FROM THE ARCHIVE

POLICING ~ THE LAST CENTURY

A Glimpse, But Yesterday

February 2026

Liverpool ~ 2008
Banner Image is my father Desmond B Webb, Traffic Inspector, Bamfurlong Traffic Division 1983

Page I

This was written on at 7.45am 28 December 2014 upstairs in Starbucks overlooking Boots Corner, Cheltenham.

Page II

Well, today finds me enjoying a verrry early morning coffee on the first floor and looking down upon what is known as Boots Corner in my old hometown. Boots Still Stands there.

Nothing apparently changes. Time passes, people age, but everything remains untouched. That which humankind makes, outlives humankind, outpaces and carries on as the hands that fashioned it slip beyond the veil.

The created outlives its creator.

For me, Boots Corner is important in that it was not only the centre of Cheltenham, but also the central beat point at which old fashioned policing required me to Stand for a minimum 20 minutes, sentry like, observing the four roads with which it interconnected ~ High Street to my left, Lower High Street to my right, Clarence Street - North Street behind me and the beautiful Regency Promenade ahead of me long before pedestrianisation. Precincts miss the busyness of the four roads of traffic that were incessant and, on very busy days - morning or evening rush hour ~ quietly slipping on the white arm bands that Stretch from elbow to black gloves and then those tentative Steps of genteel authority “oh mummy he's going to direct the traffic!”

Stepping into the fray.

Drivers fighting each other for space, forcing lanes, occasional honking horns. An absolute no-no in those days.

Sir, that is an audible warning instrument, warning of impending danger, NOT an extension of your vocabulary. Got it? Good. Now wait until I signal. Do it again? I’ll book you. Simple.

Yeah, alright. Sorry mate … in a bit of a ‘urry, loike.

That’s okay. Wait a mo, I’ll get you a slot… …

Aw thanks sir. Y’uve moid moi doy. Cheerrrssssss. Hand waving high out of the window.
… … Vrmmmmh

Page III

In those days any more than two horns was akin to ‘conduct likely’! Peace must immediately be restored! All lanes would be halted. Quietness settled upon honkers and pedestrians alike; windows hastily wound up; eyes Straight forward… if I don’t catch his eye, he won’t see me.

Suddenly Boots Corner becomes a Staged expectant audience. Everyone knows the score.
The long low bonnet of the two-seat Mercedes Benz Coupe purrs.

(sheepish ……)

Sorry officer but that wasn’t me…

Another one of Cheltenham’s many ‘Sophia Lorens’.

No madam. I know. It was your lovely pet sitting on your lap. Park over there please, (Clarence Street - North Street) and remain in the car until I come over. Thank you.

Hummmpf. You NASTY man.

Which ended with the Benz doing an ungainly frog march over to the North Street kerb.

You wanna book ‘er mate. Lady bloodee Cheltenham!!

Being tall, my chinstrap helmet made me a giant, and although very slim, the belted tunic (on wet days the belted shin-length gabardine, in winter the trench coat and cape) gave me what today’s generation might call that dementor image or what I would simply have thought of as the figure of authority, nothing more than a reminder to all that we all maintain the Queen’s Peace, and thereby maintain the Rule of Law.

This was in 1972.

When I first wrote this in November 2014, much of that had slipped away.

Back in 1972 we were Still living very much within what is now referred to as the Greatest Generation, most of whom were Still working as they approached early middle age or had just gone past the fifty-year mark.

Page IV

We had many laughs. Pedestrians would quickly fall into order; damn, I can't make a dash for it now that plod’s there! Many an impatience has been met with that sudden parade square voice, the charge of jaywalking, and

Madam! Get back on the path; and you mate! Yes you!! Stand Still!!!

Like a baton at the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, the white armed, black-gloved hand would rise high in the sky, then slowly move back down, the index finger picking off each car roof, each van shield, each lorry, until within its grasp one had at least 12 which, with the graceful sweep of the left arm across the waist, would indicate that all must pass, fast, underneath that menacing finger Still hovering on the roof of the 12th vehicle, drawing it ever closer to one’s black shiny boots!

This often amused me, sensing driver almost Standing up in the seat to see the point in the tarmac at which I expected the bonnet edge to rest over, by which time of course, the finger had transferred to the other hand and now with equal elegance the right arm would swing across one's lower back to the traffic waiting in the High Street, to spritely move forward and enter the Promenade or edge up to within five feet of my rear, to wait, before suddenly being whisked, one at a time with a flick of the left wrist, to pass under arm into the Lower High Street.

The whole thing was a smooth operation of interaction between constable and driver.

The sudden whirl of both arms in clockwise direction across my tunic urged the articulated lorry to get its lock on and to negotiate the harsh left from Clarence Street - North Street into Lower High Street, mirrored in the long windows of Littlewoods (now Primark), the ingathering of pedestrians, prams – no buggies or pushchairs yet - then both arms raised momentarily, hands vertically aligned... that command to all lanes to STOP upon the fourth vehicle.

It was always fun to see those 16 cars quickly clear themselves out of the way, and then a nod of the head, a smile, a wink at the little ones in awe-awonder, the gentle smiles and giggles of mums and a great throng of several-hundred crossing from all four directions... briefly passing pleasantries and jokes... Counting 60 seconds, and up to 60 seconds again if an accelerator betrayed impatience; then the whole movement in this great Symphony would recommence... each Symphony comprising 4 movements, on race days twice that, on Gold Cup Day, at least seven symphonies in the course of one duty.

Page V

Today, we seldom see the grace and elegance of traffic direction. It was an act perfected through two world wars, conducted with deliberate military precision. If you're not quite sure on that, take a look at some of the famous YouTube clips of Point Duty in London and other cities and towns in the 1930s-1970s. Ponder on how we marshalled lines of Lancasters and Halifaxes, Tanks onto trailers, thousands of lorries ~ the sheer tonnage. Many a pedestrian and driver had done more than their bit! I’ve often pondered on how many of these drivers, all types, have seen things I’ve never seen, yet been the reason why I have my freedom.

Captured glimpse of yesteryear.

Come along lad! Move along there!! Haven't got all day holding the town up just for you!! Look after him Luv.

Aye, yeah…

Page VI