Heritage Commercials Magazine - capturing the spirit of vintage days

Transport memories - For auld lang syne

Sadly, there are few real transport cafes left in Britain, as they have been replaced by fast food joints and expensive motorway service areas where your money is welcome but your lorry is not! If the motorway services companies thought they could get away with it, I’m sure lorries would be banned altogether to make more room for cars and coaches.

Just recently, as I passed what used to be the site of the sadly missed Moss Cafe at Todhills, near Carlisle, it crossed my mind just how many of the old welcoming establishments for lorry drivers had disappeared.

On the A74 alone the following have gone the way of the Moss Cafe: The Neuk, London Road, Carmyle, Glasgow (I stopped there recently, reminiscing about the many times I had been in there), Treefield Cafe, Kirkmuirhill, Elvanfoot Cafe, Crawford, Coatsgate Cafe, Beattock, Kirtlebridge Cafe, Kirtlebridge, Rosebank Cafe, Gretna and the Millburn Cafe, Kingstown, Carlisle.

All were busy places in their day.

South of Carlisle there was the Jungle at Shap; Dirty Dicks at Garstang – was that really its name? Another was the Stainmore Cafe on the A66. On one occasion, while working with Smith of Maddiston, I thought that they had come to get me at Stainmore – you know, them aliens! But that’s a story for another day!

In the days before sleeper cabs, like most drivers of the time, I used to carry the drivers wee red book, the Transport Driver’s Pocket Guide, full of cafes and digs. I still have one but sadly it’s a bit tatty. However, the purchase of this book was no guarantee that the places listed were clean.

I remember booking a bed in the Astro Cafe at Speke, Liverpool – only once. It claimed clean beds and plenty of parking, my recollections are different, and the ‘plenty of parking’ was in the street – “Don’t forget to put your lights on driver or the police will book you.” I suppose flat batteries were not uncommon round there. The beds were crammed in tight with no space between them; they were also full of Irishmen who were working at a tunnel building site in the ’Pool. I was wakened early the next morning by one of these guys standing on the end of his bed urinating on the floor before getting back under his covers to sleep again. I stayed the next night at the Salvation Army hostel in Warrington, excellent digs – clean, tidy and with good food. I wouldn’t have gone back to The Astro if THEY had paid ME!

At nearby Garston there were other digs on the site of the old Garston Bottle works.

These were clean, warm and the food was good too. The drawback was if you went out, in the winter, on your return the area was in pitch black darkness.

I had no complaints, though one of my fellow Scots had.

He worked for Saddlers Transport of Edinburgh, based at its Wrexham depot. He was washing himself when he received an electric shock. On complaining to the owner, it was pointed out to him that if he had removed his working boots the metal studs on them would not have earthed and given him the shock. A lot of the Ackworth Transport boys from Yorkshire stayed there as well.

The Sally Army also had a hostel in Liverpool. The problem with the place was outside. Parking was on spare ground nearby, overrun with enterprising scouse kids who would offer to ‘Watch your motor, mister’. For a small fee of course. The problem arose when there was more than one group of them and if you favoured one group over the other it was a dead cert you would come out the next morning to a damaged lorry or slashed sheets. Unless you spent money lavishly it was better to go out to Warrington for the night and park in safety and return next day to Liverpool if you had to. This problem was not unique to Liverpool, as many of my contemporaries will testify. Bellinghams, St Lawrence Rd, Newcastle-on-Tyne, at the side of the Tyne Bridge was a very convenient stop and very clean, as was the Sunset Cafe at Penkridge, Staffs. Plenty of parking and good facilities haven’t been that way in years but they tell me it’s housing now.

London was a place that had its fair share of grotty digs – I remember Brays in Aldgate and I am sure I was once in another place they had in Liverpool Rd. I also remember staying in a place at Wembley Stadium that went by the name of The Sunset Strip. During the night we were treated to a march past by all (well, it seemed like all) the cockroaches in west London. I didn’t bother to wait for breakfast there.

If possible, I preferred to park up on the outskirts of London in places like the Bell Bar at Hatfield or the Four Oaks at Rainham – cleaner than most of the places in the smoke.

Elsewhere, private houses were often very good value for money – digs such as Mrs Clay on Quinton Rd, Coventry. When I booked into Mrs Clay’s, I parked nearby in what by day was a car park. At night it also accommodated coaches and lorries. I drove in one night with a 60-foot trailer. The ‘guardian’ was a bloke who was not known for his good humour. He said to me: “That’ll be £2.” I pointed out the sign that said ‘Parking overnight, lorries & coaches, £1.’ He did not like that, “That’s extra long so it’s £2. I don’t make the rules; it’s not my bloody country!” To which I replied: “It’s not mine either, so here’s a pound. If you don’t like it, sue me!”

Mrs Woodhouse of Euston Grove, Morecambe and Ma Shepherd (she was Ma to everyone) of Penrith. She had two houses, if you were in the ‘other one’ you made your own breakfast from the food she provided. One of the guys I worked with was from Stornoway, Lewis. Benny was ‘careful’ with his money and he used to make up his sandwiches for the rest of the week if he was fortunate enough to have stayed in the ‘other one’. You may have heard of the Scottish saying “Ye canna’ tak the breeks aff a Heilan’ man!” Benny was a fine example of that philosophy.

Another source of digs was Headlight magazine, now also sadly gone. This was also a source of return loads if you worked for a company that relied on the drivers to get a load home. One of the bosses that I worked for used to complain if the rate wasn’t good enough. My philosophy was, if he couldn’t be bothered to look for return loads for his drivers then I just took a load home to Glasgow and if the rate wasn’t good enough tough!

Like many others I was a member of The Headlight Drivers’ Association and wore my badge with pride. I’ve still got it along with a badge of The Scottish Horse and Motormen’s Association. I joined the union at 15 and I wore that badge with pride too. Sadly, like many of the cafes, the union is no more, having gone through a name change. Finally amalgamating with the T&G, it disappeared into the mists of time along with many of the firms that were household names in transport – Smith of Maddiston, Russell of Bathgate, Allison’s of Dundee, J&R Wright of Glasgow, Charles Alexander of Aberdeen, Claben of Aberdeen.

I remember seeing a poem written on the toilet walls at the Haven Cafe, Doncaster, which went along the lines of ‘Down the glen came the Claben men, Half of them were time served men, The rest were F****** chancers!’

Maybe someone out there remembers it and can tell us the rest of the words?

I’m sure the ghosts of the Knights of the Road still run up the old A74, flashing their ghostly lights in the time honoured fashion, sadly replaced now by those who play with their indicators!

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o’ lang syne?”  Robert Burns.

Words: Alex Saville Photography: Alex Saville/Peter J Davies Collection