It might have been dream filled, but the bit of sleep I managed was most welcome after so long without any. A plus here.
Up around 0500hrs. Me first WC visit, but blood from the back passage. A minus levelling me earlier plus there.
I put laptop on. Made cuppa, no breakfast yet, feeling a tad queasy. WC.
Set out to catch up on emails and blogs, to give meself time to get ready later to meet brother-in-law Pete in town. He’s agreed to take some photo’s of me that I can manipulate (manipulate… another word I like, don’t know why though) for later use on the blogs. This saves me repeating too many on posts.
WC. I blogged away to my heart’s content.
Got ready things for my walk to town to meet Pete – put camera in bag first, then nibbles and medications.
Off up to the bathroom for me ablutions, WC and cleansing of the teggies and body. Changed togs and off I went… after a quick visit to the WC.
I started to walk to town, nibbling me seaweed, banana and pecan nuts as I trundled along.
Near the cemetery on Mansfield road, I saw an old Rolls Royce driving towards me. I hastily got out me camera and took a shot of it – well I tried to… but a bus belted past from behind just as I was shooting it and made me jump. The Rolls Royce is located behind the bus on the photo here. Tsk!
I pressed on, and as I got near to the centre of town, I saw an ambulance with its lights flashing. I thought maybe some poor devil had been knocked down. As I drew level with the altercation on the opposite side of the road, I saw two pretend police ‘womanesses’ (CPOs) with the medics, and the bloke who had been mugged was still on the floor? Welcome to Nottingham.
Wandered to where I’d arranged to meet Pete, and there he was.
We had a wander around town, and I tried out some of what I thought were a few punch-lines on him, that I might put in a blog-post. He didn’t laugh. But as we are both a bit on the deaf side… never mind.
We went to the bus station, and Pete took some photo’s I might get me face of for a bit of graphicastionalistical fun with.
Pete gorron his bus home, and I wandered back through town to me bus stop, taking some photos while passing through the city centre.
Being late Friday afternoon, as expected the bus was very full – but no one sat next to me in the spare seat, they stood instead? Mmmm… And I’d put me ‘Brut’ on when I had me wash… Mmmm?
Got in me street, no yobs about thank heavens.
Had several cups of tea, well I made several cups of tea. Most of em went cold cause I was deep in concentration making graphics to use later.
Made me nosh of leftover bits of ham, instant cheese mash and a tin of sweet corn, naturally I had me seaweed with it, followed by an orange lolly.
I’ve still not got over the best put-down line offered to me from a member of the opposite sex, to date. (And there has been hundreds over the years).
I was working at Tesco at the time, and this new girl Wilhelmina had started there, and she soon got my heart, foibles and desires all of a flutter.
Eventually I plucked up enough courage to offer to take her on a date, to the pictures (to the Elite cinema) in Nottingham.
Her response, hit me hard, and I’ve never forgotten how she leant her head to one side, adopted a radiant sympathetic smile, and looked down at me and said: “No thanks titch, I only date men!”
As it came over, I was uncertain if she was referring to my height or length. Although I agree, both measurements are extremely short, incommensurate, and remarkably insufficient.
I feel I am not responsible for either of these miniscule measurements. Can’t understand it, my Dad was more than well equipped.
It isn’t fair!
Dr Gropeworthy
I once visited a psychologist, a Dr Damien Gropeworthy for help with my phobia. He just said “It is a darling little thing that should be cherished and massaged regularly.”
I didn’t go back to see him again.
But you can see my problem… can’t you? (Well not see my shortage as such, but the difficulties it presents to me).
Any good advice would be welcome, as I have a date next week, and need to be prepared you see.
Yours: Juan Inchcock Chambers
Grane plot 34 (Next to the fire bombed police car) The Nottingham Ex Gas Lamp Lighters Benefit Support Association Accommodation, Central Cemetery, Nottingham.
Not much kip again, but at least I got some in last night.
First job my sixth visit of the night to the WC.
