True Tales of Woe – Page 81

Inchcock Misses His Walk into Nottingham

Juan Inchcock, our 68 year old Nottingham correspondent and unemployed Gas Street lamp wick trimmer, found himself housebound the today.

Partly due to his arthritis, angina, losing his free-bus-pass and walking stick, the flapping holed sole of his right shoe, and the lousy wet weather.

He was straining a thrice-used Asda Smartprice tea bag, when he thought about what he might be missing on his cancelled wonderful walks through his beloved Nottingham.

He takes up the story… no hang on, he’ll take up the story when he returns from the loo.

(Whistle whistle…)

Ah here he comes….

Inchcock explains all

I feel rather sad really, realising the many things I had come to expect to see and enjoy on my daily hobble into Nottingham and by bus-ride back home again.

The things I miss most

* The skills I’ve acquired over the years in avoiding the dog phoo and broken bottles on the way to the main road.

* Checking for the gangs of yobs, and taking a different route.

* The skilful way I avoid the stones thrown at me, and ignore having my parentage questioned by the little mites in the playground as I pass the Junior school.

* Passing the many Pay-Day loan outlets is a bit depressing though. Not often I see any customers in them, but they always seem to be someone smoking, with a pram with toddler and beer cans in it, and a few kids with them. The kids are usually trying their best to destroy the furniture in the office.

* The pleasure of guessing to myself, where the next road blocked off while the police investigate the murder, stabbing, or fire-bombing that took place the previous night will be situated.

* Using my vast experience and skills in spotting and avoiding the beggars, Big Issue sellers, and pickpockets as I approach the city centre.

* Observing the playful way in which the shoplifters are occasionally removed from the stores into the police vehicles.

* Popping into the 99p store to be short-changed, sneered at and overcharged, I have to appreciate their consistency.

* Moving along to the Pound shop and getting out without physical injury is very rewarding – reminds me of jumble sales in the 1960’s.

* The St Peter’s Church area. Where one can find Jehovah’s witnesses, Muslims’ and of odd Christian spouting their beliefs.

* The clever way in which I take the routes less likely to be shat on by the pigeons, not always successfully I admit… all this experience is invaluable.

* To stand and watch Himmler, the parking attendant, with his chest out, and weighed down with all his pouches, machines, and tackle around his midriff, strutting up and down Mansfield Road, as he totally ignores cars parked on the pavement, and in the disabled bay. I often wondered if his ticket machine actually works, I’ve never seen him use it yet this year (or last year come to that!).

* The lunchtime drunks falling out of the pubs can be entertaining too.

* I often wonder if I am the only person to see the drug dealing going on in the city library and McDonald’s.

* Avoiding the gangs of lager swilling pot smoking scary looking gentlemen who gather outside of the three benefit offices in the city centre is an essential part of surviving a walk through town. But I have to take care not to trip over any of empty strong lager cans.

* The gentle whiff of rotting decay rising from the canal, as the ducks try to navigate around the shopping trolleys, condoms, empty cider bottles, and bicycles to get to the bread I’ve thrown in for them is always worth a look.

* The constant melodious sound of intruder alarms, car, and emergency vehicle sirens and klaxon’s, mingle with voices and curses of people being arrested, the children swearing, and the many different languages being spoken, all blend together to create a distinctively Nottingham sound that should be appreciated.

* A quick check on the many Charity shops – but they cannot help me!

* I might pop into the Arboretum to feed the ducks, get mugged, on my way to a meeting with my financial advisor (Social Security Benefits Office).

* An essential part of my strolls through the City Centre is to count the many and ever increasing number of retail premises closed down, for sale, lease, or rent. I do a report each month for the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society’s newsletter, although they have never printed one yet.

* I’ll often stand outside Starbucks, Caffe Nero or Costa Coffee, and sniff in the aroma, watching the people inside who can afford £2.99 for a cup of the horrible stuff.

* The pleasant group of youths who congregate in the slab square near the fountains are worth a watch while I rest me weary feet and legs and eat me seaweed. I think the one with four ear-rings, a nose ring, smudged tattoos on his neck and green dyed hair is the best of them at seeing hoe far they can spit into the paddling pool area.

