THE LURCHER DOG ~ BOSTON STREET ©

THE LURCHER DOG ~ BOSTON STREET

Mi chickens had stopped laying eggs by now so the small amount of money I'd made out of them had all but dried up. It was probably the best thing all around because it was not long before I was due to leave home and go to Australia. There were no more forms to fill in and I'd already been for my medical and was pronounced fit and in good sound health.

The agreement I had with Jim Bailey was to return his money that he had invested in the hens as soon as I killed and dressed them and sold them off to some of the school teachers.

Around this time, Trevor Davies had a friend who wanted to sell one of his Lurcher dogs. He only wanted 10 bob for it. Somehow I managed to scrape together the money. Thinking about it now, I probably sold off some of mi old toys that I would no longer be needing. Trevor said one of his friends would deliver the Lurcher dog at my hen hut on Friday night so I would have to get busy cleaning out the hen shit and scrubbing the walls down so as to make it a suitable home for the Lurcher to live in. Mi mother still had Raja, the Springer Spaniel so there was no chance, whatsoever, that she would let me keep it in the house.

By the time Friday night arrived the new doghouse was spotless and a bag of wood shavings had been thrown around the floor to make it nice and comfortable for mi new Lurcher. As I was waiting for the boy to show up with the Lurcher, I was thinking about how good it would be to walk over the hills again, looking for rabbits and hares. When the boy arrived, I gave him the 10 bob and took possession of the Lurcher. The Lurcher didn't seem to want to stay with me but the boy said, "It's only because he's used to living with other dogs in a shed, just like this one. Don't worry about his trying to get out, he'll get over it in a couple of days."

That evening, I spent a good 3 hours sitting in the new dog shed with the Lurcher. No matter how much love I gave it, the dog just kept right on scratching at the door, trying to get out. In the end, I locked the door so no one could steal it and went off home to have a cup of tea and off to bed.

On Saturday morning, I got up early and went down to me hut to check on mi new dog. Everything looked normal and quiet as I approached the front of the door. I banged on the wooden door a few times to see if the Lurcher was a good guard dog as well as a hunter. After 3 or 4 loud knocks there was no sign of barking so I opened the lock and pushed the door in a little ways so the dog would not bolt through the open doorway. Sticking mi head around the side of the door, to my shock and amazement there was no Lurcher dog in sight.
'Oh Shit!', I thought. 'He's escaped somehow.' When I made a detailed investigation of the shed, I found that he had forced his way through the backside wall of the old shed. In the back wall of the shed was a large piece of tin, which had been nailed on the wall from the outside. The Lurcher must have been jumping up at the tin all night and finally broken the nails out of the old rotting boards and forced his way between the gap and was now long gone!
I had no idea where Trevors' friend lived so I would have to go up to Trevors' house and tell him what had happened. After I found Trevor and told him the story, he said "The dog has been living with other Lurchers for 2 years so it will be difficult to keep it in for a while but it should get used to it. I'll go over to mi friends house. For sure it will have found its way home by now."
"All right Trev.", I said. "You go to your mates place and I'll fix up the shed where he got out and I'll wait for you at the shed. You can bring the dog back there and tonight I'll chain him up so he can't get out again."

All afternoon I worked at making the shed more dog-proofed and by the time I had finished fixing it up much better, it was getting late and no Trevor had arrived. Just as I was about to leave, I saw Trevor walking down the front of Boston Street towards my newly converted doghouse.
"Hello Trevor, where's the Lurcher. Did you find it?"
"No Dick. I went down to mi pals dog hut and they said it had not come back there, but as soon as it does they'll let me know and we can go and pick it up, alright?"
"All right mate. That's about all we can do."

