The Icky Wick Bowls Club

By Sandra Balchin

The Icky Wick Bowls Club invites you to join them at their private table known as the Gin Club Table, come and listen to hilarious tales of the past, or maybe witness the steamy night at The Vicars and Tarts party with a different story on every table. Travel to Ireland in the 60s with Molly and the gang as they cleverly remove marble fireplaces from a mansion in the wilds of Ireland and ship them off to the USA. Meet Micheal the renowned Irish raconteur singer/songwriter. Stay with Benny the septuagenarian gangster while he plans to bring his finest cannabis down from his factory in London filling up three golf bags, which he hides in the holiday coach carrying all the OAPs, to France. His journey with his wife Beryl, into and out of France with no passport, due to the fact he is on a lifetime ban from leaving the UK due to his criminal record.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398463097

Sandra Balchin

Sandra was born in Brixton South London. At the age of 23, she went to college in Portman Square where she qualified as an Aesthetician and Therapist, a career which led her to meet and work with many celebrities, such as Carrie Fisher-Debbie Reynolds-Sammy Davies Jnr-Marlene Dietrich to name but a few. In the late 70s she moved to East Sussex where she continued to run her very successful practise while always collecting a plethora of amusing stories. Sandra now lives with her husband Philip on the South Coast, where they both enjoy Bowls and Golf.

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About the Author

Sandra was born in Brixton South London. At the age of 23, she went to college in Portman Square where she qualified as an Aesthetician and Therapist, a career which led her to meet and work with many celebrities, such as Carrie Fisher- Debbie Reynolds-Sammy Davies Jnr-Marlene Dietrich to name but a few.

In the late 70s she moved to East Sussex where she continued to run her very successful practise while always collecting a plethora of amusing stories.

Sandra now lives with her husband Philip on the South Coast, where they both enjoy Bowls and Golf.

Dedication

For my husband, Philip, for his patience and love.

Copyright Information ©

Sandra Balchin 2023

The right of Sandra Balchin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398463080 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398463097 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Acknowledgement

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

Prologue

The Icky Wicks Bowls Club – situated on the southeast coast of England, built in the 1950s for the elite gentleman of this once fashionable Victorian seaside town, where once upon a time, ladies and gentleman of the Charleston set could be seen promenading – bygone days of wonderful cars – gentry and scandal. One had to be someone of position and high finance to be accepted as a member into this private club.

But now today in 2019, things are completely different.

The club now struggles to pay its way encouraging both men and women alike to join, with no care as to their own finances, or social standing, as long as you can pay the joining fees, you’re in.

The arrival of the Londoners mostly from the South London Area with the average starting age of 60 plus are a new breed of member, forming their Gin Club table, where no one seems to have any shame, when telling their stories from the past be they steamy or hilarious.

Amazingly, it seems that every other Londoner in the club, appears to know The Kray Twins – or rather boasting to this fact, or of ‘running with the Kray’s’ which was probably not true – but who is there to say otherwise – until one day three new members arrive, seizing the opportunity to use a coach trip to France for septuagenarian bowlers as a decoy for transporting cannabis across the channel.

Stories from the Gin Club

The sleek black Mercedes saloon with grey tinted windows drives slowly along the coast road, not that anybody would be interested in seeing the 75-year-old driver of the car but old habits are hard to let go of and Benny had a lot of old habits – always keeping to the speed limits-in just in case you get a Tug.

Sitting in the passenger seat beside Benny is his wife of 51 years, Beryl. Beryl worships Billy the same today as she did when she met him. She never had to actually work but has spent a lot of time waiting for Benny.

Beryl and Benny Pratchett are both South Londoner’s Born and Bred. Benny a hardened criminal all of his life – attending both Remands centres and Borstal in his youth. Then in the 1980s in Benny’s own words, he had been very unlucky to get caught in a notorious robbery for which he was sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment, and spent most of that sentence in Dartmoor prison.

But now he is going straight running a small porno bookshop with a manager of course. While Benny concentrated on his import-export business in drugs mostly back and forth across the channel.