Laptop on, had a cuppa and porridge. Had a great time creating commenting on a few and reading blogs. BT internet only went down a few time this morning.
About 1230hrs did me ablutions, WC, got ready to go and pick up my extra prescription from the GP. WC’d before I left.
Got prescription from the surgery, and set off on a walk (limp) into town.
Walked passed the chemists forgetting to get me medications – I blame the fact that I was noshing a banana.
In town, I caught a bus out to Derby.
I fed the pigeons behind the bus station. Noticed how low the water was, this revealed a new shopping trolley in the Derwent.
Had a hobble around, noticed all the people seemed in a bad mood there.
Walked out and caught bus to Mansfield.
In Mansfield, I realised that the people of Derby, were in fact not in a bad mood. What a depressing place the market there was today. Folk already staggering sloshed out of the pubs, people arguing, oh dearie me.
I bought a crossword book from the arcade, and made my way back to the bus station. I could smell food cooking somewhere, so was forced to investigate in the shop. Boy did I have a job telling her I had bought the crossword book from somewhere else.
Caught the bus back to Carrington, it was busy with passengers by then, and I had the company of a foreign lady on the seat in front speaking non-stop on her mobile, and a deep voiced loud chap on his mobile in the seat behind. Proper headache by the time I got off the bus. Neither stopped talking for over an hour.
I got off the bus as I had cunningly planned, near the chemists. Went in and they dispensed me prescription for me within fifteen minutes as I started me crossword book off.
Good job there was some extra pain-killers, had to take a couple straight away for me headache. Tsk!
Struggled home, knees and feet bad now. Got in, put the kettle on, and then went back out to the chemists to pick up me crossword book.
Back to the hovel again. WC.
Had a Cornish pastie peas and microwave chips – naughty but nice, followed by an orange jelly. I just don’t care yer know!
Took laptop up to do this blog. WC.
Not one of me most exciting days, but at least I got out a bit, must phone Jane again later and try and cheer her up a tad.
Late December 1963: This incident took place while I as working at Tesco on Goosegate, Hockley in Nottingham. (The only Tesco in Nottingham at the time).
I was manager of the Greengrocery Section at the time. It was 0800hrs and I was setting out the display, as I noticed this tramp-like chap with a heavy sack under his arm, and the biggest blotchy nose I’ve ever seen walk into the store and he said to me, in a refined sort of voice “Good Morning young man” and proceeded down the aisle to the tinned meats sections shelves.
As I was looking at him, a mate (Butchers cutter Ray Miles and old school chum) was filling the meat fridge opposite where the chap was, and we acknowledged each other. At that moment the big-nosed chappy opened the heavy sack, and scooped all the Fray Bentos corned beef tins into it – slung it over his shoulder, and proceeded to walk out of the store.
I jumped down from the trolley of potato sacks I was putting on the display as he passed me, and said; “Excuse me Sir…”
“Fair enough governor, you’ve got me!” Then handed me the sack, and he actually led me into the back and upstairs.
The manager joined us, and the police were called.
They arrived through the back loading door within 10 minutes, and you should have seen the beaming smiles on their faces when they saw the chap and greeted him with; “Hallo Arthur, how the devil have you been keeping son?”
One of the policemen handed out his fags to the other officer and ‘Arthur’, and they chatted merrily away for an hour or so. Eventually they arrested him, and he was collected by another officer who came to fetch him, and another old-time gossip session took place between they all, with laughter, back slapping etc.
After he’s been taken away, the remaining plain clothes officer told us that it was near Christmas, so Arthur always got himself arrested so he could be fed and looked after over the holidays.
The Shoplifting Lemon Jacketed Vixen
1964: I had been promoted to the grand title of ‘Trainee Assistant Manager’. The store manager’s name was Mr Wynn, and we had a new Assistant Manager, Mr Goodhead.
I was helping out on the tills, and unbeknown to me, Mr Goodhead and a store detective had been following this giant of a woman, wearing a bright ‘lemon’ jacket and had been seen hiding tinned products in her own shopping bag.