That Saturday evening as I was sat at home, watching the Telly, a knock came on the door. I jumped up and said, "I'll get it. It's probably for me. I'm expecting mi friend Trevor to call." When I opened the door there were 2 strange boys standing there with a large grain bag at their feet. I closed the door behind me so Iris and Jim couldn't hear anything.
"Your name Dick Swindells?", said the biggest boy.
"Yeh, why? What do you want?" I said to him.
"We brought the Lurcher back for you.", he said.
"Oh, that's real good of you, but where is it?"
"It's in the bag, dead.", said the other boy. "Got run over by a car when it was trying to get home to the other dogs."
"Oh shit!", I said. "But why did you bring it here if it's dead!"
" 'cause you bought it from our pal and he says it's your problem now, so here it is. We'll see ya later."
They left the large sack, with the dead Lurcher in it, on mi mums' step, then turned around and walked away, up Boston Street and out of sight.
'Bloody hell, now what do I do? I've lost mi 10 bob and now I've got a dead dog in a sack sitting on mi mums' back step. If she finds out, there will be hell to pay for this. I opened the back door and said to mi mum, "I'll be back in a few minutes, I'm just off down to mi hen shed."
"Don't be more than a quarter of an hour or you'll be in trouble when you get back!", said Jim Bailey.
'In trouble.', I thought. 'I can't get into much more trouble tonight, even if I tried!'
I grabbed he end of the sack and threw it over my shoulder, then made mi way up the street and down to the hen shed. Halfway down the front of Boston Street I ran into a boy called Ernest Hargraves. He was about 18 years old and had red, fiery hair and a face full of freckles. He also wore thick bifocals, which made him look like a real geek. Because he was so big no one ever teased him or anything.
"Where are you going with the sack, Dick? You look like a real burglar", he said.
Earnest was always in trouble with the Police and they came after him for all sorts of crimes, but he was too smart for them, most of the time.
"Hello Earnest. I'm in real trouble now. I've got a dead Lurcher in the sack and I don't know what the hell to do with it and if mi mother finds out, she'll bloody well beat me!"
"What the fucking hell, are you doing with a dead Lurcher in a sack?"
After I explained the whole story to him, he said, "Tell you what I'll do with ya Dick. You give me half-a-crown for some fags and I'll get rid of the dead Lurcher for you."
"I haven't got half-a-crown Earnest."
"OK, you can owe it to me. Pay me in a week or so, I may be really broke by then and half-a-crown will come in right handy!"
As I contemplated it, half-a-crown seemed really cheap. It was not much money in comparison to the big dead problem that was slung across mi back, in a bag.
"It's a deal, Earnest!", I said as I handed him the bag. "But what are you going to do with it?"
"Oh, don't you worry about that Dick. It's my problem now, not yours."
"All right Earnest if you say so. I'll have your money sometime within the week."
We shook hands and parted company.
'What a great bloke Earnest is.', I thought as I walked off back up the street. 'He solved all my problems for half-a-crown and to me that's well worth it'.

     A few nights later, I'd been out playing with a few friends and was now on mi way home. I always had to be aware of the time because Jim Bailey was sat at home, just waiting for me to be late so he could say, "What time do you call this Lad?", but tonight, I had time to spare as I shoved open Boston Street door. As I walked inside, I saw there was a stranger sat on one of the guests' chairs and the house was unusually quiet.
"Hello everybody.", I said, in a rather cheerful voice.
"This gentleman is a Railways Inspector." said mi mum, whose voice was in the fire mode.
"Oh, that's nice." I said. "It must be a really interesting job you have, is it?"
"I'y, it's a great job. There's never a dull moment. I get to investigate all sorts of crimes. Take, for instance, today. About 2 O'clock this afternoon one of the Engineers mates was filling up one of the steam engines with water out of the large overhead water tanks and what do you think he found floating on the top of the water?"
     Now he had aroused my curiosity, so I said, "It could be anything, so I've really got no idea at all."
"Well, in that case let me tell you. The Engineers mate found a dead Lurcher dog."
     The shocked look on my face must have been obvious as Iris, Jim Bailey and the railway inspector all stared at me.
"Would you like to tell me about it Richard?" he said.
    There was no choice but to tell the inspector the whole story, after which he said, "If I was you, I would not have any more dealings with Earnest Hargraves. We know who he is because he's been stealing things from the railways' yard for years but we haven't been able to catch him at it, but seeing as you are supposed to pay him for getting rid of the dog, we may still be able to get our teeth into him at long last."
     After the Railway Inspector left, mi mother hit the roof!
     I never saw Earnest again after that because there was only a few more months to go before I left for Australia, and he never came around the area where I lived anymore.
     That was the last I ever heard of Earnest and the Lurcher.

THE PORNO BOOK SALESMAN ~ BOSTON STREET ©

THE PORNO BOOK SALESMAN ~ BOSTON STREET

     One day, as I was walking down Sowerby New Road, I met Geoffrey, who was coming up the road towards me.
"Hello Dick", he said, as we met. "I haven't seen ya for a while. What have you been up to?"
"Oh not much Geoff. I've had lots of paper work to do and interviews to go on before I get accepted into the Big Brother Movement."
"So you're really going to Australia Dick, are ya?"
"I'y. I don't talk about it much now 'cause all mi other pals think I'm telling lies, so it's best not to say nought about it."
"I'y, ya right Dick. Most of the kids in Sowerby would be jealous of the fact that you're getting out of this place but I'm real happy for you. It will be great to go to another country and you'll probably make a lot of money Dick."
"How's your printing job going?" I asked him.
"Oh really great Dick. Do you want to see a sample of my work?"
     He put his hand inside his coat pocked and pulled out a small booklet and said, "I printed this up in mi lunch hour. Not a bad job, eh?"

     When I opened the book, I saw at once that it was a pornographic comic book. It was about a young girl about 16, who came home late one evening after her father had told her to be in the house at 9 O'clock. As I turned the pages and read the captions, the father said, "Now, I'm going to put you across my knee and give you a good spanking for being a naughty girl and disobeying me." The next page, she was across his knee and the next page he had pulled her knickers down around her ankles. The next page, he was spanking her bare bum and the picture showed a large tuft of pubic hair sticking out and the father had a gleeful look on his face. The comic porn book went on and on, showing the most descriptive pictures I had ever seen.

