Inchcock Today: Friday 1st August 2014

Friday 1st August 2014

03 01

Cautionary Introduction by Inchcock’s psychiatrist Dr Uppopo Smyth-Robinson, MRCPsych, FRCPsych

Friday 1st August 2014

What a flaming night, I wus awake more than asleep… until it came time to gerrup, then I fell asleep! Cor blimey.

The cramps were ‘orrible, the nightmares every time I nodded off fer a few minutes, the angina, the piles… but hey-ho, I’m still ‘ere. (Well, I think I am… what is reality after all? – summat different to every person innit like?… is it?)

Took the bins out fer me and me neighbour – noticing how she had artistically decorated hers with maggots inside and out. I thought the bin men… sorry, I should have said Council Waste Management and Disposal Technician, would refuse to empty it – but no, he did? Nothing to do with her being a suntanned, nubile young thing that looks like a model and know it you think?

Set to work on me blogging and emails.

Gorra wash shave and brush-up, and had a walk into town. Then a hobble around town. Took some photo’s: One of a van driving down the pavement with his hazard lights on delivering?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERACaught the bus home, and read a letter that I got from Age Concern- very nice detail about their ‘Age Concern Funeral Plan’ that I took out with em.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Naughty driver…

Promised a 28 day money back guarantee! Lot o’ good that’ll do me when I’ve croaked… unless they bury me alive and I get out of the grave and claim me money back! Hehehe!

When I got back to the house, it pored with rain, I observed a  gang of six yobs in the opposite gateway across from me house. Four bigguns and two little uns. The rain stopped after a few minutes, but so did they. Kicking footballs and threatening passing drivers for nearly an hour.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI kept out of the way, cause they might have been the ones that mugged me last year, and now I’m in fear.

After they had gone, I updated this tosh, with the photo on the left, not a good one, but it proves they were there.

Made up some black bags of unwanted stuff for Sister Jane and Brother-in-law Pete, who will kindly sort it out for me. Phoned PEte, told him what was happening, and that the bags were ready at his convenience.

Oh ‘eck… I’ve missed me evening medications with all this hassle. Never mind, only an hour late, should be okay.

TTFN all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part 19: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe

The Dart team’s out of season trip to Southport

W19 03 house

The Digs, as they are today

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!

W19 03 house

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?

W19 02 bus

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!

W19 05 simulat

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!

W19 04 ER

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!

Inchy Today – Wed 30th July 2014

03 01

I decided, as I haven’t been insulted or sneered at for a while, I’d call in where these antisocial facets would be guaranteed – the local Lidl.

I  was in decent form to start with, checked I’d got me shoes and not slippers on, me spectacles on, me hearing aids in, me hat on, me dressings on me ‘Inch’ were secure, I’d got some money wimmie, I locked the door behind me, and checked to see if any local yobs were about before I left the flea-pit.

03 02I hobbled down to the shop, having to take a longer route because the police had blocked off a road due to an RTC (Road Traffic Collision), just behind the New Inn where that bloke got stabbed last Wednesday.

03 03I got onto Mansfield Road, and entered the shop. No baskets again, had to fetch one from the till area, as did other customers.

But I was in a fair mood, so said nothing, and carried on with shopping for me bits.

At the greengrocer stand, I looked at the tomatoes on offer. There was on lot of decent looking tomatoes, but there was no country of origin on them.

I ought to remind you wonderful, enigmatic, attractive readers that; I worked on the food retail business for years, and I thought they might have they disposed with the ruling that the country of origin must clearly be stated on all products nowadays?

There was this young shop assistant, nearly moving to, but I caught up with him while he stopped to chat up a bimbo while she was shopping, and asked him; (Nicely like!) “Excuse me, can you tell me where the tomatoes next to the end come from, as I thought it was a legal requirement to put the country of origin on all produce?” The reply; “Huh?” – I said never mind and carried on.

03 04When I got to the fridges at the back of the store, I observed I was being observed by the security guard.

I couldn’t find the Krakowska meat that I like, and after only ten minutes searching for one, I found a member of staff to ask if they had any in stock. Before I’d got to mentioning the product I was after, she’s said; “If there is none there, we havva gotta any!” and was off like, just like Clivey Boy when he is with 500 yards of a boozer and his nose picks the scent of the ale, fast!