The first I knew of this was when Mr Goodhead, tried to stop the woman as she exited the doors, and she swung her bag of canned food around and into the face of Mr Goodhead, knocking him out for the count.
For some reason, she ran not out of the shop, but into it, and a chase ensued with me, Mr Wyn, a woman supervisor (Can’t remember her name) the store detective woman, Ray Miles and several other brave staff chasing her around the gondolas and shelves for a few minutes (Even at the time I thought this is a bit like a Keystone Cops film).
Then she ‘Lemon’ woman ran into the back of the store, up the stairs and into the warehouse, where she was eventually wrestled to the floor. Several cuts and bruises were suffered by the staff in this scrap, ‘Lemon was strong woman.
As we waited for the police to arrive in the warehouse, a rather weather-beaten Mr Goodhead appeared, with a hell of a lump of his forehead, along with a trickle of blood from his ear-hole.
Two women PCs arrived, and that set of the ‘Lemon’ again. It took the PCs and three of us to calm her down again.
Another police car arrived, and we managed to get her into the back of the Panda, not easy trying to carry 16 stone of unwilling ‘Lemon’ to a car, I can tell you.
As the car drew off up the back road with ‘Lemon’ ensconced in it, it was amusing to see the car swerve and shake about with the springs being tested to their limit.
We counted our injured. Mr Goodhead head injuries, sent to hospital three days off work – Our female supervisor broken nail, bloody lip and pulled hamstring, eight days off work – The Store Detective woman, bloody nose and scratched face – Ray Miles bruised testicles, Inchcock bit fingers and broken glasses.
Eventually we found out that the woman (Lemon) had received 3 months probation and a £20 fine.
Was it worth it I asked?
The Lincolnshire Chase
So there I was, sent to the Lincoln Tesco, as additional help in getting the store sorted in time for reopening after a fire.
Tesco had got Bruce Forsyth and then David Nixon to do a visit to encourage shoppers to attend the reopening.
We only just managed to get everything ready on time, and I worked throughout the night, along with many others.
The opening ceremony went well, Mr Forsyth and Mr Nixon, especially Mr Nixon, ere true gentlemen and remained unflustered as their fans approached them.
After they had both gone, I had hoped to get some sleep in – but the codeword for a shoplifter came over the tannoy, so it was all male staff to the shop floor.
The distinctively dresses Teddyboy doing the shoplifting, skipped past the manager, and had it away on his toes, with me in pursuit.
Eventually I had to give up the chase, I bet he’s not been working all night.
Then it dawned on me… I was lost.
Eventually, after asking for directions repeatedly, I got back to the store, just in time to start my next shift.
It has come to me attention, and that of the NHS Casualty Department staff, that I have been clobbered four times now, by folk driving disabled and Motorbility scooters in the Nottingham area.
The First Attack
The first was on Mansfield Road near the cemetery as I was walking up the hill on my way to town.
He came from behind, knocking me over and spilling my bag of goodies on the floor as he drove over me right leg. It were a decent clout wot I received.
The disabled driver then continued to rant at me, despite my pointing to me hearing aids, and then shot off up the hill. I asked the woman who came over to me, what he was saying. It seemed he was asking if I was alright, but got angry when I couldn’t hear what he was saying?
Anyway, I gorrup with the lady’s assistance, dusted missen down, thanked the lady, and carried on me walk into town. Unfortunately I took a turn for the worse, and felt very dizzy, so called into the NHS Drop-in centre in town, who checked me over and called for an ambulance. At the hospital, the grim faced doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me, and churlishly sent me on me way.
The Second Attack
Shopping in Victoria centre, I as hobbling along nicely and received a blow from behind as the mobility scooter knocked into me.
I called out immediately to the driver, and heard his description of certain male bodily parts in answer.
The Third Attack
In Derby’s Eagle Centre. I was stood still, bent down sorting out the things in me shopping bag, walking stick on me arm.
