside,
where I would enjoy to roam with my friends at the weekends or in
school holidays. We would climb trees, make tree swings and
scramble on push bikes. We would dare ourselves to descend steeper
and steeper drops. We made a den each, deep into the woods where no
one could find us. We would retreat spending hours of play time
amusing ourselves in creative curiosity at our rustic enviroment.
The stream was a fascination, for hours we would watch clear
shining waters flow down, teaming with life. Near by there were air
raid shelters left over from the second world war and the old
skellingthorpe airdrome. There were gravel pits too. Their deep
excavated craters had long since flooded where bulrushes, gauze
bushes, thistles and nettles grew wildly about.

My friend Andy lived down the street from me. His back garden led
onto the gravel pits. It was a good place for wildlife and fishing.
Andy had always liked animals and kept many pets. We would often go
over the gravel pits to play. One day two men were over there
shooting birds. This met with Andy's disapproval. We started
shouting at them from a distance to put them off their shoot. It
seemed to work, so we carried on playing like children do. Suddenly
a gunman appeared from nowhere, "Don't Move or I'll shoot!" he
shouted loudly. We were terrified and ran, but we were trapped by
water. I thought of diving in then changed my mind, in a flash the
gun went bang! I froze, shaking with fright. My legs nearly gave
way. They threatened to throw us in the water with concrete socks.
After some time they told us to walk off. As I walked off I thought
they were going to shoot. Just then I felt a hard boot up my arse
and ran off to play another day.
Things have changed since I was nine, I am thirty three now. The
gravel pits are private land for fishing. The airdrome and air raid
shelters have been removed. The land is now part of the city domain
with blocks of flats where dogs bark and children play in the
streets. I think back with plaintive emotions.

Adrian Cox 1998