I got to the checkout, joined the queue and the till lady said; “Owston klaird funk poonds ten?” I thought she was going to give me a Hitler salute, but no. So after checking with the reading on the cash register, I gave her a fiver to pay the four pound ten bill. And got ten 1p pieces in the change!

I exited the premises, again telling myself not to go there again (Lidl), and the security guard followed me out. So I turned and walked towards him, and he went back in the shop?!?!

Now I was not in a good mood.

Limped home, opening the door, I saw laying there on the carpet, a letter from the City Homes people.

My heart leapt with joy… Have they got a home for me to go to… No! – It just told me I had been downgraded in the waiting list to classification Five, the bottom one.

Now usually, I would have sworn and cursed a bit at this, but as I lifted the nosh tray off the bin to throw the letter in, I dropped the tray with all the stuff on it…

So I cursed and swore a bit at that instead!

03 05 OsbI’ve just read that George Osborne shops at Lidl? In this photo off the web, he isn’t shopping; he’s filling up the cob basket… and without his disposable gloves on too!

Suppose he’s got shares in them.

Now I’ve really pissed missen off!

Life eh?

TTFN all.

Inchcock’s Beloved Grizelda – Part 1

My Beloved Grizelda

01 cupid

Part 1  The Beginning

It all started, when a work colleague, Horace, invited me to a wedding anniversary meal at his home in Wilford, Nottingham many years ago.

His wife Susan, had also invited her German pen friend, Grizelda Freudenberger from Saarland.

I arrived at his cottage early and soon found myself being accepted within the family, despite my horrendous features and appearance (Just finished work).

Susan asked if I could go and pick up Grizelda at the Nottingham train station in a couple of hours, and I willingly said yes.

An hour or so later, we heard a taxi pull up outside, it was Grizelda, who had arrived early at the station, and caught the cab to the cottage.

Susan and I trotted up the garden path to the taxi. I watched as Grizelda climbed out of the taxi and it rose creakingly by a good three inches higher from the ground. She was a big girl.

Giselda was about 5’11” tall, around 15 stone (solid with it), a lovely dark head of hair (I later found out she had some in other places too!) Gorgeous wide hips, tree trunk legs that I instantly wanted to wrap myself around for a month or two.

Susan and Grizelda were talking excitedly in German, as the taxi driver was struggling to get the luggage out of the boot, I was just about to help him, when Grizelda strolled over and lifted the cases single handedly out of the boot, and placed them on the drive-way, returning to Susan, she cast me a quick glance up and down, and smiled at me!

My inside’s wobbled, and my extremities were girded into action, as I realised this was love at first sight! I had never known such an instant frenzy in my undies before. It actually hurt me.

It was also lust, aphrodisia, and instant arousal, passion, desire, a painful hunger… an itch that just had to be satisfied or suicide would have to be considered.

Such previously unknown to me emotions frenziedly tore away at my innards… and although they confused me somewhat, it felt good!

Horace came out to help carry the luggage in, I took a case, and Horace another, Grizelda, biceps bulging out from her short sleeved pink blouse, carried the other two big ones up the path, and we entered the house.

I sat myself down, and watched as they introduced the kids, and talked and talked about each other so merrily and happily together, as I sat cross legged.

I must admit I concentrated on the shape, words, (I knew a bit of German) actions, and innuendos of Grizelda really – and was sure she kept giving me a sly glance, again looking me up and down, and a discrete smile coming from the scar near her top lip.

Understandably with all the talking, on their first face-to-face meeting, by the time we were ready to eat, the meal was burnt a little, and Horace suggested they go and fetch a take-away instead.

We all agreed, and Grizelda said she would sort out her things in the bedroom she was to use, so Horace and Susan could fetch the food, and she would be ready, refreshed and changed by the time they got back with it.

Grizelda’s next words, were heaven for me to hear, and I knew something was in the air, perhaps romance (And I hoped rampant sex) wise.

“Perhaps Gerry could help me with my luggage and t’ings while you two go for food… yes?”

They took the kids and went off to fetch the food.

I stood facing Grizelda, my nose touching her hairy breasts, and we smiled at each other – no words seemed necessary or needed, and were not used initially.

We almost ran into the bedroom, threw the things out of her suitcases into the cupboards and drawers, and got into the shower together – (and she did not mention the microscopic size of my appendage once all the time I was with her, how sensitive she was!)