Now don’t forget, Beryl. Not a word about our past. You’ve never worked – so that’s not a lie and I’ve been a motor trader in London all my life plus I like to dabble in the gold markets for a bit of fun – plus the old import-export business is of interest to me – ‘various commodities’ is what you say if they get nosey. Just say you don’t get involved in my business. Know what I mean, love?

Well, it’s true anyway. So tell me, Benny, what did this Lena actually say when you spoke to her about joining the club and learning to play Bowls?

Well, naturally I never let on that what we, or I should say I, really wanted was an off road parking space because we were looking for a beach front Pad – or that we might have the occasional dodgy motor visiting us, that could lead to very nasty repercussions if spotted plotted-up outside of OUR house. I simply said we wanted to learn to play bowls – now that I could no longer play golf cos of the old gout and it would be something we could do together. I told you, Beryl, she said anyone can learn – and we’re more than welcome to come along and according to the old Sat Nav we should be almost there. Yes, there you go, look.

The Icky Wick Bowls Club. Private Members Parking Only.

Beryl’s opening comments on seeing this Victorian building in desperate need of lots of repairs and TLC ‘it’s not very POSH’. Benny parks the Mercedes which is a statement piece in comparison to the dozen or so two door small engine cars parked neatly against the fence.

Know what, girl? he says looking at Beryl. There ain’t a motor here with an engine bigger than our last ride on mower. To this, Beryl gives him a loving shove.

No, maybe not but our lawn never looked like that, says Beryl pointing to the fabulous outdoor six rink grass bowling green.

Okay, girl, let’s go and see what goes on in ’ere; we’ve to meet the membership secretary. I think she said her name was Lena.

Benny and Beryl are always well dressed…very smart was the term…maybe a bit outdated due to the fact that the clothes they had bought were always expensive – especially in the ’80s and ’90s when money was no object choosing labels like Burberry and Aquascutum. Beryl was always making sure that if she was wearing a scarf, she would arrange it to show the label in a predominant place – sure to be seen.

So, they felt very confident walking into the not so posh looking club. On entering the club immediately in front of them was a grubby looking staircase which led to a door with a big red sign stating GENTS. Beryl gives Benny a quick glance. Oh nice.

Shush, says Benny, pointing to some double doors to their left, pushing them open at the same time.

They were now faced with a very large clubhouse with a vaulted ceiling and big brown beams with masses of tiny flags hanging from them, six wooden tables were laid three aside down the centre of the room with eight chairs placed around them honours boards took up most of the wall space and then at the far end of the room was the most unusual looking bar. As Beryl set eyes on the bar, the first thing she thought of was the stage of The Punch and Judy set at Southend – On-Sea, vivid in her mind from her childhood. The bar surround was scalloped like a pretend curtain only it was wood, painted in an old-fashioned red colour set off against a cream backdrop, it was all so old fashioned. Sitting at one of the tables in front of the bar were seated six or seven people. One of the woman on spotting Beryl and Benny jumped out of her chair and with a big smile on her face came rushing forward. Beryl sized her up in a flash – 5ft tall about 70 with and abnormally huge bum and hips, especially in comparison to the flat chested top half…this made Beryl feel good. Any female that would not catch Benny’s eye was okay in Beryl’s book.

Hello, hello. I’m Lena and you must be Benny and Beryl Pratchett, saying this her smile is focused on Benny. Benny even with his shock of thick white hair and the cut of his expensive suit made it easy to see from his stature he must still be in good physical shape, which in fact he was having worked out rigorously for ten years on the moor and now using the punch bag in his garage every morning, he knew full well that in his profession remaining fit and able to handle yourself was of the utmost importance. Am I right?

Yeah, that’s us. I’m Benny and this is my world, Beryl. Pleased to meet you, Lena. This is all a bit new to new us.

With her arms wide open, Lena more or less scoops them up and steers them down towards the bar, talking as she goes. These are some of our members, she’s saying with a sweeping gesture towards the people sitting in front of the bar. This is received with various tones of Hi and Hellos. Now before we start, first things, first. Most important, can I get you both a drink? Without waiting for an answer, she continues to talk. Now apart from being the membership secretary, I also help run the bar. I’m not the bar manager, which will be our handsome chappie here, she says pointing to a man wearing dark rimmed spectacles. Meet our wonderful Roger Prodder.

