MI FIRST PAID JOB ©

 MI FIRST PAID JOB 

 Not long after we’d moved into Jubilee Terrace, I was on one of the many errands I ran for mi mum. As I walked through Ripponden, I was reading through the shopping list mi mum had given me. When I saw a notice on the newspaper mans’ shop door. It said:

WANTED

BOY FOR NEWSPAPER DELIVERIES.

APPLY WITHIN

     I stood reading the notice for a few minutes as I thought about the possibility. ‘Why not’, I thought. ‘It can’t hurt to ask and if he sez ‘NO’, I’ve lost nowt’.

     The bell above the glass door tinkled as I pushed it open and went inside.
“Can I help ya?”, sez an old grey-haired lady.
“I’ve come about the job advertised on your door.”
“Just a minute, you need to speak to my husband.”

     Her husband was at the back of the shop writing in a large book. As she spoke to him, he looked up at me, over the top of his half-frame glasses. Pushing his chair back from the desk, he came over to the counter and said,
“Mi wife sez you’ve come about the newspaper round.”
Yes, can you tell me something about it first?”

     The Newsagent was a small man with a large, balding head. His eyebrows were very bushy and a long yellow pencil stuck out from behind his ear. He wore a collarless shirt. Over the shirt he wore a maroon jacket with several more pens and pencils sticking out of the top pocket. His hands were quite dirty from the ink off the newspapers and on his thumb he wore a rubber thimble with tiny points protruding out of it.

“How old are you lad?”
“10 and-a-quarter”, I sez.
“Oh that’s good, cause you’ve got to be over 10 to hold a paper-round. Have you ever delivered papers before lad?
“No, this will be mi first time.”
“Well, that doesn’t matter. We can always train you up for a week or two. Are you honest?”, He says, as his bushy eyebrows came together when he peered down at me over his specs.
“Course, I am! I haven’t stole nout in mi whole life.”
“Very good. That’s what I like to hear because Saturday mornings you’ll have to collect the money for the weeks papers and if you’re short, it’ll come out of your wages…do you understand?”
“Yes.”, I sez.
“Alright lad, just let me talk it over with my missus. What’s your name anyway?”
“Richard.”
“Mine's Mr. Sutcliff. I won’t be long.”

     Mr. Sutcliff turned and went over to his wife and had a chat to her. As they were talking, I noticed her look over at me a couple of times. Each time she looked, she gave me a faint smile. After they finished talking, Mr. Sutcliff came back over to the counter and said,
“The job’s yours, if ya want it lad.”
“Alright.”, I sez. I’ll let you know first thing in the morning cause I’ll have to ask mi mum first.”
“Make sure ya come back early in the morning and let me know or I’ll have to find someone else. I hope you’re good at getting up in the morning cause I’ll expect you here Monday till Saturday at six o’clock sharp. The job pays 10 shilling a week. See you tomorrow morning. Oh, and one more thing, don’t ever let me catch you pinching sweets off the counter when you think I’m not looking cause I’ve got eyes in the back of mi head!”
     I gave him a smile and said, “So has mi mum and so have I.”

     The bell tinkled as I opened the door and as soon as it closed and there was no one looking I jumped in the air and stuck mi 2 clenched fists skywards!

     After I’d done mi mums’ errands, I ran home with the shopping as fast as I could. As soon as I got in the back door, I yelled out for mi mum.
“Hey mum, mum!”
“I’m upstairs, in the bedroom!”, came the loud reply.
I bounded up the stairs, two at-a-time and into her bedroom where she was cleaning.
“Hey mum, guess what?”
“Hey Richard, guess what?”. She sez.
“What?”, I sez.
“Guess what you’re gonna’ get if you don’t learn to walk up those bloody wooden stairs more quietly. Old Mrs.Dicksen, next door has had a headache, nonstop, since you kids came to live here.”
“Hey mum, I’ve just got mi'sen mi first paid job!”
"What the hell are you talking about now lad?”
"Old Mr. Suttcliff gave me a job delivering newspapers for him."
"Oh that's nice. He just happened to know who you were and came up to you on the street and said, would you like to deliver newspapers for me?"
"More or less."
"You must think I came down in the last bloody shower Richard! Now, what really happened?"