     The porno comic book amused my 14-year old brain, so I said to Geoff,
"Have you got anymore of these?"
"No, but I can print up as many as I like now 'cause I've got it all set up."
"How much does it cost you to print up each book?"
"Oh probably about half a crown."
"Tell ya what I'll do with ya Geoffrey, you print up 20 books for me and I'll give you 5 bob a book. That's 100% profit, alright?"
"I'y, but what are you going to do with them Dick?"
"I'm going to sell them to the kids at school. It will be no problem at all to get 10 bob a piece for them. Have we got a deal Geoff?"
"When will I get my share?"
"Soon as I've sold 'em, I'll give you your share. I can't give you any money up front 'cause I'm broke but I'm very trustworthy Geoff and I won't rob you, alright?"
"OK. I'll have 20 books for you tomorrow evening. Meet me up at Beachwood Estate at 7 O'clock. See ya later Dick", he said as he walked off up the road.
"See ya later Geoff."

     I walked back home thinking about mi new business that was about to bring me in a lot of money.
The next evening I met Geoffrey at Beachwood Estate and he handed me a small package covered in plain brown paper.
"Thanks Geoff. I'll get your money to you as soon as I get rid of all these books."

     I'd already decided that I would lay all the books out flat under mi mattress so mi mum wouldn't be able to find them, 'cause if she did she would hit the roof!
     As I got close to Boston Street, I went down the front of the house and put the small package of books behind a couple of ferns in the front garden and then I walked around the top of the street and down to our back door.

     Iris and Jim were engrossed in a TV series when I walked in so it was easy to walk through the front room (which was never used), open the front door and retrieve the brown paper package. Once I got them upstairs, I stood mi mattress on end and laid them out flat then let the mattress down into place so they were hidden from view. I always made mi own bed in the mornings before going off to school so mi mum would never find them under the mattress.

     The next morning I took one of the books to school so I could show it around, very discreetly. That way, once the boys saw a couple of pages, I would get rid of 20 books, no problem at all. By the end of the day I had taken orders for 26 books. I would have to get Geoffrey to print up a few more.

     The delivery date was set for Friday, that would give the lads enough time to come up with 10 bob, which was the going rate for a 'fresh-off-the-press' pornographic comic book.
'13 pounds!' I thought to myself. 'The old Stepfather only makes 8 pounds a week for 40 hours work, in a factory. By the time Friday comes, I'll have a lot more money than mi mum and him put together.'

     On Thursday evening, the night before I was due to make my deliveries; I'd contacted all the boys who had ordered a book. Each one of them had got their money together and the deal was to take place early Friday morning before school started, because I didn't want to be carrying around the small brown paper parcel all day.

     As I walked down Boston Street that night on my way home, I was whistling a merry tune. Everything was going like clockwork as I had planned. When I pushed open 25 Boston Streets door and made mi grand entrance, I said to Iris and Jim, "Right on 9 O'clock eh."
"I'll give you 'right on 9 O' bloody clock!" sez mi mum.
"Now what's wrong? I've only been in the house 20 seconds and you're at me already!"
"Where did you get those filthy, bloody pornographic books from?" she said.
"What pornographic books?" I said, with a look of innocence on mi face.
"The pornographic comic books I found under your mattress!"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"20 bloody pornographic books, all neatly stacked up under your mattress Richard! That's what I'm talking about. 20 filthy dirty, bloody porno books that are now stacked and burned up in the fire. That's what I'm talking about!"

     With that, she grabbed the cane and came after me like a mad woman, letting fly with the rod. She attacked me from all sides. I got a whack from the cane for each word she yelled at me and a double whack each time she said the word, 'pornographic'. By the time she finished, I was wishing I had never seen those porno books!
"Next time you ever bring such filth and trash into my clean house, I'll bloody well kill you!"
"You shouldn't have looked at them!". I said. That was the only defense I could think of at the time.
"I didn't look at them. I'm not interested in such crap. I've got my good name to think of."
"Then how did you know what was in them if you didn't read them?"
"I only turned a couple of pages and that was enough for me! What the hell are you doing with 20 bloody, filthy, vile porn books anyway?"
"You've just ruined my new business. I've got orders for all those books and now you've burned them. I'm 10 quid out of pocket!"
"You were going to sell those books for 5 bob each?" she said as she flew at me with the cane again.
"Well, you don't give me enough pocket money to live on. What else do you expect me to do for money?"
"There are a hundred and one bloody things you could do besides selling bloody filth like that! Who the hell did you get such vile filth from anyway?"
     Just for spite, I said to her,
"Geoffrey Thorpe printed them for me. Do you still wish I was a good clean lad like him now?"
"You cheeky little bugger!" she sez, and flew at me with the cane again. "I'll give him a piece of my bloody mind if I ever see him again! Now get up those bloody stairs to bed! You haven't heard the last of this my boy!"
"Come on Luv." sez Jim Bailey. "Don't upset yourself luv. You know what happens to your blood pressure when you get excited."
"I'll give him bloody blood pressure if he ever does anything like that again! I've got a good mind to stop you going to Australia now."
     This was mi mums' latest form of emotional blackmail these days. So I made misen scarce, just in case she meant it this time.

