The Forbidden Island

by Tom Mason 

Our nearest park was the Swanswell, and when the fit was on us we haunted the place for days. Our approach was from Cox Street, so the first thing we saw was the boathouse which housed the punt actually in use. The next attraction was the waterfall where the lake overflowed. Having watched a while we would run to the facing railings and see where the water overflowed into the brook. Here was a real waterfall. The brook plunged over a sheer drop of about three feet, then darted down a dark tunnel in the direction of the street. Both waterfalls were well guarded by railings, as was the whole run of the brook, to our regret.

Our next port of call was the drinking fountain where water issued from a lion's mouth. Usually an iron cup on a chain was available - not very hygienic, but we came to no harm. 

In our early days the lake had not its neat stone edging. Instead it was lined with timber to retain the asphalt path. In many places the wood had rotted and the path had caved in, forming little bays which made good harbours for our boats. They were also well stocked with water snails which we gathered for the sheer sake of gathering them, then having no use for them, we put them back.

Sometimes we'd visit the rustic bridge, where we had the usual races with match sticks or leaves. The area where the brook emerged was railed off and inaccessible. Within the railed off area was an old gun probably of the Crimean War period. This brings us to the far side of the lake. There were no swings or amusements in my early days. Where they are now was only a rather gloomy corner, backing onto an old dispensary. Right in the corner was an old willow, hollow on one side, which we called the squirrel tree. We always looked but we never saw a squirrel.

The island was always a feature of interest. Being quite unattainable enhanced its attraction. The ruins in the middle always intrigued us, and, of course there was a secret passage there. When the paddle boats were introduced we could get quite close to the island, but there was never a chance of landing; the eagle-eyed park-keepers always shouted and waved us away whenever we got too close.

When the new stone surround was put in the pond had to be drained sufficiently for the work to be carried out, and this left several feet of dry land around the edge. It was sheer bliss to walk on the border of dried mud where never foot had trod before. The island stood up very high above the surface, and the ducks' home, which before seemed to float on the surface, now stood far above it on stilts. How we explored! The receding tide left high and dry some oyster like shellfish with gruesome yellow insides which we had never seen before. At one place we found some old revolver bullets which we tried to explode, fortunately without success.

Usually we returned home the way we had came, but sometimes we went back along White Street. There were one or two items of interest along here. In the water was a round iron contraption covered with perforated metal., its purpose a mystery. Further along still, not far from the boat house, a pipe below water-level discharged warm water from the flour mills across the road. Here we could see quite large fish swimming to face the flow.

The Swanswell Tavern of our day, say 75 years ago, was the rendezvous of anglers, pigeon fanciers, machinists and other people who made their living in Hillfields. A paper such as the Standard or the Times could be borrowed from the Swanswell Tavern where the men played table nine pins.

Reproduced with kind permission of the Hillfields History Group. This story was first published in a publication by the group called Hillfields in their Own Words.

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This page was last updated 29/03/03