Today started off fair – then went pear-shaped and frustrating, then gained a bit of satisfaction.
Me pains were far less than yesterday’s were. No blood from me ablutions (apart from a bit when I cut missen shavin’ – Tsk!)
I spent ages and ages creating graphics for me Political post – then the computer crashed! Restarted. The internet went down. Shit, bother and… never mind, I lost it all. Grrr! Bloody BT!
Inchy’s School Leaving testimonial
I went out to the hospital, calling in the council offices on the way to beg if they could find me sheltered accommodation somewhere nearby to live in, and the nice chap made me an appointment to see another bloke this afternoon. Nice.
Then to the hospital, and got tended to quickly, booked in again for next week.
Then back to town, and caught the bus to ‘Bread and Lard island’ West Bridgford, to see me Sister Jane and brother-in-law Pete. He’s very nearly finished all his decorating now.
I had a dizzy walking from the bus and veered into some trees, opening me wounds on me mush. Double Tsk!
Inchy’s Last school report
Enjoyed me cuppa and natter, then Pete came in with a locked box they had been keeping for me and opened it – guess what, me school leaving testimony from the head master, and me last year report was in it! He took a photo of em, and emailed to me at home. Interesting… or not seeing the low grades wot I got… apart from English where I came top… I say top… first! Yahoo!
Caught bus back home, called in Tesco and Chinese shop to try and get some cheese seaweed, but none available. Treble Tsk!
Got back to the flea-pit, and worked on some posts for a bit, scared the laptop would fail me again.
Jane rang later to see how I was, and that was appreciated.
Ah well, as my Dad used to say: “It’s an ill wind that fails to find too many cooks on a Wednesday afternoon!”
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.
Within 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.
“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.
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 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.
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 baths. But I felt more grown up somehow… for a while.
Within 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 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 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…
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.
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.
I actually managed to get into the Meadows Old Boys Junior football team for one match, a cup match against Corpus Christie at Wilford.
Okay, it was during a mass epidemic of Asian flu and there were not enough ‘proper’ players to make up a team, but I got there, and took part in a record breaking match in more than one way too!
Firstly, it was my first ever time to get a match – come think of it, it was the only time I ever got a match!
The 13-0 score line was the biggest in the Thursday League up until that time!
It was their biggest ever win, and Meadows Old Boy’s biggest ever defeat!
My only Football Match for my School House team
A few weeks later, (the flu epidemic was still rampant) I got into the school house team for a match on our Green Street pitch behind the pavilion.
Determined not to let myself or the house down, I ran out proudly with the number 3 on my back, my boots up to my kneecaps, shirt sleeves hanging around my ankles, and the studs digging through the boots into my feet. (Yes you’ve guessed it, they didn’t supply any tackle like the club did).
Nothing was to get passed me, I was resolved! Anyway, after they scored their fifth goal, three of them from their nippy winger who I just could not touch – I came up with a plan!
I would get him sent off!
I waited until play stopped for a throw in, stood next to him, bearing in mind I was a good 12″ shorter than he was, noticing the ref was behind him, I clutched my face, and went on a self-imposed crumble to the ground.
It worked a treat, and the lad was sent off! I was a hero… me!
They didn’t score again, fair enough we didn’t either, but the lads in my team actually spoke to me as we left the pitch!
After showering, I walked around the back of the dressing room, and as I turned the corner to go past where the coke for the boiler was stored – suddenly nothing!
I woke up in the ambulance, hurt and muddled, as I realised my right eye was painful and closed, and blood was coming out of my nose and cut bottom lip.
It transpires that the nippy winger was not best pleased with my play acting, and was waiting near the coke pile with a shovel as I turned the corner, he whacked in the face with it!
Looking back, I cannot blame him, and I decided I’d never cheated again.
My Boxing Début: Ahead on points…
Another chance for me to prove my sporting prowess came in the boxing competition.
I’m not sure how they graded the competitors, but I (all 4ft 2in and 4 stone soaking wet of me) was matched against a 5′ 8′ 10 stone dude! The school Gym master in his corner, and the caretaker in mine?
The bell (whistle) sounded, and I prayed I wouldn’t burst into tears if he actually hit me.
To my own amazement, he rarely made contact with his roundhouse swings, and I found myself well ahead on points with my jabs and occasional upper cuts (Not that they hurt or bothered him at all).