We fiddled, fumbled, sucked, and caressed in the falling water, as passion grew between us, she carried me to the bed and threw me on it.

The following explorations of each others foibles, desires, and needs was soon over, and the, fervent activity of intimate copulate followed, as she placed me between her tremendously desirous, muscular and hirsute legs.

It was intense, consuming, poignant and hot-blooded in the extreme. (Although I had to be careful not to catch the boils on her neck during the activities.)

She carried me back to the shower, and who would have thought that washing each other could have been so pleasurable, interesting, and entertaining. She taught me a lot that first day, bless her.

As we were getting dressed after our pulsating pleasures, we realised that Susan and Horace were expected back – we went into the living room and found them there, having eaten their take-away, sat besides our now cold take-away fodder on the table.

They had arrived back and saw our activities taking place in the bedroom, and had quietly returned to the living room, so as not to disturb us – what understanding and kind friends they were.

As I left that night, I arranged to pick Grizelda up on the Tuesday, and with the greatest of expectations and bodily excitement, take her home with me to my flat!

She smiled and gently squeezed my meat-and-two-veg as we departed.

I suffered the pain quiet gladly.

She put me down, and off I went, full of yearning for our next meeting!

As I walked along, full of satisfaction, and realising this was the best time of my life, pondering deeply about the good fortune and sex I’d just enjoyed – I realised I’d gone to the cottage in the car – so went back to collect it.

That woman had certainly got to me in a big way – thank heavens!

Keep an eye out for Part Two of Inchcock’s Beloved Grizelda, as soon as I get over the emotional turmoil and long defunct feeling my body is telling me it needs… Hehehe!

Inchcock’s Rhyming Review of our MP’s Characters

As sent in to us by Gerald Inchcock Chambers (67), currently of The Upper Denture Care Home (Manure Cupboard), The Shed, Top end of Nottingham’s Central Cemetery, Between the graffiti’d Gravestone of Isaiah Milligan and the burnt out Ford Consul Classic at the back of the ice-cream van.

Rhyme2 01

The odd MP will be a Europhile,

The odd MP will be antimissile,

The odd MP will be a bibliophile,

The odd MP will be like a crocodile,

The odd MP will be a homophile,

The odd MP will be erstwhile,

The odd MP will be infantile,

The odd MP will be infertile

The odd MP will be very hostile,

The odd MP will be a paedophile,

The odd MP will be unsterile,

The odd MP will be a technophile,

The odd MP will be versatile,

The odd MP will be unfertile,

The odd MP will be docile,

The odd MP will be verbally agile,

The odd MP will be extremely virile,

The odd MP will be volatile,

The odd MP will be worthwhile,

The odd MP will be invirile,

The odd MP will be fertile,

The odd MP will be a gentile,

The odd MP will be juvenile,

The odd MP will be socially vile.

All MP’s behaviour can bring up your bile,

All MP’s behaviour are full of guile

All MP’s behaviour can make you can only revile,

All MP’s behaviour can be often in denial,

All MP’s behaviour can be often puerile,

All MP’s behaviour can be often futile,

All MP’s behaviour can can make you think ‘Is it all worthwhile?’

MP’s all have a false misleading, PR made profile,

Depicting them as being honest, with a pleasant lifestyle,

Despite their nepotism, nihilism, and fiddling, all the while,

For their crimes of fiddling, and lying and acting purile,

They rarely face prosecution; hardly ever do they get to trial!

Part 18: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe – Inchcock’s first Angling Match

W18 01I had joined the local pub’s angling club (The Gladstone), and was on my first match. It was on the Yorkshire Derwent. I’d only started fishing a month earlier, and was full of trepidation, but excited about it. The lads seemed a decent bunch. Being a newcomer, as with all of them, I was put in ‘A’ section to assess my skills, against the others. One of them had actually fished for England! W18 02Somehow, the smoke emitting old Bedford OWB coach got us all the way there, and to the 2 mile hike along the river bank to our designated match stretch. We dropped off near a pub, and had five match lengths of river bank to walk to get to our allotted section, and that was after a half mile walk from the pub to the river bank!