Roger lifts his hand in a kind of wave. ’Allo, says the Yorkshire accent. ’Ave you cum to join the mad ’ouse? If you ’ave, the very least I can do is buy you a drink – won’t cost you a penny call it on the ’ouse – what will it be. Benny wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but a group of septuagenarians surrounded by empty and full glasses at 12.30 in the day was not one of them. Roger walks through a small kitchen and appears behind the bar. What will it be, squire?

Benny not wanting to look unsociable, answerers with ‘half a bitter please’. And what about your good lady?

Beryl gives Benny a quick glance before saying, Oh, G and T will be lovely thank you.

Well, shall we make that a club G and T? says Roger. Before Beryl could answer, a shriek comes from the table.

Beryl turns to see face a round red faced woman with tight curly salt and pepper coloured hair raise her glass and say, Oh go on, Roger. Is The Pope Catholic?

Roger says, This is Pearl. Pearl Caster. What’s she referring to is, we serve a single shot of Gin for £1.50 or a house Gin for £2.00 which is actually a double, so everyone has a house gin. Pearl waving her glass around in the air (a silent signal to Roger for a refill). Carries on, That’s right and that’s my old man over there, the one that can hardly breath who keeps banging his chest. He’s known as Dobby. His proper name is Donald, but he’s always been called Dobby. Can’t change it now, not with dementia an all. If we started to call him Donald, he wouldn’t know we were talking to him. Would we, Dobby? Then the next thing is he’d find himself in one of those homes. Cos that’s what happens, you know you read about it all the time you do.

Pearl has not stopped for breath; taking another big swig of her fresh drink, she continues, It’s like a friend of mine. She did her normal food shop, brought the shopping home, as usual her husband helps her to put it all away. Later that evening, she’s about to cook the evening meal and can’t find the lamb chops. Anyway, she says I know I bought four lovely lamb chops but I can’t find them. Well, she looks everywhere. She goes through the kitchen pedal bin looking for the receipt, which as you might guess she can’t find – tips everything out of her handbag looking for it, but bleeding obvious when you want something – you can never find it. Anyway, she’s now convinced herself she never bought any lamb chops. Well about a week later, there’s a terrible stink in the house, so the poor woman goes hunting high and low, and sure enough she finds the four lamb chops stuck behind the Telly. Yes, would you believe? The husband’s off into a home before you can say Jack Robinson, so you can’t just change someone name. That’s my point.

The group at the table talk and laugh between themselves while Lena pulls her chair up to sit beside Benny and Beryl.

Well, what do you both think so far? We’re a really friendly club as you can see, and all it calls for is to fill out two application forms…I can sponsor you both then they stay on the notice board for a week. That’s just protocol. It gives any one a chance to refuse you.

Refuse us? snaps Beryl. No one even knows us. What right has anyone got to bleeding refuse?

Benny jumps in realising that the G and T is hitting Beryl. No, no, love, that’s not what Lena is saying. What she means is it’s like the golf club where you have to go before a committee to be accepted, but here it just goes on the wall. I mean, they don’t know us, we could be two undesirables, this is a very elite club. Isn’t that right, Lena? They can’t be letting any old Joe Blogs in here.

You’re absolutely right, Benny, says Lena. How about we fill the forms in now, then put them up on the board, then if you like you could come back tomorrow – Wednesday – and meet our coach, Ethel. She will run through the equipment you need – we always have shoes. You can borrow and we have lots of woods for you to use. If either of you suffer with a bad back, we have a few lifters.

What’s a lifter? asks Benny.

Well, it’s metal about 18 inches high and you can pick your bowls up with it, saves bending down.

Benny, pleased with all of this, agrees that they will be back tomorrow at 12.30 and both say ‘cheerio’ to everyone.