     The next day, my credibility as a good businessman had gone down the drain when the disappointed lads found out what had happened. When I told Geoffrey about how the books had ended up in the fire, he was not too pleased because he was now quite a few pounds out of pocket, from his printing costs. He never spoke to me for at least a couple of months.

     So ended my career as a pornography distributor. In later years I looked back on it and thanked Iris for the beating she gave me. Had it not happened that way, I may have very well been writing this book from behind bars now. This book would have been called;
                              MEMOIRS OF A COMIC PORN DISTRIBUTOR!

BUSKING AT CHRISTMAS ~ BOSTON STREET ©

BUSKING AT XMAS ~ BOSTON STREET

     Mi mum had given her consent for me to go to Australia with the Big Brother Movement so I was now in the middle of sending forms backwards and forwards to London. The whole process took about a year to complete.

     Bruce Whipp, the Australian who used to live next door to us, had already packed in his job and taken his Yorkshire wife and 3 small children back to Australia. Before he had left he said to me that as soon as he had an address and phone number he would send it on to me and being true to his word, I had his letter in my top drawer in mi bedroom.

     It was almost Christmas now. The weather had turned icy cold and it looked like we were all in for a cold, hard Yorkshire winter. I had decided to make this Christmas mi last one with Elland Silver Band because as well as leaving home for Australia I had lost a lot of interest in playing Brass Band music. I would be 15 soon and the thought of going to Australia consumed the interest I'd had in the Brass Band.

     I would tell most of mi friends at school, "I'll be leaving school earlier than you lot because I've been accepted in a program that takes boys under 18 to Australia and finds work for them on farms and out in the Bush,"
"You're only joking with us Dick-lad.," they'd say. "You won't be leaving school before we do. You'll be stuck in Sowerby Bridge for the rest of your life, the same as us, so why do you persist in spinning us all a big yarn?"
"All right. I won't say another word about it. You're right and I'm wrong. I'll be leaving school the same day as you lot!"
"That's better Dick. It's unheard of to leave school before your time and whoever heard of a 15-year-old boy going to Australia on his own! But, we've got to hand it to you Dick; you sure can spin a good yarn. Where do you think them up from?"
"Just joking lads." I said.
"Yeah, let's play 'closest to the wall'.

     As it got closer to Christmas, Elland Band got ready for the Christmas Carol Busking day. Every 25th of December we would all get together as a band and play Christmas carols in the streets and this 25th was no exception. One of the older band members picked me up in Sowerby Bridge 'cause the double decker buses did not start to run till late on Christmas morning. When we were all ready, present and organized we set off up the road, marching and playing in our bright red & gold uniforms. Against a background of pure white snow, no one could miss seeing or hearing us as we stood at the top of the terraced streets and played everybody's favorite Christmas carols.

     We always took about 10 band friends along with us and their job was to walk down the streets with the collection boxes and knock at the doors.
"Merry Christmas from Elland Silver Prize Band!", they'd say as the people smiled and put a couple of shillings into the collection box.

     Now, prior to the 25th, I had decided to do some busking around the streets with mi trumpet to see how much money I could make for Christmas. I said to mi pal, Steven Powell,
"Do you want to make some money tonight?"
"What do I have to do for it?", he said.
"I'm going out busking with mi trumpet so if you want to come along here's what we'll do."

     After I explained the procedure to him, he liked the idea. We decided to meet halfway between this house and mine.

It was a really cold night and the snow was falling in large fluffy flakes as we trudged through the snow to an area I knew of a few miles away. When we eventually arrived in the high-class area, I said to Steven, "We come here because terraced-houses only contain poor people. In this area they're all rich 'cause they live in semi-detached houses or bungalows, so here's the plan. We go to the first door and you knock and as soon as they open it, I'll start to play a Carol on mi trumpet and you start to sing. While you're singing along with me, take this tin I brought with me and stick it under their noses. Make sure you smile 'cause I can't smile and play trumpet at the same time. Oh, and try to look cold and shivery. That's a good one. It always sucks 'em in!"

     By the time an hour had passed we had quite a few bob rattling up and down in the tin. Steve and me had a great time that evening, even though it was freezing cold and we were covered in snow. It was so cold that at one point we knocked on a door and waited. As soon as it opened, I put the trumpet to mi lips and played the first two G's to Good King Wenceslas. When I went to push the first and second valves down to make an A, the valves on the trumpet had frozen up so this horrible noise came out of the Bell and we heard a baby start to cry from upstairs. As the door fully opened, an angry young woman appeared. Out of fear, Steve stuck our collection tin under her nose and kept singing. Steve was not much of a singer so the woman said, "Shut that ghastly noise up! You should learn to sing before you go out busking and as far as your friends' trumpet playing goes, he'd have been better off leaving it at home, 'cause all he's done with that noisy, obnoxious thing is to wake up my baby!! Here's 2 bob.", she said as she gave us both a dirty look. "Now bugger off and don't come back here again or I'll call the cops!"
I couldn't help myself so I started to laugh at the situation. "Come on Steve, the lady does not appreciate good music when she hears it!"
"I'll 'good music' you two rascals if you come knocking on my door again this Christmas!"