W18 03

By gum it fought well, but I gorrit in the end

For the first 5 hours and 50 minutes of the 6 hour match, I didn’t even get a bite! Then, when I did, I struck, and struggled to get the fish out, and it was a tiny eel, and I’d never seen one of them before. Nobody had explained to about how slippery and slimy they were, and I ended up on the grass, grappling with this 3 ounce eel… and nearly losing! The whistle indicating the end of the match was blown as I was putting the eel into a bait box full of water, I looked back up the bank, and there were about half a dozen of the lads who had been watching my embarrassing fight with the tiny eel, and they all laughed and then gave me a round of applause, accompanied with a few loud boos, whistles and selected comments of a injurious nature. Bless em! It turned out at the weigh-in, that only two fish had been caught – my hard-nosed eel, and one Tommy Ruff, so on my first match, I’d won the prize money, and had a challenge cup to keep for a year! Easy this match fishing lark I foolishly thought. My next win was five years later. So we all packed up and took the trek back to the pick-up point for the bus that was conveniently in a pub car park. With only two fish being caught, the weigh-in had taken no time at all, and we were very early for the pick-up, the coach not yet in site. The landlord opened the pub up early for us. I was soon guzzling ale, and listening and watching some of the lads play a game of ‘Tip-pit’, which I’d never seen before, and was fascinated with. After a while, I thought I’d better nip to the toilet before the coach arrives, and off I went to the little boy’s room, where I found I had a touch of constipation, but persisted painfully. When I got back into the pub, there was none of the lads or any of their tackle to be found! They had piled the tackle and themselves on board, and driven off, leaving me behind in the loo! Bless them, I was a new face, and they were rat-arsed… understandable I suppose! There were no mobile phones to use in those days. I rang the Gladstone, leaving a message, and requesting rescue. Then settled into a game of domino’s with some of the locals, oh, and imbibed a few more pints of the excellent ale on offer. It turned out that about an hour or so later, the lads on the bus were sorting out the raffle, and eventually they realised I was not there. They returned to collect me, amid much jibing, Mickey-taking, and the ranting from the bus driver, and picked me up. I fell into a splendid alcohol induced stupor on the way home. Forced out of this wonderful state, I was awoken and kicked off the bus at the end of the road here I lived, and my fishing tackle thrown out along with me. I picked it all up, and made my way to the flat. It had been burgled – Tsk!

Part 17: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe – Several enforced moves of abode

W16 Wilford Grove

From the lodgings to a flat…

I was content living at the ex-offenders lodgings, but the cost eventually led me to move into a flat on Melton Road. It was far less than the full board that I was paying that had just gone up to £6 a week, at 17/- (35p), but of course meant I had to buy food and cleaners and stuff like that.

It was one room, with shared latrines and bathroom. But I felt more grown up somehow… for a while.

W17 01Within a week, the landlady’s rather buxom daughter arrived at my door holding a bottle of Walker’s Red Label whisky…

Things took place that I cannot fully remember but…

It seem I was legless when she returned back downstairs to her mater, and I thought it a good idea to cook some sausages…

The fire brigade officer woke from my alcohol induced sleep, and the landlady kindly threw me out.

From the flat, to another flat…

I was lucky, in quickly finding another flat on Ryeland Crescent.

Again, an attic room, with a woman and her, er… oh so scary daughters.

I had to avoid certain situations to be safe from them.

Then one Saturday night, they all went out, so I sneaked down and watched their TV. As I was watching Morecome and Wise on the set, a rather large built bloke burst in through the back door, demanding to see Christine (Scary daughter number two), and wanting to know if I was messing about with her. I indicated that I was not messing about with her, and she had gone with her family to the Odeon cinema.

W017 02“Oh, she don’t wanna go awt wi’ me though does she?” shouted the man, he seemed to be getting very het up. He blamed me for some reason, and started to trash the room – heroics called for here I thought (What a burke!) I tried to restrain him, and got the radio set over my head for me efforts, followed by a few well place thumps and a rather tear producing kick in the groin. We continued to struggle with one other for a while, until he suddenly stopped, broke down in tears, apologised and left?

I stopped the bleeding from my head, then spent the next couple of hours trying to sort the room out as much as I could, and rewired the plug onto the radio – still not really believing what had just taken place.

The family returned, I explained what happened, she did not believe me, went upstairs and packed my suit cases and I was thrown out again!

From the Flat to Digs off Huntingdon Street…

A mate from work took me in for couple of days, and I found lodgings with a family on Huntingdon Street. (Just off it actually, I can’t remember the name of the street though… mind you, I can remember the name of the landlady and her daughters!

