A diary of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, cock-ups, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter 35 - Vehicular Venialia's Having owned many different types of motorbikes for many years, I thought it a good idea to buy a three-wheeler car, that I could drive with legally, on my motorbike licence. I eventually got a Reliant Robin (brown), W reg. Apart from still wanting...
A diary of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, cock-ups, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter 33 - Security Guard - I Call for backup I was working as a static security guard in Nottingham, at a furniture making factory. The company had asked for a security officer, as an end wall to the factory, had been hit by a fork lift, and it had collapsed. So security was comp...
A diary of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, cock-ups, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter 32 - The Night of Storms So there I was, out of work for the first time. In those 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! I was posted to the Co-op college out in th...
A diary of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, cock-ups, and poverty, that started in August 1947 Chapter 30 - The Rats I was working at the Nottingham Cooperative Society's Co-op House on Upper Parliament Street, in the food hall, as general dogsbody, and goffer. I was sent down to the cellars below, to lay mouse traps and rat poison, in an effort clear the place of the lit...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Dart team's weekend 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 y...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Twenty-seven: My first Angling Match I 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. B...
I would like to offer some advice/tips, for the owner of the Light Blue TGA Breeze 4 Ultimate Mobility Scooter, that I unthinkingly attacked as it ran over me here in the Nottingham shopping centre today 17th September 2011. During a shopping expedition, I was stood, carrier bags by my side, resting my arthritic knee, and coping with the sternum pains from my cardiac operation, leant on my walk...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Twent-six: Into the offenders relocation digs The next day, I went off to work at Tesco, and after while I got call from dear mummy. 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...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Twenty-four: Mummy Returns - Work Commences Just as I was about to leave school at 14 years of age, Mummy re-appeared on the scene after about 3 years. 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...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Twenty-two: SPORTS: 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 h...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Twenty: Mummy Returns Again Mummy returned: full of the usual false compassion and commitment. The real surprise was she bought me a little red haired puppy dog! Because of its colouring, I called it 'Rusty', my first and last dog. It lived in a Heinz bean box behind the chair in the...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Seventeen: Mummy Flees Again - the Bailiffs Call Yes you've guessed it, dear mummy did yet another bunk. However, the events this time, were more interesting: the night after she left, dad and I were sat by the fire, when the door was knocked upon, Dad (a rarity when I was available) an...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Thirteen: Just one of Dad's famous 'Nice Walks' Dad thought it was a treat to take me on a marathon walk occasionally. We'd take no food, just a bottle of tap water. We'd walk for miles and miles, always eventually stopping near an orchard in, Bingham, Plumtree, Ruddington, or Bunny, th...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Eleven: A Penny for the Pain Dad, being Dad, he spent nothing if it could be avoided; he even used to pull my teeth with his cobbling pliers…
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Nine: Mother does another bunk again Dad insisted that I came home from school, cleaned out the fire grate, chopped some wood, and laid the fire in readiness for his arrival home from work. He considered it a waste of money if I lit the fire before he got in. Also I was to ready a meal...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Eight: The Magical Marvellous Mystery of Auntie Mabel Note: I originally intended to leave this emprise out of this story, 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! One Friday night, mother dear gently...
A story of one man's utter failure, depression, frustration, and poverty, starting in August 1947 Chapter Five: The Backyard and my burning hair Our row of soot covered old terrace houses, backed up lopsided against the railway viaduct that carried the main London railway-line and others, with Arkwright Street Station above our house, with a narrow back yard, outside toilets and coal houses bu...
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