     "Let's go down the road a-ways Steve. There's some more bungalows that I know of. I'll have to take mi trumpet valves out first and spit on 'em to get 'em going."
"Why don't you put some oil on 'em Dick. It'll save you spitting on them?"
" 'Cause valve oil is no good in cold weather. It makes 'em stick worse. They'll be all right in a minute and as soon as I've got 'em freed up I'll just have to keep them moving as we're walking along. Let's go to that big house at the end of that street.", I said to Steve as we trudged on through the cold evening.
"All right, same procedure Dick?"
"Same procedure Steve. As soon as the door starts to open, we'll play. 'We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, then smile and rattle the tin and don't be shy about rattling the tin. The noise of the tin reminds them we're not just here for the good of our health or to play for free. That's how Elland Band does it and it always works, so give it a good hard rattle. Are you ready?"
"Ready Dick."
"All right, knock now. Wait till they come. I can hear their footsteps but don't make a sound yet."
The large ornate door handle started to turn.
"Now Steve!", I said.
I struck up the first few notes of 'We wish you a Merry Christmas', and Steve was right with me. He was also in key, which made a change for him. As soon as the big door swung open Steve's mouth fell open and he stopped singing. I had the habit of closing my eyes when I played so I opened them to find out why he was not singing and rattling our collection tin as we had planned. I almost stopped playing myself when I saw who was blocking the light from the open door. It was Mr. Miles, our school Headmaster! I don't know who got the greatest shock, him or us. 'Screw him.' I thought. 'It's Christmas'! I stamped on Steve's toe and he immediately came out of shock and started to rattle the tin and sing at the top of his voice, in another key.
"All right, you've made your point!", said Miles. "How much is this little prank going to cost me?"
"Most people give as much as they can afford Sir.", I said.
"I should have known you'd say that Swindells before I asked!"
Miles was now well and truly hooked. If he didn't cough up, he knew that I'd tell everyone at school what a Scrooge he was. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of money. He took a half crown and dropped it through the rough cut-out slot of Steves' tin.
He was just about to put his money away, when I said, "Sir, there's two of us." He gave me one of his famous 'school Headmaster looks' and then dropped another half crown into the tin.
"Would you like us to finish the song Sir?", I said.
"I don't think so Swindells. I think my Christmas holiday has been well and truly ruined enough."
"Well, thank you very much Sir. I hope you have a very merry Christmas."
He wasted no time closing the big door. As soon as me and Steve got out of earshot, we burst into sidesplitting laughter.

     That evening, cold as it was, we were now 3 pounds each better off and for all the canings we'd each received from old Miles over the years, we now felt like we were one-up on the sadistic old bugger!

GEORGE THE BOOZER~ BOSTON STREET ©

GEORGE THE BOOZER

     When I got back to Boston Street, it was about midnight. I didn't need the key mi mother had given me because the lights were still on. As soon as I touched the doorknob the door came open and mi mothers' sour face was looking at me.
"What are you doing still up? It's just after 12, ya should be in bed. Where's Jim?"
"He's in bed. He was tired."
"So why didn't ya go with him?"
"I can't sleep knowing your out of a night time. Ya want a cuppa' tea?"
"No thanks Mum, it's a bit late for tea."
"I suppose you've had too much beer with ya father?"
"Listen Mum, it doesn't have to be like this. I'm 21 now. I've been away for 6 years."
"I'y. I wish you'd stayed away now."
"What do ya mean by that?"
"Well, what I don't know doesn't hurt me, does it? I thought you were going to come home as a real nice boy but you're nothin' but a boozer like ya father!"
"It's how I live my life mother. I don't tell you how to live your life, do I?"
"Ya don't have to, 'cause I don't drink."
"Everyone I know drinks beer. It's only a way of socializing."
"I don't have to drink beer to socialize."
"No, maybe your friends don't drink beer, so I guess you don't."
"Well, I don't like it Richard and I don't know how long I can put up with your drinking, lad."
"I've only been home 2 days and 1 night, Mother. What are you talking about?"
"Well, you could have taken me out to dinner tonight somewhere. Instead you prefer to go out boozing with your father."
"All right, I'll take you out somewhere tomorrow night."
"Ya can't. Ya boozing pals are coming for ya tomorrow night."
"OK then, we'll go out the following night."
"Don't bother Richard. I'd hate to put you to any trouble."
"Listen Mother, I don't know what's wrong with you, but you can't blame your state of mind on my behavior. I thought you were happy since you got married to Jim?"
"I've got no complaints with Jim, it's just that you've been away for so long."
"Had you not have left mi Dad and not got married to another bloke, it would have been my duty to look after you when I left school and that I would have gladly done , but you chose to marry another man, which I don't mind, that's your business. But once you did that, don't expect to put the guilts on me that I left home when you needed me!"
"What else could I do? I had to marry someone else or we wouldn't have been able to live on one wage."
"Other women did. Not every woman with kids gets married again, especially if she's got 3 older kids."
"Then what kind of a life would that have been for us?"
"Maybe a better one than I lived, once we left mi Dads."
"How can you say that when Jim was good to you?"
"Yeah, sure Mum. You've got a very short memory when it suits ya!"
"What do you mean by that Richard?"
"Did you forget about the 'stiff arms' he gave me and mi sisters? And what about the times he made us stay home, night after night? Also when he pushed me down the stairs!"
"But he brought ya all those clothes and gave ya money so you could go to Australia."
"Yeah, that's true. I wonder why?"
"How can you insinuate that Richard? Jim loved you like his own."
"He never had any kids of his own to my knowledge, so where do ya get the comparison from?"
"You know what I mean Richard. Don't be smart."
"Listen Mother and listen very carefully. You left my Dad to get married to another man and you expected the 3 of us to call him dad. Well, he isn't my Dad. I'm not complaining and I don't feel angry or guilty about anything 'cause it's all over. You got what you wanted out of life. My life was ruined, so don't tell me how to live my life anymore. If you're happy with Jim then what are you doing up at this time of night?"
"I told you, I couldn't sleep."
"Well, you'll get a chance now 'cause I'm going to bed. There's nothing more to say. You live your life and let me live mine. Good night, see you in the morning."
     That evening, as I laid in my old room, I felt really fuckng angry now and I refused to have mi Mother dump her guilt on me 'cause I could tell she wasn't happy. Jim Bailey was a decent bloke for marrying her but she knew and I knew that he couldn't hold a bloody candle up to George. He isn't half the man that George is and never will be.
     I look like my father and I drink beer like he does so I guess that I remind her of things that she'd sooner forget. I thought that things would be different if I came home for a holiday but It looks like I was wrong. So all I could do now was to continue to be myself and see what happens.
      The next morning the household was pretty tense. Sandra said to me,
"Ya fancy a walk Richard?"
"What a good idea Sandra. I'll grab mi coat and I'll be with you in a couple of shakes."