At the end of the third round, Bob (The caretaker and teller of fibs) told me to go for his stomach as he thought that was a weak area – so I did, managing to despatch my best ever punch, and I recall thinking how much it hurt my hand – the next thing I recalled was waking up in the showers.
Apparently it was such a good blow, that it made the dude so angry, and I never saw his punch coming.
So, it was off to the Children’s Hospital for an x-ray on my hand, and broken nose.
I was plonked on a trolley to await my turn in the queue, as I was a little dizzy still. I’m not sure how long I waited, but I fell asleep I think, or must have moved, and fell off the trolley onto the marble floor.
So they x-rayed my ankle at the same time as the hand and nose, which was just bruised, but the ankle was badly sprained.
Now this naturally worried both mummy and daddy – mummy wanted to know if I could still go nub-ending for her, and daddy showed anxious concern that I could still do my double paper-rounds! Dad said “Surely you can still ride yer bike?”
I explained that dear mummy sold my bike two weeks earlier. (Dad had always been observant).
Determined that I should continue with my duties to the household, he went out to his cobbling bench, got some wood out of the coal-house, and supplied me with a knobbly home-made walking stick! (Which was more than the hospital did)
When I returned to the Children’s Hospital to have the wadding removed, (Mummy would have come with me but it was double money winnings at the bingo club that day) they decided I had to have another tetanus jab, and believe me, in those days the needle was more like a sword! It seemed to me that it was about a foot long, anyway after the nurse said “What a brave little boy, even if you have got holes in your socks and shoes, you didn’t even cry at all!”
Well, it’s hard to cry when you’re as frozen with fear as I was!
I put my sporting career on hold after that… come think of it, it’s still on hold. Hehehe!
Inchcocks, True Tales of Woe. Of utter failure, depression, frustration, and abject poverty. This episode relates a rather more frightening episode of his early experiences than the usual. He tells me he can still smell the aroma the emitted from the elephant when he opened his bedroom window, stuck out his head to find out what all noise and kerfuffle was, and found his head about five foot away from the elephants! This is no bull, records at the Evening Post will prove this, and Georges Stables were also used for the storing animals in advance of the Billy Smarts Circus coming to Nottingham
Now Inchcock will now take over, and tell his tale…
George’s horse stables were underneath the railway viaduct that supported Arkwright St Station, were at the end of our terrace of houses.
Under the arches, was where the big cats were quartered, and the actual stables were used to my knowledge over the years to pen, elephants, rhinos, horses, snakes, ponies and zebras.
As I lay in bed that fateful night, I was aroused by an indescribable noise, as I struggled to find the matches to light the candle, Dad came rushing into the room, and dragged me out, nearly knocking me out as he bashed my head against doorframe, rushed downstairs, stuffed me under the sink and shouted “Stay under there until I tell yer to move!”
He disappeared, and I knew something was amiss (I’ve always been sensitive to these things you know).
But curiosity got the better of me, and I sneaked back upstairs, and stuck my head out of the window in an effort to find out what all the commotion was… and found my head about 5ft away from an elephants head that was coming towards me!
Within about 15 seconds I was back under the sink! I can still remember the smell of that elephant!
Anyway, it transpires that the elephant was a young one that was missing his mater, so he bashed down the stable doors, walked up and down our terrace, then up Brookfield place, on the way head butting in Mrs Wing’s front door, then overturning a blokes Morgan sports car on Derwent Street, then bending a lamppost, then walked up to the Willoughby Street bridge and lifted a man up and put him on the bridge (severely injuring him in the process), turned back into Derwent Street, and charged into mothers illegal bookies house front window, wedging himself firmly in that position! Whaling noises, and crumbling bricks indicated he was not happy being stuck where he was. Boy did he kick up a verbal commotion!
The Cricketers Rest – Where the night-watchman was well sozzled!
Billy Smart’s watchman who was supposed to be looking after the animals in the stables, was apparently in the Cricketers Rest, well sozzled!
The police fetched Mr Widdowson a man who lived on Kirkewhite Street to the scene. Mr Widdowson had worked with elephants during the war in India. Apparently he had been used before to help the police with escaped elephants, but I can only recall this one such event personally.
At this time, I had sneaked out from under the sink to have a proper look, and saw Mr Widdowson with the armed police officers.