The following day, Benny and Beryl are back at The Icky Wick Bowls Club. On pulling into the car park, Benny instantly spots a different type of car than anything that was parked here yesterday. This was not a little bread and butter motor. Parked at the very end of the parking lot was a brand-new white Porsche 4x4. That’s a tasty looking motor, Benny remarks.

Ethel Watt, the club coach, is inside the club room waiting for them to arrive – Ethel greets them with more gushing hellos and smiles. Hello, Benny, Beryl, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Ethel Watt club coach. I believe you had your introduction to The Famous Gin Club yesterday – not sure if I would want that to be my first impression but there you go, none of us are alike – I’m pleased to say – and you met with Lena the oracle of our club – whatever you want to know – good or bad just ask Lena – and was she staring into the dark rimmed spectacles of wonderful Roger Prodder.

While Ethel is saying all of this, it’s easy for both Benny and Beryl to tell Lena is not her favourite friend, and Benny has been pressing his hand into Beryl’s back to let her know that he’s picked up this fact and not say anything just listen. Yes, we met a few of the members yesterday. They seemed a nice crowd, says Benny.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. We truly are such a friendly club. I’m sure you’re going to have a wonderful time here with all of our lovely members, Ethel says quickly.

Now let’s get you sorted with some shoes. What have we got here in the shoe box?

Ethel pulls out a big old cardboard box full of brown or grey flat shoes, Beryl thinks how horrible and old fashioned they look.

What size are you, Beryl?

Three or four, replies Beryl.

Oh, I don’t think we have anything that small.

Great, thinks Beryl.

What about you, Benny?

Nine, replies Benny.

I’m sure we have something to fit you. Have a little look in this box and see if you can find a pair for yourself. If you think you’re going to take up bowls, you can buy yourself lovely new ones. Benny feels that he’s being spoken to like a child, not a hardened criminal and as he looks through this box of old shoes, Ethel is continuing talking in the same vein.

I’m sure you’re both going to love it. It’s so easy. It’s such fun and I know you’ll both be brilliant. How are you getting on, Benny? Any luck? Benny has had enough rummaging through this box of unsavoury footwear and chooses a pair of grey slip-on shoes holding them up to declare he has.

Benny is not happy wearing someone else’s shoes but is staying positive as to the main reason they are joining the club in the first place so it’s okay for now. Good. Now don’t worry, Beryl, you can just play in your bare feet just for today and then if you decide to take up the game, you can both buy some nice new smart shoes.

Oh, no fear about that, Ethel. If me and Benny are going to take it up after today, we’ll be out shopping in the morning and buy the best money can buy, won’t we, Benny?

Ha ha yes, well I’ve got no doubt about that, says Ethel walking towards the double doors. Come on, let me show you the indoor rink upstairs.

Later, they learn that Ethel had been head of a junior school for 25 years before retiring, which is obviously the reason she speaks to everyone as if they are five years old. In fact, she even speaks to people like that while she is coaching.

Benny and Beryl follow Ethel out of the double doors and up the short flight of stairs. Ethel making a quick comment to the fact the men’s and ladies’ toilets were on the left, which was plain to see anyway – another set of double doors face them with viewing windows in each door.

On entering the indoor rink, Ethel explains the that the size of the rink is 10 metres wide by 35 metres long. Looking down the rink, they see that in fact split into two playing rinks, a red fitted carpet walk way running down each side with seats at both ends for viewing, the emerald green carpet on the rink is high in the ceiling two banks of tubular LED lights illuminate the rink.

Gorblimey, you wouldn’t expect this was here, would you? When you look at the place from the outside – it’s a bit impressive – I can’t wait to have a go, says Benny.

Amazing. I just hope we can do it, says Beryl.

Okay then I’ve found some woods for both of you. Here’s a size 0 for Beryl and a size 3 for you, Benny, says Ethel placing them on the rink. Here you are, Beryl; yours are these rather nice red woods and yours are the brown ones, Benny, and this small yellow ball is called The Jack. Jacks also come in white but you don’t need to know about that today. I’ll just run down the rink and place the Jack on the T so we can start. Ethel takes off down the rink at a fast walk.