* Having been hit four times my Mobility Scooters (Or the people supposedly driving them) I am on tenterhooks when in the city centre. So I have to try and keep an eye out for them while trying to keep me balance walking, and watching for potential muggers. (I’ve been mugged twice as well).

Oh I do miss my daily walk into Nottingham!

Part 22: Inchcock’s True Tales of Woe – The Night of the Storms!

So there I was, out of work.

In the old days it was easier to get another job, but all I could manage was to become a night security guard for a local company…. on £3.10 ($4.79) an hour!

**The main hall, and Pitch and Putt area**

I was posted to the Co-op College, Stanford Hall, out in the country at Rempstone, on 13 hours night shifts, and a 15 mile trip each way.

The place was massive, duties included, patrolling all 11 buildings, restaurant, pub, archives, library, stores, computer room, reception, cash takings security, drunks, car parking, games rooms, tennis courts, golf course, the Lido, the four residential blocks (including the 244 students regular studebts), the tutors quarters, the 18 classrooms, issuing tennis and golf gear for hire, the Roman gardens, the central heating for the main block, and greeting visitors and taking them in the restaurant to serve salads to them, before guiding them to their rooms and carrying their luggage for them, manning the phones, responding to calls for assistance form pupils, tutors, bar staff, and visitors, the local police ARV vehicle, key control (there were over a thousand keys on site), the hundreds of windows on site, different timed lock-ups unlocks, setting unsetting alarms, unlocks, escorting bar staff to and from the safe with the cash, keeping drunks in order, somehow finding time for recorded patrols and responding to calls for help etc etc!

Looking back, I do not know how I managed it… but this particular night, the ‘Night of the Storms’, was a particularly horrendous night!

1720hrs: The lightning and rain started pelting down as I drove up the main drive to the reception, to start work at 1800hrs…

As soon as the staff had shown me the keys for the night’s visitors due, and they shot off during a break in the rain.

Then it started: The first power cut!

Now this was new to me, and I knew the first thing I had to check was the Police Armed Response Vehicle garage, conveniently located at the far West end of the compound, this I did, and returned to inform the police that all was safe with it – then I rang the caretaker, to find out how to reset the boiler, all the time having to fend off enquiries from bar staff, drinkers, students, and tutors about the power cut!

I got my torch, and went into the boiler room, luckily the instructions given me by the caretaker, sat at home watching the Morecombe and Wise show, were clear, and in about five minutes, I’d reset the boiler. After I stumbled about a bit the torch packed up. Grazed chins and a bruised head were acquired within minutes of entering the boiler room.

Back to base (reception area), to find all the flaming alarms were going off – 14 All of them I say!

It took ages, but finally I managed to get them all reset, not without a certain degree of frustration and cursing.

Then the guests arrived, and I fed them, and guided them to their rooms, they were Bulgarian, but somehow I got my messages across.

Then, I thought, ah, I’ll put the kettle on, and get me first patrol in… ‘Oh no!’ The second power cut took place!

This time I was a bit more knowledgeable as to the procedure, and went through it all again.

Then I got calls from students who were locked in the computer room, and archive rooms due to the alarm affecting the locks! So I had to go and release them, and reset the code access controls on the door.

When the bar closed, I escorted the barman with his cash to the safe, and we deposited it safely. Then I went around locking up the library, computer room, archive room, games rooms, Tutors quarters, etc.

By 1100hrs, the staff had all gone, and I hoped things would settle down a bit.

**Incident Report Sheets galore that night – oh dear…**

I took the opportunity to start filling in my incident report sheets – then the third power cut struck!

It was getting hectic now, students wanting to know what was going on, stopping me, phoning me, they even rang the company (For obvious reasons I can’t mention their name here Scan Security) to say they couldn’t find me for help. The night manager contacted me on the RT. What a night!

This time I had no staff to bother me, so got it sorted relatively quickly… all bar an extra alarm that I could not identify had gone off this time! I had to phone the very unhappy at being woken up caretaker again. It turned out it was a hallway picture alarm, but we could not identify which, so I had the pleasure of going around all the halls and staircases, checking the 60 or so pictures/paintings hanging on the walls, to identify which one it was – during this, the forth power cut hit!

I went through the procedures again and then back to searching for the activated alarm on the painting. I managed to find it, and closed the contacts behind it in the hope that I could now reset it at the panel.