GEORGE (PART 1) ~ 36 JUBILEE TERRACE©

GEORGE - PART 1 ~ 36 JUBILEE TERRACE

"Hello George", said an elderly woman who passed us on the street. "Who's the young lad with ya? " "That's mi lad. He's come to visit me from Australia."
"Who's that?" I asked mi dad as we walked away?" "She's one of mi new neighbours, lad. She's only been here 6 years. She's a nosy old cow too. She'll go and tell the whole bloody neighborhood now that mi son's come home. I'll probably be on the 7 O'clock news tomorrow night!"
"She seems to like ya Dad."
"Bolox! All she's after is mi bloody pension and someone to do her fetchin' and carryin'. Her old man died a couple of years back and now she's lookin' for another bloody mug. It won't be old George Swindells, I can tell ya that for nought!"
Once we got to the bus stop we walked around in circles, stamping our feet on the ground to warm 'em up.
"Look out lad, here comes our bus. Stick ya hand out or he won't stop..he's in too much of a bloody hurry."
     It was an enjoyable bus ride with mi dad. He even came upstairs with me so I could have a fag. The upper deck was almost empty so he had no complaints about the smoke. It didn't take long before the bus came to a squeaking halt at Sowerby Bridge and pretty soon mi dad and I were walking through the front door of West End Club.
"Evening George." said the club doorman. "It's gonna be a bitter cold night. It's just as well we've got the heat cranked up. Are you a member young fella?"
Before I could answer, mi dad said, "Is he buggery Jack, this is my lad. He's just come over from Australia for a holiday. I'll sign him in."
     Once I was signed in, the doors of the club were open to me so we went inside and ordered 2 pints of Websters Best, then found ourselves a table for the evening. It was about 7 O'clock and the club was empty except for a couple of bar flies who had resigned themselves to seats so as to make it through the evening.
"It's a bit of a dead place, isn't it Dad?"
"It's only 7..they don't start comin' in until 7:30. By 8, ya won't see an empty seat in this place. At 8:15 there's an act on so it's bound to fill up."
"What kind of an act is on tonight?"
"Oh, some bloody comedian-singer. I saw his poster as we came in. His name's Eddy Mac or something of the other."
"Is he any good?"
"Buggered if I know lad. I haven't heard him before, but if he's ought like the other buggers we'd may as well not have him. There's mi old mate Gavin comin'. His old lady must have let him off the leash early tonight."
"Evening George lad. How are ya?"
"Same as always Gavin. How would you expect me to be?"
"Just askin' George. Ya know my old backs' been playing up something terrible this week."
"Suppose you've been diddlin' that old wench of yours again, have ya?"
"Don't be silly George, it's probably healed up as far as I know."
"So you say Gavin. If ya not getting ought, how come she's still pushing ya around?"
"That's just her way George. I'm used to that by now. I've been married to her for 40 years."
"That's 39 years too bloody long Gavin. Go and get yourself a pint and come and sit ya self down before ya fall down."
"I take it that's one of ya drinking mates Dad?"
"I'y, I've known him for years lad. He's mi drinkin' mate when he's allowed out and when he's not down at the club, he's a bloody house-wife for that wench of his."
Gavin came back over and sat down at our table. He took a mouthful out of his pint and went. "Haaaa! So who's the young bloke ya with George? Aren't ya gonna introduce us?"
"Who the hell does he look like Gavin? Have a good bloody look?"
"He looks a lot like you George, now I take a bit more notice."
"Course he looks like me. He's mi son!"
"I thought your lad was in Australia, George?"
"He was. Now he's here. He's come over to see me. His name's Richard."
"My name's Gavin, good to meet ya Dick. So you're Georges' lad eh?"
"You're a bit more handsome than ya Dad, far as I can tell."
"Bolox Gavin!" said mi Dad. "If he looks as good as me when he's 75, he'll be doin' all right, but if he keeps smoking those bloody fags like they're going out of fashion, he might not see 24, never mind 75?"
"Don't listen to him Dick. I've known ya dad for 40 bloody years. He was just the same as you when he was a young'un. He smoked like a bloody chimney."
"That's when I was young and bloody stupid Gavin, just like him."
"Where's ya old girlfriends George, haven't they shown up yet?"
"Girlfriends mi bloody arse Gavin. They come and sit at my table uninvited. What the hell am I supposed to say, Piss Off!"
"Oh no George, they'd never buy ya another beer again if ya said that."
"I suppose a man should. They're always trying to get a bloody foot in my front door."
"Maybe it would be good for ya George."
"Bolox Gavin! Ya think I want to end up like you, on a bloody chain. Ya must be jokin' man."
Just then, two old ladies with curled and dyed hair walked over to the table.
"Evening George, hello Gavin. Ya saved our places I see."
"We saved nothin'. The club put 'em there. We just didn't bother to shift 'em." said Dad.
"George", said the big fat one, "We know you better than that. Who's the young fella anyway?"
"It's mi lad. Ya can keep ya eyes off him too, Neither of us are available."
"My names Maude and this is my pal Gert. Ya father's full of jokes ya know. He couldn't do without us really."
"Don't bloody bet on it or you'll lose ya pension money." said George.
"Gavin, go and get us 2 half-pints please.", said Maude.
"Tell 'em to fetch their own beer Gavin. Ya only get one night out as it is." said George.
"Oh it's all right George, I don't mind."
"Please ya sen then. Bigger bloody fool you!"
"You're grumpy tonight George. Did ya lose on the races?" said Gert.
"Well, I didn't win, put it that way."
     So that's how I spent that first evening with mi Dad. He seemed to be quite happy having a few beers with people his own age that obviously adored him. Once the club closed down for the night, I walked mi Dad down to the bus stop and made sure he caught his last bus home to Jubilee Terrace.