Mr Widdowson took a quick look at it, and he said loudly over the nose of the beast; “Shoot it, it’s African” So he went with the marksmen, down the alley to the back of the house, and they broke in and he told them where to shoot it for optimum results.
Then the occupants of the house appeared from upstairs, totally oblivious of what had happened until the gun shots awoke them! (Talk about heavy sleepers?)
It seems that a neighbour saw me at the window earlier, so I got a further taste of the belt buckle and leather for disobeying daddy again by leaving the relative safety of under the sink!
Currently a short portly-but-wobbly 67 year-old made redundant four times, dedicated NHS patient, with his new heart, arthritis, angina, prostate cancer, haemorrhoids, two hearing-aids wearing, bald, miniscule wedding tackle, knock-knees, hernia, bad eyesight, blood disorder and dizzy spells, oh… and depressed. The disasters, disappointments, successes (both of them), his failures, shattered dreams, false arrest, romantic frustrations, the rejections, inefficacious incidents, lack of education, along with the misfits misconceptions, misunderstandings, misadventures, misanalysis’, miscalculations, misinterpretations, misestimations, misfeasances, misperceptions, and miscellaneous miserable moments and occasions throughout his pathetically unsuccessful life will be revealed. Starting at his birth into the cruel world; that event alone was singularly distressing for all.
Starting at his birth into this cruel world, that event alone singularly distressing for all.
Note I originally intended to leave this emprise out of my Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe, but decided even writing about it for the first time, brought a warm, comforting glow back to my lonely soul, so I put it in, despite the recent events in the news!
One Friday night, mother dear gently blew her fag smoke over me, as she cleared away my dinner things, (the enamel basin, mouldy crusts of the bread, and the empty Oxo cube foil) and spoke to me for the first time in two days, asking: “Would you like to go and stay with Auntie Mabel for a few days? She’s got a shed and garden you can play in?”
Perplexed by this magnificent offer, as I wasn’t aware of having an Auntie Mabel, I thought about the proposal, and thought it might be about time I spread my wings beyond the end of the terrace – so I gingerly accepted the invite, (unsure if it was actually an invite or an order to go) with reservations lingering about who the hell ‘Auntie Mabel’ was. (I’ve certainly never heard of her before or after this wonderful escapade).
So, that night, Mummy put a tea shirt, socks and undies into a ‘Marsden’s carrier bag, and off we went on a number 24 West Bridgford Urban District Council bus into the grand ‘Bread & Lard’ island of West Bridford. We dropped off somewhere near the canal. Then I was marched more than walked towards somewhere at Trent Lane end, and into the massive gardens of a foreboding big dark gardened house.
As mummy dear knocked on the door, it was opened immediately, with the ‘welcoming’ woman (Auntie Mable), ushering us in, and doen the steps to the downstairs kitchen. As we arrived in this kitchen, I knew something was very different to what I was used to… I thought for a while, and realised what it was, it had food in it!
I waited for the woman and precious mummy to conduct some business that involved the woman opening her purse and handing mater some cash. (This was not unusual, it’s the other way around that I cannot recall ever seeing happening).
So, with a quickly shouted: “Now you behave yerself for Auntie Mabel, she’ll bring yer back on Monday”, off she went, leaving little me sat on a stool sucking my thumb.
This heavily scented ‘Auntie Mabel approached, and offered me food the likes as I had never seen before, as she rubbed her hand up and down my young skinny legs.
* I liked that, but didn’t know why, but I liked it!
I was given a knife and fork to use, but didn’t know how to – this didn’t disturb ‘Auntie Mabel’ at all, as she produced some cake and ice-cream – again food I was unused to, but relished.
I was then taken upstairs, by the red faced, heavily lipsticked, nice smelling, plump, polite, slightly scary ‘Auntie Mabel’, who thought I could do with a bath. A real luxury here, and I didn’t have to bath myself – she saw to that.
*I liked that too, but didn’t know why!
It confused me a little, that certain areas of my anatomy were receiving a lot more attention than the rest of my puny underfed, scrawny body was.
* Again I liked that, but didn’t know why!
The drying off was with real towels too! Again certain areas got dried off with more attention than other areas.
* I liked that too, but didn’t know why!
‘Auntie Mabel decided as she was drying me off, that she’d like to take some photographs to remember me by, and this took about 2½ hours, what with all the “Must get you in the best position and lighting ‘my dear’!