What do you think, love? asks Benny.

Oh, I just hope I don’t make a proper Nanna of myself.

Don’t worry, Beryl, think of the bigger picture. Beryl gives him a curious look.

Ethel proceeds to coach them explaining about how the bias sends it one way or the other, congratulating them even when they send it across the other rink into the ditch, sending wood after wood into the same ditch, still talking to them like children but despite all of this, they are clearly enjoying themselves and the hour soon passes.

Well, what do you think? asks Ethel. They both answer with great enthusiasm saying it’s great fun and they definitely want to sign up for regular coaching lessons.

Benny says, It must be great to play the game – like you see on the telly.

Well, says Ethel, we have a few national and county players at this club in fact Sebastian Gilliwee. One – if not our best club player – is playing in a triples final here this afternoon. At 3.00, they will be arriving soon but you’re more than welcome to watch. I’m sure it will be a very exciting game. The ladies will be downstairs now setting all the tables up, making sandwiches for the tea.

I would love to watch, says Benny, but we have to get some lunch.

What about you, Beryl?

Well, I’m happy staying to watch but right now my tummy is rumbling. Ethel looks elated as she tells them both, Let’s go downstairs. I’m sure the ladies can sort that out for you with bacon rolls, sausage rolls and sandwiches all made by their own fair hands. Back in the club house, the smell of bacon cooking wafts through the room, the tables are all laid with coloured table cloths and various napkins and plates. There is now a hatch which has been lifted so you can see through into the kitchen – bright signs have been made showing the prices of the food on offer bacon roll £1.50 various sandwiches £2.00 an array of homemade cakes and scones all for 50p each or per slice.

Oh, this is brilliant, says Benny, just my type of food. Ethel introduces them to Shirley and Phyllis two cheerful white-haired ladies wearing multi coloured tabards.

Ethel once again delighted to be the host and showing the new prospective member’s around does the introductions saying, So, Benny and Beryl would love to sample some of your delicious lunch ideas on offer, ladies.

How about a hot homemade sausage roll that I’m just taking out of the oven alongside a crispy bacon sandwich to be getting on with and a good cup of tea, that could be a cup or a mug, says a voice from inside the kitchen.

Sounds great, say Benny and Beryl in unison. They sit themselves at one of the laid tables, with this great lunch spread before them knowing the whole lunch even with a slice of cake won’t come to a fiver each. No wonder they’re broke, thinks Benny.

Men are starting to arrive – far younger looking than the members they have seen so far at the club – but then thinks Benny the guys on the telly are not old maybe they are not all old here either. All of the men are wearing long white cricket style trousers, with their different club sports shirts basically white but one style is in blue and yellow finish on collars and cuffs while the other is dark red and yellow motifs. Ethel comes to join them at the table explaining these are the two county teams – today they are playing a triples game, they will be playing on both rinks, so a triples game is three men in a team playing with three woods each…so that’s six men on each rink twelve players altogether – they have four extra men as reserves.

Ah, that’s our best player. I mentioned him earlier, Sebastian Gilliwee, says Ethel. He’s a brilliant player and he knows it.

All serious stuff then, says Benny.

I should say it’s life or death to them make no mistake about that, says Ethel.

We can go up to the rink now if you have finished your lunch – we need some time to get seated and you may want to use the facilities – because it’s a bit difficult coming and going once the game has started, they like quiet while they’re playing. Some visitors will be seated already, and I’m sure we’ll have quite a few spectators here today, says Ethel.

Benny and Beryl find comfortable seats on the left-hand side of the rink they recognise Lena and Roger from yesterday – waves and silent hellos are exchanged.

An official wearing a navy-blue jacket with various metal badges covering both of his jacket lapels, steps onto the green and welcomes everyone to the day thanking players and visitors alike. Six men go to the left and six to the right of the green, they shake hands and introduce themselves by name signing off with ‘have a good game’. Two men known as skips walk down to the far end of the rink, and the game begins. Benny is in awe at the skill the players have, to be able to send their woods down the green and make it