Putting the Boot in

In the boot of every car ever owned by the Thomson family you will find one or more of the following things. i) An old pair of mans pants- used but not too badly worn. ii) A bar of Kendal Mint Cake- well beyond the sell by date even for the last century. iii) A snow shovel- no sign of apparent use . iv) One drivers glove- the whereaboutsof the other being unknown v) Full set of replacement auto-bulbs vi) a lot of loose sea shells.

There is a certain prudency in the ready availability of items i) through to v).

Mans pants are durable and sturdy enough in the main part for longevity of service, even after a good few years actual use, as an oil dipstick cleaning cloth, general inside of windscreen cleaner and for that moment when a quick swipe and wipe  are just what is needed to alleviate the stress of maintaining a motor car.

In case of a rapid depletion of blood sugar levels the energy rich and sharply peppermint boost that comes from a bar of Kendal Mint Cake is just the tonic to get you home. As a normal purchase for consumption without any duress or mitigating cirumstances the bar is wholly unsatisfying. It causes a sugar-rush induced headache and, for those of a maturer age, a distinct ache amongst teeth enamel and fillings. However, under threat of being stranded in the usual amount of British winter or spring snowfall, or a vehicular breakdown mint cake comes into its own. Father always made sure there was some in the car at all times but not for eating.

The snow shovel may as well have been strapped to the mint cake such was the improbability of use of both.

A single drivers glove does not represent a disaster in either practical applications or fashion. It can still be useful when turning the starter handle of a Morris Minor or manhandling the products of travel sick youngsters from car to hedgerow.

The small plastic box, gawdy coloured for quick identification to the lower part and with a clear perspex hinged lid, containing a full set of bulbs for headlights, side lights, indicators and brake lights may have been provided with the car when brand new. My father was a great fan of VW's and such was their reliability of engine and frugality of other components that it was not at all surprising to find such a supply of bulbs still with the manufacturers or suppliers seal intact. That brings me to the loose sea shells.

Most of my childhood recollections of the long, always hot and sunny summer holidays and particularly the main fortnight family getaway was of beside the sea. I can remember most of the seaside towns and beaches or am reminded of others by a quick look through the array of photo albums if visiting mother. I think my near-drowning off a slippery slip way at about 4 years old was on the Isle of Wight. Up to the age of 10 I recall the Norfolk and Suffolk coasts, various stays in static caravans between the New Forest and the sea, a boarding house near Torquay. From age 10 we lived quite near the Lincolnshire coast with frequent trips to Cleethorpes, Skegness, Mablethorpe and Sutton on Sea. Further afield we camped on a clifftop on the west coast of Scotland and a short walk to the great beaches of Northumberland.

In all of these places I would make sure that I would return home with, ideally a bucket full of sea-shells or failing that some Tupperware container, plastic sandwich bag or as a last resort my own pockets. One child so depopulating a beach and rock pools of shells would not be seen as a threat to the environment. However, my siblings always did the same and so for each main holiday or day trip to the seaside our family alone could return with a good few pounds weight of shell booty.

It is not surprising that stray shells found their way into the far recesses of the car as they would be rattling and rolling about amongst the receptacles of, by the latter part of the day, a very sleepy set of children. The post-trip period would involve a tally of the assembled shells. Standard scallops, elongated razors, Mr Whippy cornet types, small winkles, mussel and conch- the latter was not at all native to Britain and would usually be a purchase from a sea front gift shop.

The novelty soon wore off and the shells, now a bit smelly from not being rinsed out, would be confined to a drawer or placed in the garden. Crafts did present an opportunity to use the shells to adorn plant pots and other vessels that had dared to be left out by parents. A decorated terracotta flower pot was always well received by grandparents or elderly relatives. The adhesion process was fun but very messy.

I seem to remember coating an otherwise perfectly good pot in thick gloopy plaster of paris or similar before pressing in a selection of sea shells. The finishing touch was a coat of varnish. The resulting gift was both useful and quite hazardous in terms of sharp edges. If there was still a good number of shells and cementatious  type substance left over then it was fair game to try to carry on the craft session covering anything not bolted down.

An item of great fascination to us children was a shell covered fire screen that one of our grandparents had made some years before. It was extremely heavy under the weight of the decorations and strained to stand upright in the hearth on its fashioned wooden feet. The varnish veneer had an age-worn hue and the shells were arranged by different type and expertly, in our considered opinion, by graduaded size.

I was reminded of the artistry of the screen only last week when it was displayed and sold at a car boot sale. It was immediately the subject of intense interest by a man in his 70's. He stood close scrutinising the workmanship. He lifted it up as though, like cash for gold, its worth was weight based. His wizened workmans hands caressed the now age bronzed mother of pearl. Eagerly he asked how much it was. I had no idea of monetary worth as opposed to the priceless nostalgic value. He offered £10 which for an early starting North Hull sale was unheard of in generosity. I was shocked enough to accept.

I apologised that a single shell was missing as I had knocked it off in a temper tantrum some 40 plus years earlier. He reassured me that I was not to worry as he had the exact perfect shell at home to restore it to its prime. Perhaps he had bought a car from our family in the last 50 years.