I presume so, it was a brick and corrugated type of structure that we could just go in and I remember the slope away down into the darkness. I also remember that Henna, we were about eight at the time, started up an Escort van next to it as the keys were in it, so we had to run off pretty quick having learned some interesting words from a red faced bloke!
Actually we complain about the youth of today, but my great uncle Frank Rowell used to tell me stories about how they would torment neighbours around the bottom end of Queen st and that was 100 years ago now!!
Frank became a chief engineer in the merchant navy.His ship was torpedoed in the south Atlantic and his intersting story of the event and the week or so in a lifeboat to Namibia (skeleton coast) and their subsequent rescue I can recount if anyone is interested?
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