Kevin Garlick, a friend to many at Twydall Juniors and Upbury Manor Secondary School in the 60s, passed away on the 12th February, aged 68.
Twydall Junior School: Sixty years ago Kevin and I lined up together to return to class after playtime: he spoke; I spoke; we clicked. Thus began a lifelong friendship, not just for the two of us, but for Kev and my brothers.
Over the next couple of years Kevin and I spent countless hours playing, often with our toy soldiers at weekend; his army against mine, either in his front room or in his back garden at Waltham Road. These epic battles frequently spilled over from Saturday into Sunday and were taken very seriously, with prisoners buried up to their necks in the back garden with dabs of jam on their heads so the ants would get them.
Kevin and I were the original Fatty and Skinny. In the style of the Arabian Nights I’d greet with ‘Greetings oh Fat and Chubby One,’ to which he’d reply ‘Greetings oh Long and Lanky One.’
Kevin and I became blood brothers: after pricking our thumbs with a pin we locked them in a handshake and swore a solemn oath.
In Kevin’s front garden we once donned plastic helmets and fought each other with rolled up newspapers. When Kev called a halt and went inside I assumed he’d gone for a pee but when he returned he had an evil grin on his face. All became clear when he whacked me over the head I dropped like a sack of cement – inside his newspaper was a poker.
Kevin was a frequent and welcome visitor to our house on Crundale Road and became like one of the family. My Dad must have thought so too, because when Kev came to play after tea one summer evening, he got enlisted into weeding the back garden with the Lynch brothers for two hours.
Me, Kevin and Billy Hollands went scrumping cherries in the orchard on Pump Lane, 1965-ish. All was fine until an angry ‘Hoi!’ made us drop from the tree and scarper. Kevin – who’d never been known for sprinting – was halfway up Pump Lane before we caught up with him.
In 1966 we had to choose which secondary school we wished to attend. I was torn. Some of our classmates chose Rainham and some chose Napier Road but Clive Ward, Paul Parker, John Greenland and Kevin chose Upbury Manor and that tipped the scales for me. All five of us started at Upbury in September that year. Sadly, we lost Paul in February 2014 and Clive in December 2023.
Early in the first year(1966/67) Kev attracted the interest of second year Jenny Ballard. Kev, a chubby, wide eyed innocent wasn’t yet ready for female attention, so whenever Jenny approached him in the lower school playground, he ran off.
‘Come back, I only want to talk to you,’ Jenny called after him one day. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Ivan!’ shouted Kev as he fled.
Ironically, Kev would later develop a crush on Jenny at a time when she’d moved on and didn’t want to know. Such is life.
Kevin enjoyed Art, History, Science, Metalwork and Woodwork. He became a keen rugby player too, especially in the upper school when muscle displaced puppy fat and he was able to exact a measure of revenge on the twinkled-toed football types who’d previously run rings around him.
Kev loved to tell the story of when the crutch of his shorts got ripped out when playing rugby. Not a problem in itself but Kev wore nothing underneath, as a teammate discovered at the next scrum. The unfortunate teammate, playing number 8, had the job of binding the scrum by holding the inner thighs of the two lads in the second row. Fine, but when he felt Kevin’s sweaty plums on the back of his hand he let out a scream and recoiled in horror.
Whilst playing hockey in the fifth year Kevin suffered the misfortune of getting hit in the mouth with a hockey stick wielded by big Richard Pascall – an accident that cost Kev his two front teeth and left him needing a dental plate. The silver lining to this story is that as a young drinking man, Kev regularly left his false teeth floating in his beer when he went to the gents, to ensure nobody nicked his pint.
Though our lives took us in different directions a long time ago, my blood brother and I kept in touch. When he visited me in Bolton some years back I took him to see various places of interest. One of those places was Fred Dibnah’s house. Fred just happened to be on the roof tampering with a weather vane that day and being the genial chap he was, he took the trouble to come down and say hello and give us a few minutes of his time. This was deeply appreciated by Kev, who admired Fred, a humble man with a strong work ethic and a respect for tradition that Kev related to.
Kevin came from an engineering background but it was his involvement with historical re-enactment groups that led him into shoe making under the mentorship of an old shoemaker. Kevin took to it like he was born to it and for the next 30+ years, the shoes he made in a little shop on the Isle of Wight brought him international recognition. A dedicated craftsmen and valued member of his community, Ventnor claimed him as one of their own. Justifiably so but, lest we forget, Kev was ours first.
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