Next thing me nose is touching the floor, as the gentleman in a Motorbility scooter knocked me over from behind, breaking me walking stick as he just carried on over it, and disappeared!
The Fourth Attack
This took place in the Queens Medical hospital a few weeks ago.
I’d just arrived at the haematology dept for me weekly INR Warfarin level tests, and was near the ticket issue machine. A lady on a Motorbility scooter pulled up beside me. I asked her if she needed a ticket. She just replied “No I don’t”.
So I took one for myself, and moved over to the second row of seats, and was stood by the end of them, getting my paperwork out ready, and as propelled across the seats as she drove into them, and she carried on trying to accelerate for a while, I could feel the shuddering.
The staff in treatment room heard the commotion and came out as she had finally managed to free her scooter from me and the chairs, and drove off! The staff did an accident report for me. I went in for me tests, and they all had a good laugh about it.
I’d like to request you send me some limpet mines at a good price, so that next time I can try to disable the offending scooter long enough for me to… well..
I’ve just watched a DVD that me brother-in-law copied off the telly for me. About disability scooters, and the drivers not having to take a test or practise on them before going out on the roads to mangle Inchcock.
And it said the dangerous drivers of these mechanic accidents waiting to happen, do not have to have insurance either?
Up after another nasty nightmare filled night at about 0430hrs.
Morrison’s delivery expected this morning twixt 0700 and 0800hrs.
BT internet playing up again.
Made cuppa, took medications.
Searched for the DVD I ordered three weeks ago from HMV, and collected last Friday. ‘The Big Job’. Sid James, Dick Emery, Jim Dale, a good old comedy. Tried to watch it last night, but HMV had left the security thingy on it, so I wanted to put in bag now, so I could return it and get em to remove it. But couldn’t find it – Tsk!
BT internet connection crap, now gone all together (0525hrs)
Got laundry things ready for after delivery of nosh.
BT back on-line 0550 hrs. Nice of em innit?
BT back OFF-LINE 0556 hrs. Reset box again… Gits!
BT back on-line 0600 hrs.
BT back OFF-LINE 0601 hrs.
BT back on-line 0604 hrs.
I lost connection between 0550hrs and 0620 hrs about eight/nine times! Grrrr, had to keep resetting or rebooting. Gave up.
Anyone else on BT, How’s your connection today?
Morrison’s delivered at 0734 hrs. Put the stuff away. (Well, some of it).
0800 hrs, ablutions and got launderette togs ready, so much to take I could hardly carry em.
On the way to the launderette, an amoeba belted passed me on a pushbike un frit me half to death, almost hit me. I called out, and soon learnt he was an experienced driver by the finger sign he gave me as he disappeared into the distance, bless him!
At the launderette, I had a good laugh with the gal there, and we tried to do a crossword. Cheered me up that did.
Back to the hovel, put togs away (Well, dropped the bags upstairs), and did another search for the DVD – and wallah; I found it. Where you might ask… er… in the bath actually, don’t ask why it was there, I don’t know.
Took an apple and pack of seaweed and other healthy food to eat on me walk into town. Must remember to take the DVD back to be opened.
Called on me way, to tell… oh I forget her name now, the laundry gal that I’d found the DVD. She did laugh… bless her.
Hobbling into town, halfway up the hill on Mansfield Road near the cemetery, blow me if someone else didn’t belt passed me on a bike on the pavement, nearly knocking me over. I’m getting fed up with these near misses from bikers.
Went into Tesco and got me Krakowska meat. Then limped into the slab square, took a photo of the disgusting children’s fountain and paddling pool. Dumped at the end of it, were beer cans and bottles, cigarette ends, sweet wrappers, crisp packets etc.
Proceeded, (I could have written carried on to, or Then, but I like typing Proceeded) along to the bank to extract some money and get me balance (Oh dear me).
Then took a walk to Aldi, and got some of their excellent Lemon cheesecakes and Porridge pots (what Lidl have stopped selling).