DROWNING IN BLACKPOOL ©

     As a child, I went with the family to Blackpool, (a seaside resort). I was 6 years old and boys being boys, I decided to go in the Ocean for a swim. Conveniently, I forgot that my idea of swimming was to flop my arms and kick one leg, the other keeping good contact with the bottom of the small swimming pool in Sowerby Bridge in Yorkshire. I was doing quite well until a large wave rolled clean over the top of me and then proceeded to drag me out about 20 feet or so. When I felt for the bottom it was gone! I immediately sunk down about 15 feet and there I found the bottom. Horrendous fear and panic arose as I had swallowed, what I perceived to be, half of the Atlantic Ocean. Somehow I struggled to the surface and before I could catch a breath another wave went over me.

There was a small boat about 10 feet away from me with 6 or 8 tourists, laughing and joking as they waited to go out for a trip. The fear, desperation and uncontrollable panic stopped me from crying out for help. I did my best but nothing came out, except seawater. Down I went for a second
time and hit the bottom again.

     This time I met the God of Death. He said to me,
"You're going to die today. I'll be waiting for you!"
     At that stage, I think I pissed miself. Somehow, I got to the surface again. Once there I focused on a young man I could see in the boat. I had been taught to pray, so in a nano-second I prayed, pleaded and begged for my life to be saved. My prayer went so,
" Please, please, please save me God! I will do anything you tell me to do for the rest of my life if You will please save me!!
     At that point I went down for the third time. The pain in my head and lungs was now at bursting point. As far as I was concerned my life was over before it had really begun and I knew He was at the bottom waiting for me. As that thought flashed through the mind, a hand grabbed my hair and yanked me to the surface. The next thing I remember was coughing up the Atlantic Ocean in the relative safety of the small boat.

     The young man, who I had focused on, just before I went down again, had hauled me out.
"Are you alright son?" he asked. "Are you OK?"
"I'm alright." I coughed and blurted out.
"Where's your mother? I'll take you back to her."
"No, please mister. Don't tell mi mum. She'll kill me. I'm not supposed to go in the water!"

     Once he saw I was all right, he turned the boat around and put me on the beach. When I got back to where my mother was sitting, she said,
"Where the bloody hell have you been, you little bleeder? Have you been in that bloody water when I told you not to?"
"No mum, only paddling."
"Stay here now with me and don't go bloody wandering off on your own. And don't go in that bloody water again. People who can't swim have drowned in the water. I'm sure you don’t want to experience that do you?"
"No mum." I said.

     From that day to this, I have lived on borrowed time. I have also kept the promise I made. There has been many times over the years that I questioned my plea for help. Regardless of that I am still here, following His orders. The first time I heard that voice again, (after Blackpool) it said to me, "Leave this place and go to Australia."

