Extract from Dave's autobiography

Aged 16 working on SEGAS at Eastbourne, Sussex.......

'Gas actually was remarkably difficult to get ablaze although we did get some success in the summer that year, on one of the roads full of guest houses running parallel to the seafront the mains gang had been digging a trench in search of a reported gas leak. They must have found it ok as the whole road was like a giant burner set on low with a dim blue flame spread across the surface melting what tarmac that hadn’t already succumbed to the searing sunlight. It was quite difficult to see in the bright light, hence the lack of panic amongst the civilian population. Reaction amongst the highly trained SEGAS squad was sanguine as they leant on their shovels contemplating lunchtime. Finally I was despatched to give word to the fire brigade, by bike of course, nothing rushed remember. I arrived at the Fire Station near the Unigate dairy. The brigade of course leapt at the opportunity to produce their immaculate fleet with lights flashing and bells ringing but were somewhat stymied as they had to follow along behind me on my push bike to show them where it was. To be fair the distance wasn’t that great and barring a ripple of explosion through the mains around Eastbourne no one seemed to foresee any particular danger and the brigade stood by as lunch time butties were finished and some denso tape wrapped around the erring joint.

Smaller leaks were often discovered, sometimes as a result of a tiny gas bill, say by a pub like our own Martello Inn in Langney where the only gas was the emergency lighting. Locating this was troublesome as a bill of say 6d would involve a very small volume of gas perhaps not even detected by the keenest nose. The instrument which measured it was a U tube of glass fitted to a white background mounted in a black metal sliding case, a rubber tube lead from one end and was attached to the gas supply, pressure was released which would push the water around the U bend, the supply was then turned off, any drop in pressure through a leak could be detected as the water would gradually equalise. A great theory but as with yet another case, and yet another pub, the Alexander Arms near the Rec on Seaside, it was a near impossible task. An old hotel with fabulous wrought iron balcony’s and original tinted glass and colourer tile work, amongst the many rooms some small gas loss was occurring, joints were plastered with paste willy nilly but amongst acres of tiny old lead tubes it was needle in a haystack work.

I think the teasing of apprentices by fitters is standard and what more nerve jangling subject for young lads than their love lives, there’re wasn’t one of course and that made it even worse! The taunts and teases thought of the fitters weren’t meant in any malevolent way but the troubles with the other lads at tech were much more menacing. My time at the grammar school has resulted in a rather tweaky little posh accent which must have grated amongst the Sussex drawl which ranged from outlandish Germanic Battle to estuarine Brighton. Whatever the cause the result next year saw me flung on the rails at Brighton Station (remember the ones pulsating with mega electric voltage).Lets stay in happier times though, Brighton was full of watering holes, one off Old Steine was popular with youngsters and had built in rodents to boot, sometimes in hot weather we’d drink down near the beach, I think there was a bar under the colonnades. I rode over on my moped, ok in fine weather but a nightmare in the wet, Marion had a small moped but she had a nasty tumble which put paid to her motorcycle career, I remember it had a big basket for shopping on front, she wore a white helmet in fake leather with a peak.

The skills taught at the Gas Board Technological college sound very much like the makings of a comic novel, Blot on the Gas Board perhaps. Wiping joints involved mole skins folded into a pad which neatly fitted into your hand, this you use to wipe molten metal around lead pipes often in ludicrously difficult locations and with skill and luck perform a gas tight joint. Other attributes included all manner of copper pipes bent to order, mangled and wrecked, flux in your hair and jointing paste under your nails this was used with steel pipes . The steel pipes came finished in black in random lengths which would need to be cut to dimension, usually on the pavement outside the customer’s house. In sunshine this was pleasant enough; any inexactness was usually made up for by an even more liberal application of the jointing compound or paste and a good old fashioned heave - together with a mangle with the adjustable wrench or ‘grip’ as it was known.

The main attributes for a gas fitter were not taught at college, the ability to accept offers of unlimited teas and eat copious amounts of biscuits, to balance precariously the fitter’s canvas tool bag with weighty contents on the push bike handlebars and to idle time way between jobs. A motorcycle was I soon realised not considered fair game, called upon to collect a missing fitting or part I would dart off back to the stores just off Terminus Rd and return all too quickly, no a push bike was the more desired rate of progress and allowed the fitter to spend time on customer relations. Water geysers still bubbled and belched, Ascots and the like, over most sinks, central heating boilers a delicate area of expertise in more wealthy properties. '

hope you enjoyed this extract, I'm working on page 400 plus!
Dave