Feet and knees on bad shape now, so wandered to the bus stop, and caught one back to Beirut… I mean Carrington. As I got off the bus, a bloody motorcyclist this time, nearly hit me, as he drove on the pavement to the chip shop! I bravely took his photo from behind him.
I tottered back to the dump, and made a nice cup of Punjana tea bags. They are very good and strong, and they’re on offer at the moment at Morrison’s too, 49p off.
Started the laptop, and the BT connection was okay, perhaps they think I’m still in town?
1500 hrs BT connection down… Tsk! Back up 1509 hrs.
Started to do graphics for Letters to LOMM 8
Gang of about eight youths swaggering up the centre of the street. Hope they keep moving.
Getting on with graphics.
Yobs lurking outside again, going to go upstairs out of the way.
I’ll post this and try to remember to carry on the next from this time.
Inspired by a letter published in the Daily Telegraph
The E-Mail
Having been bothered with the local yobs on my street, several times, and mugged twice. I’d like to give you an update on my situation.
Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Nottingham Sherwood police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Sherwood by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or Ouija board.
As I’m writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in Sherbrooke Road, Carrington, Nottingham
Three of them seem to enjoy insulting passing pedestrians and motorists, threatening them as the pass.
The remaining five walking abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins.
Several of them wander off to set fire to the odd bin. When they get to house number 14, I am concerned they might cause a catastrophe, due to the location of a rusty Calor gas bottle between the bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches. Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I’ve just finished cleaning me windows.
What I suggest is this. After replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably their bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.
I trust that when I take a claw-hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you’ll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.
I was working at the Nottingham Cooperative Society’s Co-op House on Upper Parliament Street, in the food hall, as general dogsbody, and not very popular goffer.
The Caves
On my first day I was sent down to the cellars (Tunnels come caves) below the building, to lay mouse traps and rat poison, in an effort clear the place of the little mites. An order I thought a little out of the ordinary, but I followed them, collected the traps and poison, and went down into the bowels of the building to do my duty. (Little realising that the staff had set up a tape recording of eerie sounds, thinking it would be fun to scare me to death!)
I soon spotted the ‘Bush’ tape recorder after hearing the sounds it emitted, and carried on laying the traps and poison pots. By the time I’d finished, there were already some dead rats in a few of the traps.
Full of myself, I extricated a larger one from the trap, and carrying it in my outstretched hand, re-entered the store warehouse smiling and grinning, saying to I thought the mates I’d left assembling orders fro delivery, thinking I being rather droll and witty: “‘Ere you are then, dead as a dodo, we can put it in the mincer with the beef un make some money… haha…”
I stopped as soon as I realised the area shops inspector was stood directly in front of me!
I managed to get another job with Tesco.
Pat Phoenix’s Visit to Tesco
Pat Phoenix as Elsie Tanner
Tesco on Granby Street in Nottingham, had arranged a promotional visit from Pat Phoenix, who at the time was playing the part of the very popular feisty Elsie Tanner in Coronation Street. She was supposed to sign autographs for ten minutes, and then do a mock shop to impress the public.
It was utter pandemonium, we had earlier built a wall of Heinz soup boxes covered in colourful crepe paper, behind which we had placed a table and chair for her to sit on and greet her fans, and offer her signature to them. (With her very large body guard stood next to her)
So many emotional fans turned up, we had to get all the male staff on the shop floor, to try and control them as they all wanted to speak to her first. At one time, we all linked arms to try and stem the rush of the dear old biddies from causing physical damage to the Ms Phoenix, it was like a football match at times.
She and her bodyguard chain smoked throughout the time Pat was signing her signature for her fans. Rothman’s King Size they both smoked.
After about 40 minutes, she was able to escape the confines of the table and chair, did a very quick pretend shop, took her cheque, and left.
As she was leaving, I noticed that the soup boxes had their crepe paper coverings torn apart, and the tins were crushed and spread out on the floor during the melee. At this point, I also realised that I had blood coming from my ear-hole, and running down my white coat.