Landlady Mavis, daughter one Audrey (night nurse at Rampton Mental Hospital very handy cause she could visit me during the day), and Veronica.

I was only there a few months, ’cause the landlady had designs on me, Veronica the younger daughter was unsure what she wanted, and Audrey… phew, she was rampant!

Moved to Carrington rented a small house…

The best thing about this place was Audrey would visit twice weekly, and left me feeling weakly… but oh so contented! (Ah memories)

It wasn’t me, any bloke would have done, and did regularly, but without doubt I learnt more from Audrey than any other gal. Plump heavy gal, massively hairy armpits etc, and what a personality. (Shudders with the thoughts, and regrets of no longer being acquainted with the sexpot)

Carrington to a flat at 30 Bingham Road, Sherwood…

Stayed here for many years, and was happy, oh so happy too. I think it was £9 a week.

Had the entire ground floor to myself, big front room, bedroom, cellar, bathroom/toilet, living room, kitchen and garden too!

Started me angling here, joined a local club, it was quiet and peaceful, I just loved it.

One night while I was in this flat is worth mentioning…

I’d been out to the local social club at lunch, but didn’t even get through my first pint, when I started to feel oh so poorly. So I returned to the flat,

Struggled into the front room, and plonked myself on the settee, around 1230 hrs. I remember waking around 1800 hrs and seeing the lamp lights through the window swaying, going back and forth, and thought I’d better have a look in the medical box see if I’ve got something to take.

W017 03I found a bottle of ‘Night Nurse’, and consumed a good swig of it, then laid down back on the settee.

I woke up in the morning (later found out if was 0700 hrs) naked and flat out on the garden lawn, with the landlady bent over me slapping me face.

A neighbour later told me I was dancing for hours in the garden, and trying to sing?

I’ve never tried ‘Night nurse’ medications again!

But the landlord sold out and the new one wanted to update the place, and charge £20 a week.

Oh dear…

Part 16: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe – Inchcock moves to offenders relocation digs!

Part 16: Inchcock goes into the offenders relocation digs – unknowingly!

Woes15 EvictThe ending of Part 15:

Mummy had done another bunk, and I could stay with her (the neighbours) house until I found somewhere to live!) This seemed to please her Security Guard husband’s Alsatian no end, as I able to supply the snarling, vicious, yet pampered beast with a choice of bone selections for him to chew on overnight, as I slept on the settee.

 Continuing the Tale…

W16 phoneThe next day, I went off to work at Tesco, and after while I got call at the store from dear mummy.

She quipped that she had got me somewhere to live. (Which I thought I’d already got before she stopped paying the rent, emptied the gas and electricity meters, flogged off some of the furniture, all my stuff, all Dad’s stuff, sold a neighbouring family a holiday in a none existent caravan, and did a runner!)

W16 Wilford GroveThis place she had got for me to lodge at was at some digs in the Meadows, 49 Wilford Grove East, and I was assured it was nice and clean.

I went around that night to view these digs – and found the landlady to be firm but nice with it. Mary her name was.

The three storey house had 6 bedrooms, one a single, two doubles, two triple bedded, one with four beds, and the top one with nine beds in it.

W16 5 guineasThe only shock was the prices of the board, £5.5.0. (5 guineas) a week board! I think I was only earning about £9 a week at that time – but needs must.

So I moved in, and soon settled in with the other 11 or so lads who were staying there.

The landlady, Mary Gavin came from Athlone in Ireland, was hard, fair, and a none-bull-shitter, what she said went.

Her husband Jack was a Nottingham man, big, and as soft of butter, I never knew him to lose his temper.

Woes15 AlesI soon palled up with other three the lads in my bedroom, and being the youngest, was soon introduced to the pleasures of regular intakes of Home Ales, how to play darts, and the perpetual tottie seeking activities that I was not very good at… keen, persistent, avid, but generally unsuccessful.

The only period of success I had, came after about a year in the digs, and I was doing well at work, had been promoted with a nice increase in pay, and one of lads, I think his name was Trevor, suggested we combine out finances and buy a car on sale just down the road from the digs.

I explained I could not drive, and for the next month one or the other of lads would take me for lessons every night.

Woes15 carI would drive the others round with the L plates on. The car, a Ford Consul Classic 4 door, Maroon with a cream roof, was still for sale, and the price had dropped to £90!