* I liked that, but didn’t know why!
Time for bed she decreed, “Do you sleep with your mummy at home?” No chance I thought, but just squeaked a mild “No”. “Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”
* I liked that idea, but hadn’t the vaguest idea why!
“Please” I muttered.
I found out that the reason she was on her own, was that her husband was away on business, so we had to keep ourselves company so we don’t get lonely! She said.
No chance of that, I think we must have spent about 24 hours in bed! Still, I’ve always been up for getting educated.
* I liked that, and was beginning to understand why! Oh happy memories!
When we eventually rose up from bed, me being very sore, confused, but absolutely ecstatic, it was into the bathroom for another two hours.
* I loved that, but now knew why, and I was eagerly learning.
Then into the kitchen, for more food, (I must have eaten the equivalent to a months supply at home in three days)
The whole stay at ‘Auntie Mabel’s” consisted of the same and similar treatment.
* I liked that, but didn’t know why, but have been eternally grateful ever since!
I just hated it when it was all over!
She returned me home on Monday, offering one last concealed gentle caress and a couple of well aimed gropes as I entered the house.
How I begged to be taken back to see ‘Auntie Mabel’ again – but as mysteriously as she appeared in my life, she had heart-breakingly gone from it.
I spent the next two weekends searching to see if I could find her house again, but to no avail. Dad said had never heard of any Auntie Mabel either.
Residents have spoken of their joy and surprise after Buckingham Palace announced Prince William and Princess Catherine will join the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh on their trip to the city on June 13.
My response to this Evening Post article was:
I’m so glad for them both.
It will be a reet-treat for them!
Being a long time resident of Nottingham, being made redundant three times, living for a month on a pension that’s less than they pay for a bottle of plonk.
Recovering from heart surgery, suffering with arthritis, impetigo, haemorrhoids, failing reflux valve, and angina, high blood pressure, on 17 medications a day, depressed, bothered and getting angst (mugged twice) by the local yobs, the flea pit I live in (well… I say live?), is even more decrepit than I am, and my expert knowledge of knowing where to find the cheapest short date foods to buy, will no doubt have fascinated them.
Still, it doesn’t bother me, I know my place… in the gutter! (Hehehe)
Had they responded to my trying to flag their armoured Land Rover down to have a natter with them – instead of the policeman nearby… who did have a natter with me. (The bloke in the picture is not me, I was doing me David Bailey bit with me ten year old camera!)
I’d have offered to show then around the places they would not usually visit without their nine full time armed protection officers and a helicopter hovering above.
Well, you’ve got to try and help the poor little mites, bless them!
* I could have shown them the six police stations torched in the Summer riots – or rather the three that are still operating anyway.
* The burn marks on the Canning Circus station grab bars are still visible as you climb the steps to go into it still brings back the memories.
* I could show them the scenes where a party-goer was shot in the head with an air rifle, that’s only a few hundred yards to the south of my house.
* Then the pub where a youth was shot and killed, that’s just a few hundred yards north of my house.
* The spot where a man sat in a car was shot at by members of one of the many drug gangs around, that’s about half a mile from my abode, and on my weekly 90 minute walking route to the hospital for my INR Warfarin level blood tests.
* Take them on my 40 minute walk to town down Mansfield Road, and pointed out the variety of closed down retail businesses en route (46).
* Where the 84 year old lady was mugged and hospitalised last June, while at the bus stop by two illegal immigrants one Sunday morning, the now closed down shop on Mansfield Road where a lady of 67 years of age was gunned down in a raid and no one has ever been caught for it.
* Let them see the colourful Big Issue sellers as they sometimes get off their mobile phones to actually sell an issue.
* The newly opened outlets in the city centre – the Charity shops, the Bookmakers, the Coffee shops, the numerous Pay-day Loan outlets and the We buy your gold retailers.
* The constant traffic jams in the city, where they could increase their word knowledge I’m sure!
* Take them to the Arboretum, where sometimes you can find enough grass to sit on without having to move the used condoms, beer cans (empty), pop and water bottles (empty), half eaten take away foods, fag packets, phlegm, and sick, while they could listen to three or four other peoples music at the same time!
Well, I was not feeling very well on the day wot I wrote it like, and I missed me morning medications…