A few days later, a photographer, who had been taking pictures of the event on the day, came in, to find the staff in the photos he’s taken to sell them a print.
One of the girls (Kathleen, I remember Kathleen… sorry…) pointed out to me a particular photo; it was taken when I was in the line of staff trying to stem the flow of women, and it showed an old lady, about 5 stones and 4 foot tall, just about to push the pointed end of her rolled up umbrella into my ear-hole, in her efforts to get through to her soap opera idol!
Well at least I now know why I had to have four stitches in my lug-hole!
Awoke around 0500hrs, and greeted another wonderful day of excitement, jubilation, hopes, dreams, adventure, hysteria, passion and happiness.
Or, if you want the real truth, depression, accidents, frustration, discomfiture, vexation, pain, chagrin, nervousness, fear, loneliness, faux pas and decay. But I wont mention them.
Me hole…
Gorrup and entangled wiv me blog posting graphics and creations.
When I went out to take some stuff to the bins, I noticed the Virgin Media hole in the pavement was gerrin bigger… oh dear!
The cunning step that moves?
Then after feedin’ the birds, on my return to the hovel, I managed to trip ‘Up’ the step to the door. I now have a very pretty scrape down me right shin, and a bruised chin. Oh, that rhymed. Tsk!
Put some cream on me wounds, and while doing so, the tube burst!
Still, it didn’t bleed much, which means me Warfarin level might be a bit low… or is that high? Never mind.
While bending to clean up the antiseptic cream wot I squirted on the floor, Arthur Itis made an appearance in me knees. (Huh, and it had been so good up until then today)
Knees too painful fer meto pick up the seeds wot I split when ups-a-daisying up the door-step wot I swear moved on its own.
Received an email from me mate in America, Andy, with a funny in it that I thought deserved graphicalisating ( I know, no such word, but I like it) a bit:
I wonder who the modelled for the original artist/photographer?
Went off to town to see if HMV had got DVD I ordered in yet. “The Big Job” Made around 1959 I think, can’t find a date on the box. Comedy with Sid James, Sylvia Syms, Dick Emery, Jim Dale and other old comedy actors. Looking forward to watching it later on next week. after a long walk around Victoria Centre looking for the store that had relocated, I found someone official and asked him where it had moved to, naturally had moved to the only part I’d not walked through looking, at the far end of here I stopped and asked the bloke.
Feet humming a bit now, despite this I had a walk around town with the intention of taking some photo’s for putting on here. I remembered to take the camera, but early this morning when I was taking some off of it to put on here, I left the flippin’ thing on and it went flat… oh what a superior nit-wit I am.
Termination of compilation of the days activities at 1610hrs. Will commence tomorrows Inchy Today from that time, providing I remember to, the BT connection does not fail again, and the old laptop doesn’t die a sad death of course.
There was 15 of us, all looking forward hopefully to sampling the Lancashire ales and lassies, as we climbed into the battered old AEC Regal coach – and set out for the ‘Gladstone Pub’ Darts Team Annual Outing – this year, a weekend stay at Southport.
As seemed traditional, we got lost on the way there, and our ETA of 1800hrs, was actually 2100hrs at the hotel on the seafront road.
The place was deserted, not a single person in sight, apart from our motley crew, as we exited the warmth of the bus, out into the, oh so cold wind blowing in from the sea, and we each grabbed our luggage and ran into the hotel foyer.
We were dispersed in three bedrooms, five beds in each, and were soon washed, changed, and back down to meet the others in the foyer, ready and eager for the quenching of our need for ale, as we hurriedly (it was getting late, and the pubs there closed at eleven) walked into the centre of the city, to find a pub to sample.
After my fifth pint, I think our group were playing dominoes, or trying to, things get a bit fuzzy memory-wise, and the next clear but painful recollection was of the next morning.