We purchased the vehicle, filled it with petrol, took it for a spin, and found it had many, many extras!

1) The steering column gear change was unmasterable to both of us, but at least when either of us went to pick someone up, they would be aware of our arrival beforehand by the tuneful grating noise that accompanied all gear changes.

2) The pleasant aroma of petrol fumes was, it appears standard on that model, and made many long drives intensely enjoyable and worry free!

3) As the head light casings regularly filled up with rainwater, we considered putting a goldfish in to customise the thing.

4) We were unsure who tied the front bumper on, but they used electrical cable, and made a custom job of it, leaving it at a pleasant 15% angle.

5) Air conditioning came through the whole in the drivers foot-well, and the cracks around the inverted rear window.

6) The steering was slack and flaccid to say the least it was rather disconcerting when travelling at speed (not that was very often believe me) as at times you was actually turning the massive very thin steering wheel to the left, as you and the vehicle refused to respond!

7) You had to try not to slam the driver’s doors too hard, as this had a custom of encouraging the side window to disappear with a painful grating noise at it fell.

The last, but most monumental extra I found – was that for some reason, maybe because it and twin headlights and looked American, it was the finest tottie puller in the Nottingham!

A trip to the Pally for a dance and crumpet, now bought success, unparalleled in my lifetime!

The girls were impressed with the car of course, not me!!!

Ah…. memories…. distant memories…. remembering the memories gets harder as I grow into the state of decrepitude and senility, as is the lot of all those who live long enough…

See what I mean, I nearly lost it there!

Anyway, overall it was a slow, noisy, smelly, unreliable, and expensive to run car: The Best Car I’ve Ever Had!

Any-road-up, it was about 8 months after I’d moved into the lodgings, that I found out it was half-way house for prison parolees!

Trust in mother to find me somewhere to live!

Part 17: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tale of Woe – Several Enforced Moves of Abode

From the lodgings into a flat…

W16 Wilford GroveI was content living at the ex-offenders lodgings, but the cost eventually led me to move into a flat on Melton Road. It was far less than the full board that I was paying, that had just gone up to £6 a week, at 17/- (35P), but of course meant I had to buy food and cleaners and stuff like that.

It was one room, with shared latrines and baths. But I felt more grown up somehow… for a while.

W17 01Within a week, the landlady’s buxom daughter arrived at my door holding a bottle of Walker’s Red Label whisky…

Things took place that I cannot fully remember but…

It seem I was legless when she returned back downstairs to her mater, and I thought it a good idea to cook some sausages…

A while later the fire brigade officer woke me from my alcohol induce sleep, and the landlady kindly threw me out.

From the flat, to another flat…

I was lucky, in quickly finding another flat on Ryland Crescent.

Again, an attic room, with a woman and her oh so scary daughters.

I had to avoid certain situations to be safe from them.

Then one Saturday night, they all went out, so I sneaked down and watched their TV. As I was watching Morecome and Wise on the set, a rather large built bloke burst in through the back door, demanding to see Christine (Scary daughter number two), and wanting to know if I was messing about with her. I indicated that I was not messing about with her, and she had gone with her family to the Odeon cinema.

“Oh, she don’t wanna go awt wi’ me though does she?” shouted the man, he seemedW017 02 to be getting very het up. He blamed me for some reason, and started to trash the room – heroics called for here I thought (What a burk!) I tried to restrain him, and got the radio set over my head for me efforts, followed by a few well place thumps and a rather tear producing kick in the groin. We continued to struggle with each other for a while, until he suddenly stopped, broke down in tears, apologised and left?

I spent the next couple of hours trying to sort the room out as much as I could, and rewired the plug onto the radio – still not really believing what had just taken place.

The family returned, I explained what happened, she did not believe me, went upstairs and packed my suit cases and I was thrown out again!

A mate from work took me in for couple of days, and I found lodgings with a family on Huntingdon Street.) I’ve often wandered since then: Is it the law that landladies have to have daughters? Just a thought.

Moved to Digs off Huntingdon Street

Landlady Mavis, daughter one Audrey a night nurse at Rampton Mental Hospital (very handy cause she could visit me during the day), and Veronica.

I was only their a few months, cause the landlady had designs on me, Veronica the younger daughter was unsure what she wanted, and Audrey… phew, she was rampant!

