In 1949 I experienced my biggest adventure. Twenty years old I joined the WREN'S after much concern from the Navy's side about the shape of my toes and my ability to march, but march I must, in an effort to get away from my surroundings and travel the world. Stationed in a training camp at Burford, Reading, Surrey, I happily donned the smartest looking uniform, destination, Northern Ireland.

I couldn't wait to get there, Eglinton bound. Here I met my best friend Olive and with every given opportunity we jumped on our yellow and black bikes, defied the rules and cycled over the border, even venturing into the big city - Londonderry - Derry. Other memorable moments were the visits to the military ballroom- Benbow's, The Station Cinema and last but not least "The Happy Landing Pub" as it was known then, and despite many name changes, is also known now. Fifty five years later it was time to revisit those memories, refresh warm pictures of Olive Force, who sadly passed away in the late 1950's, and remember my youth.

22nd July 2004

Leave Kent for a five day trip around Ireland, black and white photographs in hand.

26th July 2004

The road from Drogheda through Omagh to Londonderry is still a rural one until arriving in the big city, where I spot a sign clearly pointing the way to Eglinton - 6 miles. There I find a little village with no obvious signs of a navy base, although Derry airport still looms not far away, at the bottom of rolling hills, set tight up against the coastline. Up and down the road a few times with no signs of my past, I eventually stop at the " Happy Landing" pub. The girl behind the bar doesn't know the answer to any of my questions , but thankfully a large red faced man comes to the rescue. Colum  Curran, sixty eight years old, tells me of his father who repaired Navy bikes, the very bikes we used to get around on! A widower who's son was killed in a car crash just six weeks ago, he offers to show me all the places from my past, once he's finished the pint he ordered and the pint I ordered him. Cramming him into the car, we barely leave the village heading south, when he points to the gates of a recycling plant. Hidden behind them, our barracks!!!!! Some are renovated, the Benbow ballroom now a snooker hall, nestling amidst a layout exactly as I recall it, memories of the officer I met at the "Happy Landing" flooding back. He invited me to the cinema, a date I never forgot because the next day I developed nits in my hair, caused by him rubbing his hair against mine, and needless to say i never saw him again. We wave goodbye to the barracks and lovers lane way up upon the hill behind the base, Colum scratching his head and laughing furiously as if infected, whilst trying to direct us to an overgrown field.

The landowner points along a muddy path and we drive into the unknown, past huge second world war rusting buildings, derelict cars, one of which is his son's, until we are forced to stop behind a parked van. Every worn out building looks the same as we walk by, until we spot a taller building, weather worn, with barely readable letters etched across the front wall. "The Station Cinema", worn and decaying, but with the projectionists room still in tact, a side door to the ladies loo still attached to rusting hinges.

Memories of over fifty years ago rush back to my head as if it had all happened yesterday. Onwards to the Rising Sun pub for a pint, where Colum reminds me of the seven people shot dead by terrorists in the early nineties, a plaque on the wall proving his words. He  now digs graves at the local cemetory, is very matter of fact about both his wife's, his son's and the innocent victims deaths, and about time, of which I have little if I'm to get back to Derry, find the war memorial depicted in the faded photograph before me of Olive and myself.

The sun sets as I walk the walls of Derry, glimpsing the Bogside and a perfect wall mural of Bernadette Devlin, expressing a feeling of eeriness when an unconscious turn to left reveals a street, a huge monument very visible at the end of it, a near certain realisation that this must be the monument I thought I wouldn't find, compelling me to leave the wall and head towards it. The Diamond, four streets leading away from it, the square in the middle supporting a war memorial that hasn't changed since 1949,  matches the photograph I hold up before it perfectly! Both of us smiling in summer dresses, myself on the fourth step and Olive just below me. A miracle just to find this place once again, all within 20 minutes of arriving in the city and with no name to go on. The camera flashes again and again as I try to stand as I stood then, afraid that it won't capture the moment, a series of "What ifs" finally giving way to the acceptance of the choices I've made and the joy of the moment.

Today has been a brilliant day that will live as long in my memory as my first youthful encounters of it. If you are reading this - if it has provoked the same bitter memories of times lost but not forgotton about Eglington, Northern Ireland - if you remember me, Doris Lambert (Formerly Bale) or Nancy from Jersey,  Lily, or Olive Force (Maiden name unknown), or if you had a thick mop of hair infested with nits, please send me an e-mail. I would be delighted to hear from you and share in your memories.

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Email: grahamal2003@yahoo.co.uk - crescentmoon39@msn.com. Web Address: www.onestarcrescentmoon.com. Postal Address: Graham Lambert, 21 Rivercourt, Rathmullen Road, Drogheda, County Louth, Republic of Ireland.Telephone: 00353 (0) 41 98 463 89.