So back down two flights of stairs, through the main hall, back into reception to get the keys to the ‘catering managers office’, where I was informed, the panel was located for this alarm.

It was in a walk-in cupboard. I fetched the required keys; the panel was very high on the wall. I had to use a chair to stand on to reach it, but thankfully, it reset okay.

Back to reception, put away the keys, and back to my incident reports, and yes, you’ve guessed it – another power cut!

This time lightning had hit a tree outside the boiler room door, and partly blocked entry – so very sodden and frustrated, I had to haul it out of the way, but everything reset okay again… then I realised I’d forgotten to inform the Leicestershire constabulary control room that all was safe with the ARV garage… so did so, and got a mouthful for being late with the report.

I swore.

As the staff arrived in the morning, nothing looked any different to them, and I had to take the incident reports home with me to finish filling them out.

While doing this at my home, the phone rang, control had received a message from the Catering Manager at the college. It seems I had left a dirty foot-mark on the chair used while I was accessing the mystery alarm panel, and I was now to receive a written warning!

Real worried I was…

Part 21: Inchcock’s True Tales of Woe – Tesco and the Shoplifting Incidents

Tesco and the Shoplifting Incidents

The Shoplifting Bloke with big nose

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.

Part 2: My Beloved Grizelda – Bringing her home

Giselda was about 5’11” tall, around 15 stone (solid with it), lovely black hair, gorgeous wide hips, tree trunk legs that I instantly wanted to wrap myself around for a month or so. I went where no man had gone before… and boy was it good, did I enjoy it or what!

Part Two – Taking her home…

I was getting myself ready to go and pick up Grizelda, as arranged, from the cottage she was staying in for her visit to England to visit her pen friend and my mate’s wife Susan.

As I was shaving, I was already getting palpitations from certain regions of my anatomy, at the very thought of once more gaining access to Grizelda’s foibles and bodily parts. I came out of dream I was in, and thought I’d better give her a ring to make sure all was still on as planned.

Surprisingly when I called, Susan said Grizelda was shaving too.

She passed on the message that she would meet me at the garden gate at 1100hrs.

I arrived, and as I saw her smile break out above that muscular body, I had to control my legs on the clutch.

I got out to meet her, and she picked me up gave me a wonderful slobbering kiss, put me down, and briefly cuddled my groin area and licked my bald head.

I named my old Allegro Estate, Wilhemena. She’s in the garage again here. She went there a lot!

She got into my Austin Allegro estate, the springs were tested as she sat next to me, and adroitly squeezed certain bodily areas of her choice.

We arrived back at the flat, and she did a tour of it and showed her approval.

I was about to make a cuppa and something for us to eat, when she called from the bedroom – that was that ended the cuppa and cakes idea for the moment!

She stood there naked, dominant, hirsute, and demanding attention.

I noticed an empty ‘Huntsman Bourbon Whiskey’ bottle on the bedside table – ‘Highly Suitable’ I remember thinking. She caught me alright… thank the Lord.

I opened my arms and clasped them around her – then did the same to her other leg.

I was thrown on the bed, and encased in her muscular body as she dived on top… ‘twas heaven!

I thought my ribs would have been broken, but didn’t care, as she rolled over and lifted me on top of her.

I licked her armpits, chest, neck, (avoiding the boils) as she turned over again, crushing my pulsing body beneath her now sweating stomach muscles.

Bliss ensued!

The planned trip to the cinema had to be delayed for another day (thankfully) as she was obviously intent and glad to remain available for more romping for the rest of the day!

My submissions that day were pitiful and pleasurable; I reached new heights of delirium in response to Grizelda’s handling of the situation and everything else she handled.

We went and collected her things from the cottage.

From that day, she stayed at my flat for the duration of her holiday… and my pleasure!

The memories of Grizelda are painful – only due to the fact that they are only memories now.

Part 20: A Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe

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.

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

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!

More Tesco Tales to follow…

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

The Dart team’s out of season trip to Southport

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!

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?

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!

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!

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!

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!

The 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…

The 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!)

This 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.

The 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.

I 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.

I 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…

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.