 Moved to Carrington and rented a small house…

The best thing about this place was Audrey would visit twice weekly, and left me feeling weakly… but oh so contented! (Ah memories)

It wasn’t me personally that attracted Audrey, it was any bloke would do, and did regularly, but without doubt I learnt more from Audrey than any other gal. Plump heavy gal, massively hairy armpits etc, and what a personality. (Shudders with the thoughts, and regrets of no longer being acquainted with the sexpot)

Carrington to a flat at 30 Bingham Road, Sherwood…

W017 04Stayed here for many years, and was happy, oh so happy too. I think it was £9 a week.

Had the entire ground floor to myself, big front room, bedroom, cellar, bathroom/toilet, living room, kitchen and garden too!

Started me angling here, joined a local club, it was quiet and peaceful, I just loved it.

One night while I was in this flat is worth mentioning...

I’d been out to the local social club at lunch, but didn’t even get through my first pint, when I started to feel oh so poorly. So I returned to the flat,

Struggled into the front room, and plonked myself on the settee, around 1230 hrs. I remember waking around 1800 hrs and seeing the lamp lights through the window swaying, going back and forth, and thought I’d better have a look in the medical box see if I’ve got something to take.

W017 03

WARNING: Make sure it’s not out of date!

I found a bottle of ‘Night Nurse’, and consumed a good swig of it, then laid down back on the settee.

I woke up in the morning (later found out it was 0700 hrs) naked and flat out on the garden lawn, with the landlady bent over me slapping me face.

A neighbour later told me I was dancing like a pregnant rhinoceros with a broken leg for hours in the garden, and trying to sing?

I’ve never tried ‘Night nurse’ medications again!

But the landlord sold out and the new one wanted to update the place, and charge £20 a week.

Oh dear…

Inchcock’s Historical Walks of Ye Olde Nottingham: To the Arboretum

Inchcock’s Historical Walks of Ye Olde Nottingham

*Incorporating his Guide to Visitors to the Arboretum

Crowds

No mobiles or ipods, muggers, radios, drugs, beggars or rubbish in them days. Nice!

A place where an extensive variety of woody plants are cultivated. For scientific, recreational, educational, and ornamental purposes.

We start at Radford Road, departing from where the Alms Cottages were situated, until the 1960’s, when the then new Police Station was built, and later fire-bombed in the 1982 and 2011 Nottingham Riots.

Police fire

Canning Circus Police Station – fire-bombed in the last riots.

We walk up along the road, past where ‘The Grand Theatre’, where Nottingham’s first screening of films to the public on 13th July 1896 was situated. It closed in the 50’s. It reopened as the Leno Cinema, and was very popular. A pay-day loan company and a bookies shop that got raided last month is now at this spot on the road.

As we pass the Jeweller’s shop on our left, that was ram raided in the 2011 riots, and we pass the alleyway that Albert Staples (71) was stabbed to death in 2008, we come to the ‘We buy gold’ pawnbrokers, where the Co-op food store stood up until 2000, and the police car was fire-bombed in 2011.

As we get to where now stand’s the much shop-lifted Asda (Walmart) store, that replaced the twelve year old blocks of flats that had to be pulled down due to their crumbling concrete, we see the graffiti covered war memorial plaque near the market stalls, in front of the public house where two men were stabbed last March.

Over the road on our right, the church that has now become a mosque is sat between the Indian take-away, and the Benefits Office. Neither were attacked during the riots.

At the second-hand charity shop, next to the three closed down retail units, we turn left onto the damaged trees-lined Gregory Boulevard, with the remains of the fire-bombed cafe on our left, hidden behind the graffiti covered advertising panels.

We cross the road to our right, we pass the Oriental/Asian food superstore, with its colourful array of old fruit, wrinkled vegetables, and threatening stares from the gathering clan of local youths waiting to go to the Job Centre Plus.

RubbishAt the traffic lights near the Forest recreation fields, and closed down church, we turn up Mount Hooton Road, where the Tram stops, and park & ride car park, that had three cars stolen and fourteen damaged in the 2011 Nottingham riots, is situated.

We walk up the hill, ignoring the condoms and blood on the pavement, and cross over the road at the ‘out of order’ pedestrian crossing lights.

pneuAt the top of the hill, we pass the Public House on our left of what now is Waverley Street, down the hill.

