I missed out on skateboards and BMX

I missed out on skateboards and . . . what do you call those small bikes with handlebars that go all the way round? BMX?, I suggest. Yes, BMX bikes, he says. I'd have liked to have tried those, and skateboards. Pat, who now goes into Camelford on the bus each Friday and propels himself through the park on sticks, while carrying his rucksack, used to be a canoeing instructor. I mentioned that I have started kayaking.

Having grown up on a farm during the war, Pat was very confident driving articulated vehicles, so in the RAF he drove Queen Marys (huge transporter trailers which could move a Lancaster). In civilian life he would become a lorry driving instructor. In the airforce he was an air gunnery instructor. He'd first learnt about trajectories from his dad. If a bomber is overhead, you are safe, he'd been told, as he watched the skies filled with German aeroplanes. You only have to worry if it hasn't got to you yet.

I mentioned that my dad lived with his mum and siblings on a farm during the war too...in Wales. Sort of evacuees. Not necessarily an ideal place to evacuate to, Pat said. Living 12 miles from Cardiff he'd seen the devastating effects of bombing raids.

After the airforce he flew...just small stuff, PPL. "I fly", I said. Pat was particularly impressed when I added that I fly microlights. He is sorry to have missed out on those too. He flew Austers. He was never good enough to instruct, but he has always been a teacher, one way or another. He was a driving instructor and was always into cars. He lists them, "I had a Jaguar" but never had sports cars as they are impractical for bringing up a family. His daughter is in Australia now. Where? I ask. Melbourne, he says. With my sister, I say! Pat saw Australia in the old days; and the Far East too...but doesn't elaborate.

When he was 16 he drove an Austin 7 from Worcester to Mevagissey with a friend for a wedding. They broke down on the way, left the car behind and hitched the rest of the way, still wearing their suits, as they hadn't wanted to carry luggage. When they arrived in the middle of the night they were black all over, having got a ride on the back of a coal lorry. The lady they were staying with stripped them off and scrubbed them "behind the ears with a toothbrush" and washed their clothes, getting them ready, just in time, for the wedding. "Women, then, could really rise to the occasion". I ask what happened to the car. I don't know, he says, that was 65 years ago!

"The old people had it right. They need to bring back capital punishment. We can't say we are too civilised. Look how we keep bombing other countries...Iraq, Afghanistan..."  Well, I am with you at least on the second part of your argument, I say. He smiles, clearly sensing that he should back off on this one, though those old people get several more mentions.

My dad smoked a pipe, I say. I made him a pipe rack at school in woodwork. Pat said he didn't mind me taking some photos and while I did so, told me that people often tell him their dads smoked pipes. "Ladies lean in towards me at the bus stop, they are practically in my lap" breathing in the rich aroma connecting them to the past. "I rather enjoy it" he says with a cheeky grin.