Oh dear…

Part 15 – A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe – Mother’s Singularities

Part 15: Mother’s Singularities

One of the many duties Mummy gave me to do, was one of ‘supply officer’ – I’d get sent around to a neighbour to accrue various supplies, on loan, but of course they rarely if ever got returned.

The items would be, ‘a cup of sugar’, ‘a spoonful of tea’, ‘three slices of bread’, ‘ a knob of Echo (margarine, no one in our Terrace had butter), ‘a cup of milk’, or ‘two fags’ until whichever day she said she would return them.

The responses I would get would differ, but generally they would be: ‘Sod off’, ‘She hasn’t gave me, me bread (or whichever commodity) back from last week yet’, ‘A swift belt around the head and the door slamming to’, or occasionally they would encourage their dog to attack and chew on my leg.’

Oddly enough, I cannot recall any of our neighbours coming to our house to ‘borrow’ food or anything else really.

For a while, apart from the nub collecting, fag making, and hairnet packing etc – I was ensconced into a job in the wood yard, either bundling the wood or collecting scrap from building sites etc.

It was a friend of mothers who owned the yard, and he paid very well… it soon ended when he was sentenced to three years for nicking the wood in the first place.

Mummy Returns – Work Commences

Just as I was about to leave school at 14 years of age, Mummy re-appeared on the scene after a nice 3 year break.

And Dad once more relented and took her back in, a move he much regretted later. (So did I)

Dad got me job as goffer and van lad at Whiteheads Robin Hood Confectionery, Imperial Street, Bulwell. (the building is still standing today. (January 2014)

The wage was £3.3.0 a week (£3.15), for a 50 hour week.

Of course mother got most of it out of me by guile or stealth, to help her with her addiction to the weed, bingo, and betting.

I enjoyed the job, when I was out on the delivery run, a great adventure to me – but the few times when I had to help in the factory – I really liked!

Apart from helping yourself to any toffees in the production lines, it was the women and girls there that made my day, they would help themselves to me whenever they liked!

They would even play with me in the dinner hour and a half.

It reminded me of ‘Auntie Mabel’.

http://leagueofmentalmen.wordpress.com/2014/07/19/the-magical-mysteries-of-auntie-mabel-part9/

But with a little more input from me!

Boy did I get further educated!

I was their toy, and did they enjoy their toy!

If only I could go back to that time…. Ah well, on with the disastrous dilemma of the Tales of Woe.

Several moves of abode

Later, I cannot recall why, most likely they were going to pull the house down before it fell down, but we moved into 52 Ipswich Circus, Sneinton Dale, into a council house.

Couldn’t resist this photo – how many of us can remember the brand packs on show?

I swapped jobs and went to work for Tesco, working my way up to assistant manager eventually.

And I met Sue, the love of my life, and started ‘Courting’.

But I later lost her. Best thing perhaps, because she always deserved better than me.

So, the house was gigantic to me, and the garden enormous!

So big, I built a little shed for my motorbike to go in. (Fair enough it fell down within two weeks, but I did make the effort)

Then after about 10 months or so, I returned home from Tesco one Friday night, pushed my motorbike round the back where the shed used to stand, and went into the house – only to find the lights not working – so I stumbled my way through to the front door lobby where the electricity metre was, digging out a shilling to put in it from my pocket on the way.

As I entered the front room, the light from the street lighting, offered enough illumination for me to see that there was no furniture in the room – nothing but the television set! (and that was on tick from Wigfall’s Pay-Slot Rentals.)

Had we been robbed?

Surely not, they’d be hard pushed to get a tenner for everything in the room.

I made my way to the bottom of the stairs, all the clothes pegs were bare, I went upstairs, everything had gone, curtains, everything, I went back down stairs, thinking I was going mad, was I in the right house?

I opened the front door, looked around, confirmed I was in the right house, turned around to go back in, and then saw the ‘Eviction Notice’ on the door. Mummy had been at it again!

A neighbour, rushed up to me, apologising for missing my arrival, she’d hoped to catch me and break the news to me before I got in the house.

Dad had been given a railway house, and had taken all the stuff with him.

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.

To Follow:

Part 16: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tale of Woe – Inchy goes into an ex-offenders hostel – without realising it!

Part 14: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe – Inchy’s Sporting Highlights

My only Football Match for Meadows Old Boys

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!