{"id":1495,"date":"2023-05-07T06:05:41","date_gmt":"2023-05-07T06:05:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/tim-dawson.com\/?p=1495"},"modified":"2023-05-09T21:21:15","modified_gmt":"2023-05-09T21:21:15","slug":"white-again","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tim-dawson.com\/?p=1495","title":{"rendered":"White about now"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

A Solent crossing conjures memories<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The umbilical link that once joined ferries and trains is obvious as you await passage to the Isle of Wight. Wightlink\u2019s<\/a> foot-passenger terminal forms part of Portsmouth Harbour station; in days past, porters heaved cases from platform to dockside down the long concrete ramp that joins the two. Early on a rainy Saturday in April, I found myself in a deserted waiting area.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Arriving next were an octogenarian couple bound for a school reunion. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lithe, twinkling and keen to pass the time of day; he took the seat beside mine. After years in the RAF, civilian work took him down under where he flew passenger planes for a major airline, he told me.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"The<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n

\u201cWhen I was a boy, it was paddle steamers between here and the island\u201d, he said. \u201cIn the summer, the boats were packed with trippers, who would crowd on the landward deck, causing the boats to list over, lifting the opposite paddle wheel clean from the water. Crew members had to frantically corral passengers around the decks to obtain an even spread of weight\u201d. I read later that a fleet of seven of these vessels plied this route until the 1950s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My new companion was enjoying talking. He said that he assumed that, like him, I was an islander?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I explained what most detect from my accent \u2013 I grew up in Yorkshire. My previous visit to the Island was fifty years earlier. Today I planned a fleeting disembarkment to collect an tandem purchased on eBay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We chatted on. He had left the island as a teenager for a peripatetic service life. Despite long absence, he beamed pride in his roots. The Island\u2019s marine engineering, hovercrafts, and Bembridge, its tiny airport were all evidence of a settlement that punched above its weight, he enthused. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy am I burbling like this\u201d, he wondered. A momentary frown creased his brow. \u201cYou are an islander yourself, aren\u2019t you, I\u2019m not telling you anything you don\u2019t know\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I corrected him a second time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded and was off again \u2013 visits to the island from famous aeroplanes, the radar station, a flight in a Spitfire that he had narrowly missed, the thrill of piloting a four-engined jumbo. I pictured him in his Captain\u2019s uniform; an imposing sight, I imagined. He was still dapper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere is it best for us to wait\u201d, he asked me, reminding me that we islanders took pride in being ahed of the visitors in the queue for the boat? My origin story had no traction. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He took my ignorance in his stride and asked a staff member. Then he launched into his father and uncle\u2019s part in defeating the Luftwaffe. Two rows of seats away, his wife pleaded \u201cnot the war, please!\u201d Like my Tyke protestations, her words were lost to the ether. He didn\u2019t stop, and with departure some way off, I enjoyed his sentimental tableaux.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*******<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRock The Boat\u201d by the Hues Corporation enables me to pinpoint the childhood holiday that I spent on the Isle of Wight. Often claimed as the first major disco hit, in the summer of 1974 the joyful floor filler played endlessly in the island\u2019s cafes and amusement arcades. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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