By the way, tattooing my head was not my bright idea. I'll give you one guess who thought that one up!

VISITING FROM AUSTRALIA ~ BOSTON STREET ~ JOHNNY LODGE ©

PROLOGUE

     It was the end of 1971 and I was 22 years old. Shearing had come to an end for another season. I was still getting tear-stained letters from my mother which were designed to invoke emotional blackmail in me. 

     I had made quite a bit of money shearing so I decided to go back to England for a short holiday. My thinking was I would somehow like to create a relationship with my mother which would be based on two adults communicating with each other rather than her treating me as teenager which she did, in her letters. 

      I had only been back at her house for a couple of days when a few school chums I knew knocked on the door. After a few minutes conversation they invited me to go out drinking with them at a one of the local pubs that evening. 

After they left, my mother said,

"Who was that then?"

"A few old school chums.", I said. "They've invited me to go out for a few beers with them tonight."

"Well, don't think you're coming home here drunk like your father did. I had enough of that, living with him!"

      The day went on with my step-father Jim sitting in his rocker and my mother fussing around the house. My sister, Sandra, and I laughed and joked around with each other. The time came for me to get ready to go out or I'd be late. I threw on some good clothes just in time for the knock on the back door.

"See ya later everybody.", I said in a cheery voice and walked toward the door.
"What time are you coming home tonight Richard?"
"I have no idea mother so don't wait up for."
"I'll have my house key back then."
"What? How will I get in when I come home?"
"We go to bed at 11 O'clock here so if you're not home by then the house will be locked."
"Suit ya self!", I said as I threw the keys on the table.

     Now I was really pissed and angry. Once I got outside with mi couple of school chums, who I hadn't seen for years, since I'd  left to go to Australia.  I put the domestic garbage of mi mothers' houses aside and went off for a good night out.
     It was great being out with my two pals and their wives, although I felt a bit left out because everyone I met was married with children. Not that they put any crap on me, they were generous to the max and asked me all about my life in Australia.
    That evening we drank a lot of beer at the Star Hotel in Upper Sowerby Bridge. I met a bloke, John Lodge, who I'd been somewhat 'pally' with at Ryburn School. He was a very short bloke and like most short men he had a complex about it. A real chip on his shoulder!
     As the night went on he got into some trouble with 3 blokes from another area. So muggins-me, thinking I was still in Australia where mates are real mates, walked over to where they were standing at the bar. The three blokes were threatening to punch his head in, so I said,
"Ya having problems, Johnny?"
"Yeah Dick, these 3 blokes are hassling me."
"Leave him alone fellas. He's not on his own now. There's two of us!"
"Great!", said one bloke, then hauled off and punched me in the face. I shook my head and said, "Good shot mate! Now it's my turn!"
     I cracked him in the head with a big right hand and arse over head he went, but next minute found me on the floor with his two mates on top of me! All I remember was rolling around on the barroom floor, under the round tables. There were punches flying everywhere and most of 'em were aimed at me! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John Lodge crawling away under the tables, out of harms way.
"Hey! Where are you sneaking off to, Johnny?", I called.

     He never looked back. Once he was away from the fight he kept going. Straight out the door!

     When it was finally over, I was in a right mess. Although the three blokes had various injuries, I'd caught a few punches myself mainly with my face. Steve and Colin helped me clean up a bit but nothing could repair my shirt which was covered in blood, with a big tear down the front.
     I walked home alone that evening vowing to myself not to help anyone else when it wasn't my problem. My bigheartedness and sense of loyalty had yielded me a fat lip, a bloody nose and a bruised cheek.
     'Iris is not going to like this',  I thought, as I walked down the cobblestone street towards her house.
     When I tried the door it was locked and the lights were out. It was about 1:30 and there was a thick layer of frost covering the house walls. I started to feel the cold now as I was only wearing a thin shirt and a cardigan. It was obvious to me that she would blow her brains if I knocked at this time, so I decided to look for some shelter or another way into her house. I tried the lower window but it was firmly locked. The coal cellar shute was wet and black from coal dust, so that was out of the question. The only other option I could see was to sit on the outside toilet until the morning and do the best I could to keep myself from freezing to death.
     By about 4 O'clock my false teeth were chattering so badly they were keeping me awake so I took 'em out and put them in my pocket. It was one of the longest and most uncomfortable nights I think I've ever had. The temperature was below zero but somehow I managed to make it.
     The back door opened at 7 when Jim Bailey came out for the milk. It took me a few minutes to get the stiffness out of my joints.  I walked in the house as if nothing mattered at all.
     When mi mother saw me she hit the roof. I was in no mood for any of her lectures so I walked off upstairs to wash up and change mi clothes. Once I was cleaned up I felt a lot better so I lay down on mi bed for a few minutes and before long the daydream dissolved into darkness.
      I woke up a few hours later, washed mi face, combed mi hair and went downstairs. When I walked into the kitchen, my suitcase was sitting next to the back door.
"Who put mi suitcase there?"
"I did.", said Jim Bailey.
"What for?"
"Because you're leaving!"