August 22, 2012 by dontbringlulubook
There was just the occasional breeze drifting in from the south-west but it was enough for us to catch the intermittent smell of the Fawley oil refinery. It was the day of the annual village fete at Locks Heath on the main road between Southampton and Portsmouth. We had been living there for about a year.
The family comprised of my wife, Doris; our eldest daughter, Sarah, who was coming up to four years old; our new baby, Louise, nicknamed Lulu; a cat called Georgie who came to us in mysterious circumstances in Tottenham (we’ll explain later); and myself, a Sports Editor of the Tottenham Weekly Herald to the sub-editors’ desk of Brighton’s evening newspaper, the Argus, where I also sat in as Sports Editor from time to time. The football on the coast wasn’t in quite the same class as where I’d come from, but the views in every direction beat London by a mile.
However, in 1960, television beckoned, in the shape of Southhampton-based Southern TV, one of the new regional ITV services recently given the go-ahead by the government. A year later, I was lured away to the nearby BBC regional programme, ‘South at Six.’ Which bought us, via a couple of house moves, to Locks Heath and the fete just down the road.