The Banjo groyne was where I learnt to swim in the 50s. When I got the hang of swimming, I with other kids dived from the groyne into the lovely deep water from the round bit of the groyne. The tide seemed to stay in for ages. A friend of mine had a wood and canvas canoe that we played in for hours on the Banjo beach. Afterwards we would have to push this canoe up Dukes Mound to the top, and then home on a two wheel contraption. This canoe was a relic from the war and was covered in tar and heavy.

As a teenager I lived in Kemptown (1956/59) and the beaches either side of the Banjo Groyne were the beaches of choice for those of us locals that enjoyed swimming in the sea. I have vivid memories of those hot summer days. At high tide change we used to dive/jump from the groyne to impress the tourists/girls. It looked a lot more dangerous than it really was as we made sure we were diving/jumping into the deep water pool to the east of the groyne. You had to be prepared for the rip current though - if caught by it you were carried around the groyne to the adjacent beach at a high rate of knots. I suppose they'd call these antics an extreme sport these days although all the exercise must have certainly toughened us up because I remember swimming off those same beaches late in the season when the red flags were up. It was also a matter of pride to dash around on the cobbles wearing nothing on our feet. I still remember the tourists' unbelievable looks as they hobbled around the beach wearing sandals.

Ian Hunt from Alberta Canada made me giggle about the pebbles on the beaches. I too played on the Banjo groyne the same time as Ian. We kids could dash across those pebbles with no problem and no pain at all. We would laugh at the holidaymakers who wended their way to the water. Those with sandals or old plimsoles were ok. But those without any footwear had a struggle to make it to the water. Some took hours as though they were treading on hot coals, and others would shuffle down on their bums. When I go to the beach with my grandkids I realise how they felt, because I now struggle down to the water if I have forgotten my beach shoes just as the holidaymakers did all those years ago.

When I was seven in 1947, my cousin Joan, who was 18 dived off the banjo groyne and injured her spine. she ended up in a wheel chair for the rest of her short life. Such a tragedy for a bubbly young girl. I remember, she was in the land army at the time.

I'm pleased to see my 6 year old jumping off Banjo's last summer into just the same deep clear water Ian and Mick describe. I note Harry's warning though...personally, I surf there whenever the waves are right. It's a great place to have a quietish spot of beach - even in August.

Like all those above, I remember the Groyne well. I was one of the many boys that used to fish there. Volks railway in the summer on other memories, what a wonderfull place it was. I frequently walked there - down Dukes Mound which came out on the opposite side of the beach - to the Groyne.

On the 25th of May, 1879, a man called George Perrin slit his own throat at the Banjo Groyne. He'd just murdered a baker named Charlotte Hill in an argument over a bowl of flour. The sea washes everything away, doesn't it?

Just to let Laurie Selby know that yes Volks railway still runs along the beach from the Palace pier to the Marina, I guess this must be the train to which you refer? I was on it on Sunday with my family and little grandson. Long may it remain, keep your hands off it Brighton council!