On our left, the P N E U Schools (Independent) with its Security Guarded gates at 13 Waverley Street, with its security guards and alarmed gates. Then on our right, the rows of old Victorian houses, in which the rich and wealthy of Nottingham once lived, the first two now knocked into one and occupied by the Ukrainian Social Club.

hid in treesDown the hill, we come to the first gate into the Nottingham Arboretum (where I was mugged last September), where you can imagine in days gone by the nannies would take their charges for a stroll in their prams, listen to the music from the Band Stand, and partake in an ice-Treesmuggedcream. Today it is where the prostitutes take their charges for a stroll into their knickers, listen to the music from their ipods, and partake in sex and drugs.

There was always a park keeper prepared to take care of you in the old days. Nowadays there is always a mugger lurking to take care of your money, mobile, and cash-card.

Where once the lovingly cared for beds of flowers flourished, the detritus and debris of the current lifestyle litter the place, fag-ends, dumped old cycles, condoms, phlegm, sweet wrappers, and the like.

Ducks

Cleaner in those days yer know…

The large pond, once so praised and appreciated by Nottingham folk, now stinks as the leaves are left to rot in the water. The few ducks left struggle to swim in the murky water, and the peacocks have all been killed or stolen.

The CCTV camera put in place in 2006, and had its wires cut the same day, is still not operational.

HotelarsonWhere once the cafe hut was always busy, and the chairs outside always full of happy sociable customers, now the chairs have been stolen, and they only sell coke and sandwiches through the narrow security grating.

AviaryWe walk down passing the Mansfield Road entrance, we pass the Aviary, where the Police van was attacked in the 2011 Nottingham riots, and Karen Mitchell was raped last April, we pass the Park Bench donated in the memory of a local councillor, now vandalised and dilapidated, next to the spot where the police found a knife, that turned out to be the murder weapon used in the killing of a 54 year-old female shop assistant on Mansfield Road, another unsolved murder, in 2002.

We end this enjoyable Historical Walk of Olde Nottingham, exiting the Arboretum opposite the fire-bombed in the 2011 Nottingham riots, Police Station, now closed down.

Anyone interested in taking a ‘Guided tour of Olde Nottingham’, please contact the Tour Guide, Juan Inchcock, at Nottingham City Hospital, the Benefits Offices on Parliament Street, the Pound Shop or Alcoholics Anonymous.

More Historical Walks of Ye Olde Nottingham to follow.

Inchcock’s Guide to Nottingham’s arboretum

aGuide topYour tour guide will walk you through the route from Hyson Green, to the Nottingham Arboretum – describing along the way, the current multi-culturally rich lifestyle as opposed to the history of Nottingham in the same area.

The following statement was given to the Nottingham police, by a 67 year old, 5’3″ tall, made redundant, overweight, bald, bespectacled, hearing aids wearing, depressed, cardiac suffering, arthritic, lesser endowed, angina ridden, imitation man named Juan Inchcock, after he’d decided to take a walk (hobble) for the first time in years through the Nottingham beautiful Arboretum, to feed the ducks, in an effort to cheer himself up a bit.

The Statement:

On Friday 1st October, I took a walk to the Nottingham Arboretum on Dryden Street.

I meandered down the contraceptive ridden top path, walking down through the bottles and food packages, and the abandoned broken umbrella, to the detritus covered duck pond at the bottom of the site.

The ducks were not around, so I fed the pigeons some bread and seed, as I rebuffed the foul mouthed down-and-out Wurzel Gummage double who was demanding money from me.

I was walking between some bushes and trees towards the exit, two youths appeared, one holding a knife, and they demanded my cash and cash card. I(I realised this after a while, as it took me a bit of time to hear and understand what they wanted due to their accents and me hearing aids… but I got it after one pointed his steak-knife in my direction.) The one that looked like a miniature version of Wladimir Klitschko did most of the threatening and had the knife.

They were very unhappy when I told them I did not have a cash card on me, then I produced the £2.45 in cash I had on me… they searched me and nicked me mobile, then belted me around the head, and ran off with my carrier bag, that contained an apple, some medications, a pack of tissues, a pot of nuts, and a small carton of orange juice.

As I rose from the ground, I realised I’d landed in some dog excrement.

At least they did not take my bus-pass!

Signature: Inchcock Chambers

ParkingsafeThe officers I was reporting this to, called in other officers, who had a good read and jolly laugh at my statement wot I’d dun and written like.

Of course they took in seriously.

I’ve not heard anything since.