I awoke, and was gripped by a panic; I could not open my eyes! As I moved to find the edge of the bed, I hit my head on something solid – now I was really confused… then one of the lads said (over the cheering of the other lads) “Hang on, hang on, Christ I’m sorry Inchy, I thought it was a tube of shaving lather…”?)
It seemed that I had opened the door of the wardrobe, and got my head down with my feet sticking out the night before, and one of the lads thought it would be an amusing prank, if he covered my face in shaving lather, but in his inebriated state, he thought the tube of my toothpaste was Palmolive shaving cream, and he covered my face in it, thus I could not open my eyes this morning when it had dried like concrete!
They were now concerned for my predicament, despite their hangovers, and took me into the bathroom, and dipped my head in and out of some hot water, until the toothpaste was soft enough to be picked off in lumps, much to their amusement. They managed to take off a third of my moustache at the same time!
Nipper, as we named him
We all decided it would be a good idea, to go for a bracing walk along the seafront road to help clear our heads, and so in a short while there we were, fifteen of ambling along the centre of the road, shuddering in the wind, with me bringing up the rear – when I noticed the lads in front split up to either side of the road, to reveal this little dog, belting though them, only to stop at me, and decided to have a chew of my ankle, much to the merriment of the lads! I still cannot work out why this beast should run passed fourteen lads, and twenty-eight ankles, to get to mine for his breakfast?
AEC Regal
That being the last night there, we set out to enjoy the amenities on offer at the ale providing hostelries of Southport, not at that time concerned that we had foolishly arranged for the coach to pick us up at 0500hrs in the morning!
The Concorde flight simulator
We then entered an amusement complex; There was a massive new machine, that for 2/6d (12.5p), one could test ones skills at trying to land Concorde. There was if I remember right, controls for speed, left right, up, down, braking etc. And a crude map of London to guide you in. A read-out was produced after the game was over, with estimated damage caused in cost and casualties.
A few of the lads had a go, and really made a mess off it, nearly all of them crashing on the landing. This caused the usual gambling instinct among them to come to the fore, and about eight of us put 10/- in the kitty, to go to the lad who had the least number of casualties, we assumed none of us would actually get to land the thing! (And we were right)
I went last, feeling sure I could do no worse than the others had, they produced end figures like, Cost: £1m Casualties: Deaths 75 Injuries 102.
The map, I thought was the secret, I had to use it to guide myself near enough to any airport, (the scenario chosen for me by the machine, was that the plane had to land within so many minutes of the game starting)
I espied a ‘Greenwich sign location early in the game, and tried, even when it was taken off the map, to keep an eye out for it at all times.
As the plane descended, there at the bottom corner of the screen I could see the word Greenwich again, and moved hastily in its direction, turned, and made what I thought was a spot on landing on it!
It turned out to be Greenwich Power Station! (They tell me that even if it was the airport, the landing strips were too short for the plane to land on anyway)
So, with a read-out of Cost: £150 billion (The machine could not record anything higher) Casualties: Deaths 500,000 Injuries 901,808, I did not win the bet.
Afterwards we split into little groups, and again I lose many facts of what occurred after that, again until the morning.
With much effort and pain, we slowly got ourselves up, after the coach driver had been allowed to come up to our rooms to offer us verbal and physical encouragement for us to get up!
ER Statue: Assaulted
As we assembled a sorry looking bunch indeed, it came to light that we were short of two bodies… Clive, and Frank. It later transpired that Clive was in local nick, and Frank was in hospital with something broken, after he’d apparently in his intoxicated revelry thought it a good idea to nick a ladder and decorate Queen Victoria’s statue, with a beer filled condom, and a bottle of Mackeson. His leg was broken in two places as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. The fool!
All I had was a part-missing moustache, a bloodied ankle, and a massive headache. So compared to some of the lads, I’d done well.
That was until it came to alighting from the coach, as I missed my footing on the steps, and joined Frank with a broken leg.
Hey-ho, young and impulsive I was… nowadays I’m just old and repulsive!
