I don't know about you, but I have fond memories of growing up?
I lived on the edge of a military garrison town about 12 miles from Aldershot, the home of the British Army.
Bordon played a big part in the defence of the nation dating back to the Boar War.
The whole area formed a part of my boyhood garden - here I reminisce a bit about 'my garden' and it's part in my childhood.
Longmoor, the original garrison which is about three miles from Bordon, was built by troops returning from the Boar War campaign and started out as a tented camp - in fact, there is evidence of tented camps way before the turn of the 1900s with many neolithic and bronze age settlements being uncovered in the area and an old Roman road runs down one of the old roads of Longmoor, through Blackmoor - where a hoard of Roman silver coins were found near to Woolmer (Wolmer) pond - and right behind my old house in Oakhanger.
Longmoor was found to be too damp for the troops and a large amount of chest complaints led to the camp being re-located to Bordon. To do this, 21 huts were jacked up on bogeys and transported, using a specially built railway, to Bordon.
In the mid sixties, Bordon was a thriving town but clearly separated from the more attractive Whitehill where I came to live, with my parents in 1964. Life started on the Redhouse caravan site, just a stones throw - literally - from the Royal and Electrical and Mechanical Engineers training base and the tank training area.
Everything revolved around the army. There were support businesses everywhere. At the end of Hogmoor Road was a small Café, primarily for the services (Oakhanger was a crucial RAF signal station too) run by two men (latterly a travelling family) before it was demolished and two bungalows were built on the site.
Opposite these were the rather bold Officers houses (which still exist, unchanged since they were built) on the edge of Bolley Avenue with the sergeants and corporals quarters laying behind these in a horseshoe type crescent. The road past Bolley avenue takes you onto Shortheath Common and also to the now rather run-down Bordon Officers Social Club (now run as a private social club).
Behind the social club ran the Bentley loop of the now defunct Longmoor Military Railway. The Bordon Station (now the Bordon Trading estate) was behind the Officers houses on the Oakhanger Road. The station was actually a British Rail station but had a military halt too which received troops from the mainline London to Bentley. Once disembarked, the troops would march from the station, through the pine trees, over the Military railway crossing and down to whichever barracks that were going to house them for their stay.
Growing up on a council estate
I grew up on a 1930's built council estate called Firgrove. There were two parts to it, the older houses (circa 1935) which were built in a heavy stock brick (Selborne handmade bricks I recall) and the infill houses (circa 1950's) which were built with a machine made LBC fletton.
It was a great place to live. Everyone knew everyone and looked out for each other. There was a game of football, what seemed like every Sunday, on the 'green' and even my Dad and other Dad's took part - mind you, your Dad seemed old when you were 8 years old but he was still in his twenties.
The green was also the venue for the grand bonfire on bonfire night (we didn't called it Guy Fawkes then for some reason) but we also, because we had one of the largest gardens on the grove, held a big 'bonny' in our garden at No 17.
In those days, land was not at the same premium that it is today and where I grew up was a quiet and spacious area. With the military starting to vacate the peripheral areas, it meant less jobs and no need to stay for some of the workers. It was very much a transient place in the sixties and Bordon was viewed as a dead end posting.
The surrounding heathland was the most amazing playground for us kids. The pine trees grew in abundance and the heather, although sadly not managed as it had been previously, was everywhere.
Playing war games and hide'n'seek on the training area was great and because the tanks passed within two hundred yards of the grove we could also add a bit of realism to the war games. The tank crews, and the instructors whose children sometimes were amongst our group, would play along too; sometimes the troops would stop the tank (mainly Chieftains or APC's) and we would be allowed to scramble over the tank whilst they had a fag break.
Developers started to speculate on the vast tracts of land that was once our big garden and Bordon became a gold mine as a great land rush got under way.
Unfortunately, the parish council did not take adequate steps to log and photograph the military history and apart from amateur photographs, there is little to remind the now burgeoning population about the part Bordon and Whitehill played in the great war efforts.
The Longmoor railway was also a great source of fun as a kid too. It closed in 1969 when I was five year of age but I still have memories of seeing the steam trains running under Whitehill bridge as they shunted to-and-fro from Longmoor to Bordon.
This photo shows some of the original track which is still in place. The site is just before the line split from the Longmooor camp line to the Hollywater loop. The road (track) that is crossing takes you to the Butts of range three.
There are still many places (if you know where to look) which has original evidence of the Longmoor Military Railway.
I once saw Marty Feldman (the comedian with a wonky eye) jump from a red double decker bus onto a the roof of a moving railway carriage. I cannot remember exactly how it went but I think it must have been shot in two parts. First the jump from the bus and then (because I remember Feldman standing on the concrete ledge which was the other side of the white-pointed, metal railings.
Parts of the original St Trinians was also filmed on the Longmoor railway and I recognise many of the views from the film (although I have not seen it for ages).
The track was lifted in the early seventies with the old train track being used for many years as a tank route to keep the great big chieftains off of the A325, which carved its way through Bordon and Whitehill.
On the Blackmoor side of Whitehill was the ever-so-different landscape of rolling hills and large oak woods and beech hangars. The heather dwindled out after Slab Common and the holly and hawthorn took its place.
This is the estate (which is largely still intact) of Lord Selborne. The Lord had Blackmoor Golf Club built, in conjunction with Harry Colt - the golf course designer - for the Gentlemen and Officers of Bordon garrison and surrounding areas.
1912, the date the original twelve hole course opened, was an extraordinary time for the officers and gentlemen. Commoners didn't play then and I can imaging the batmen carrying an officers clubs on a morning round before a sumptuous feast in the black painted colonial clubhouse over a a few stiff drinks.
I started my career as an assistant greenkeeper on Blackmoor in 1979. Even back then it was definitely still a rich man's sport. Forget apartheid, class separation existed big time back then. When I started on the green staff, the artisan membership even had their own clubhouse next to the greenkeepers shed. They were restricted when they could play and had to fulfil certain duties on the course in order to qualify for a game. Mind you, I remember clearly, before the artisans section disbanded, the golfers were more skilled and keener than many of the main membership. (the artisan section eventually became 'normal' members as their money was much needed back in the early eighties to keep the club afloat.)
The members bought the course from Lord Selborne for £100,000 (not before he sold off half the second fairway and the teeing ground for the third for housing.)
It was another great playground for us and golf ball collecting was a good little source of income for a hard strapped nine year old. Caddying was another - it was not uncommon to see thirty boys sitting on the caddy bench at the top of the car park waiting for a generous (and usually old) golfer to pick us as we waited patiently in line.
I could go on and on but what a garden I grew up in! - what are your memories?
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