When i was 7, 8, 9 i knocked around with these 2 brothers who lived in a Working Men s Club. At the back of this club was a bowling green. It was a thing of absolute beauty, looked after by an old bloke called Mr Shaw. This was about 72, 73, 74. Mr Shaw was a bit of a nasty fucker to us, not friendly anyway, but I always felt sorry for him. His wife never left the flat they lived in, their daughter had been killed in a factory fire in 1941 along with nearly 50 others, she was 13 or 14 at the time, as were a lot who died. (Their flat overlooked the bowling green)
His life was making sure his missus was okay and the bowling green was top notch.
Anyway one day we asked some lads from down the road to play football (they had a ball). Plan was meet at the back of the club and go to some fields to play. These 5 turned up and came in the back way, where the bowling green was. I`ll never forget the lad with the ball saying "Wow, this is fucking ace", kicked the ball onto the bowling green and jumped the little chain fence and ran after the ball.
Me and the two brothers screamed "NO, GET OFF OF THERE NOW"
He got off sharpish looking totally confused and us 3 immediately stared at Mr Shaw s flat window, but for once he must have been out buying grass seed and not keeping a beady eye on the bowling green.
Anytime anyone mentions bowling i age about 10 years.