It Happened To Me | Len Waghorn

Gran's Sledge Ride

During the very cold winter of 1946/47 my aunts and uncles decided to hold a party. Family get-togethers were a common occurrence during my childhood and I can remember many times when I, with my brother Ron, cousin Iris, Aunty Ivy’s sons Charlie jnr. and Brian, and Aunt Carrie’s much younger twin sisters Eileen and Doreen, would sit under the table, eating corned beef sandwiches with pickled onions, whilst watching the dancing feet of the grown-ups. They all loved to sing, someone played the piano and everyone joined in. And so it would go on, till eventually at some point, I would wake up and find that to get to the outside toilet, I had to step carefully over all the sleeping bodies on the floor and in the chairs.

So, in January 1947, while I was still in the RAF, I decided to hitch a ride back from Herefordshire to go the party at Aunty Ivy’s prefab in Shooters Hill, south London. I remember passing through the Malvern Hills; I had never before seen such arctic conditions. Many of the houses had long icicles hanging from the roofs and down the sides of the walls, and when looking up, the sky and the roofs were the same whitish/grey colour, such that it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began.

Eventually, after various rides, I arrived in London and took a Southern Railway train to Welling where we lived.

Next morning, after more overnight snow, it looked as if the public transport buses would not be able to get up and over Shooters Hill. In those days very few people had a telephone, so it seemed that for us, at least, the party was off. Gran Waghorn would never manage the walk to Welling Corner in the amount of snow that had fallen, let alone the further four miles to the party venue.

After some thought, and a search in my father’s shed, I found some wood, brackets and enough nails to make a sledge, my plan being to fix onto the sledge a wooden chair that our Gran could sit on. With a length of rope washing line, I, brother Ron and our father could pull the sledge with Gran the passenger on it, and we would walk to the party.

It did not take long to complete the sledge. To make it slide easily I found a biscuit tin, and cut around the four sides to make two metal strips, about 1¼ins wide by 3ft long. These strips we nailed to the underside of the runners and the overlapping edges were hammered down each side of the two side members.

At the front of each side member we drilled a hole, through which we put a length of broom handle across the front and to which we tied on the three ropes for pulling the sledge.

Fortunately our Gran was quite a small person. The old wooden kitchen chair was not very heavy, and when it was screwed to the structure with brackets, and tied on with rope for additional safety, it looked as if the venture would be a success.

In having a test run out in the road the one point of concern was pulling the ropes. So with three lengths from what was left of the broom handle, the end of each rope was tied to the middle of each piece of the broom handle rod, which I thought would be a much more effective way to pull the sledge. One end of the rod could be held with one hand and the other rod end would be up against the pulling person’s waist.

A few more trial runs with brother Ron on the chair - and with smiles all round - we were full of confidence and raring to go. After a break for something to eat, the time came for our Gran to sally forth to the front gate, mount the chair - wrapped up in a blanket because it was cold - and with good wishes and waves from our next-door neighbours we started on our not-to-be forgotten, four-mile-plus, epic walk in the snow.

We soon realised with the pavement kerbstones, it would be better to walk in the road. Our feet made a sort of muffled ‘crump’ sound as we trod in the snow. At the time we were still rationed for many food items, which was why our Mum had to take some food to the party with us in a shopping bag.

By the time we got to Welling Corner our Gran was beginning to feel more relaxed. She was convinced at the start she was going to fall off, but with Mother and Father either side, each with a hand on her shoulder, and with many comments and laughter from well-wishers on the way, we made good progress.

I recall that it got harder to pull the higher we went up Shooters Hill, but between us we managed it.

I think Gran must have been quite cold sitting there, but I don’t remember her once complaining, she was not the complaining kind, quite the opposite. The rest of us on the other hand were warm from the effort involved.

Going down the other side of the hill was easier and quicker and there was much laughter, and I thought that Gran really enjoyed the first sledge ride she’d had for many years, if ever she had had one when she was a child.

The greeting and welcome when we arrived was quite extraordinary and made it so worthwhile. It was accepted that the weather was far too bad for anyone in their right minds to venture forth living local, and so they never ever expected those of us living in Welling - over four miles away - would walk it.

The party was a great success, the pianist at one point mistakenly thinking he had won the football pools. I cannot remember, however, how we returned to Welling on the Sunday or what happened to the sledge or the chair.