     After I told her about going in his shop for the interview, I said,
"Can I do it mum, please?"
"Oh, I see you've learned some manners all of a sudden lad. And who, may I ask, is going to get you out of bed in the mornings for this new job of yours and what, pray may I ask,
time do you have to be there?"
"Not till six O'clock Monday till Saturday."
"Six O-bloody-clock! You have a hard job getting out of bed in the mornings at 7:30 and if I was fool enough to bring you a bucket upstairs for a pee you'd still be there at lunchtime! How much is he going to pay you for the job?"
"10 shillings a week - cash!"
"And what do you suppose you're going to spend 10 shillings a week on besides sweets and fags, or shouldn't I ask?"
"I haven't thought about it yet. I was just too excited about getting the job."
"When do you have to let him know by?"
"Tomorrow morning, early, 'cause if not, he'll give the job to someone else."
"And what about school or did you forget about that?"
"I didn't forget. He's gonna' give me all the details tomorrow but the job must finish in time for school because he has other boys who deliver for him too."
"Go back and see him tomorrow and tell him, before ya mum says yes, she wants to know more details, alright?"

     After the details were worked out and mi mum agreed to me doing the paper round, as long as I saved all the money I made to buy misen some new clothes.

     Monday morning came and I was at Mr. Sutcliffs shop at 5:55. All the mornings' newspapers had been stacked in order of delivery, and then put into a large brown canvas paper carrier with a shoulder strap and a big flap that covered the papers so as to keep them dry on wet mornings.

     At around 6:05 a little bit older boy than myself arrived who was going to teach me the paper round. He spoke to Mr. Sutcliff for a few seconds, and then Mr. Sutcliff scolded him for being late again. Turning to me, the boy said,
"OK, let's go!"

     As we walked out the shop, I was thinking about what he said. He said "OK"…OK was not allowed in our house. If I ever said, "OK", mi mum would chuck a fit.
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to in that American slang? OK is not a word. It's not even English and you're certainly not a bloody yank, so don't let me hear you using that garbage language again or you'll get a bloody thick ear! Do you understand me?"

"I'll carry the bag today kid and you carry it tomorrow, OK?"
"Alright, it sounds fair enough to me"
"If you watch me you'll be able to finish the round in about an hour and 20 minutes. If not, it'll take you 2 hours, OK?"

     As we took off walking he said, "First, you got to learn how to throw the paper so it doesn't unroll but don't get caught 'cause if old 'Sooty' finds out, you'll get the boot like me, OK? Now, this house has a big dog so be careful 'cause if he gets hold of you he'll rip ya balls off. OK? This house, has two old ladies who are almost deaf so don't bother to chuck the paper here. I go through the gate and leave it on the step, then steal a bottle of milk on the way out, OK?"

     On and on we went until we finally came to the end of the paper round. By this time we were well passed a place called Cunning Corner.
"What now?", I said.
"Sooty gives me some bus fare so I can ride back to Ripponden on the bus but if you want to run back we can spend the fare on some fags and split 'em, half & half. OK?"
"OK"
"Now you're talkin' my language!"
Off we ran at top speed, back to Ripponden to another shop that he knew of where we bought some Woodbines with the bus fare.
"Why aren't you doing the round anymore?"
"Well, old Sooty caught me stealing some of the collection money, plus I got a better round with the other shop. More money and more perks! OK?"
"OK, see you in the morning."

     It didn't take very long for me to learn the paper round and although it was a very difficult job I enjoyed the fact that I was now earning some money. Oldham Road was a long, flat, windy road that went around a big hairpin corner at Slithero Bridge. Seeing as mi dad went to work much earlier these days, sometimes I'd run into him on mi way back from the paper round. On occasions Mr. Sooty would sometimes make a mistake and put too many papers in my bag, so at those times, I felt quite good about giving mi dad a free mornings' newspaper.

     When the weather was fine, the paper round was fine and when the weather was bad the paper round was also bad! On occasion, it would be pelting with rain and I'd be soaking wet even before I got to the first delivery. Some of the houses I delivered to were built on a steep hillside, which ran down to the pavements' edge. This meant it was not possible to throw the newspaper over the fence and into the doorways. These types of houses always had a large number of steps to walk up which were very difficult to negotiate when the weather was icy and cold.

     Past mi dads' work and around the hairpin corner there was a boys' private Grammar School. It was a massive, old Victorian building that stood on its own well-kept grounds. Each morning I passed the Grammar school, I'd dawdle a few minutes so I could look through the fence bars, into the grounds area. The whole front of the building was surrounded by beautifully kept green lawns and flowerbeds. Small shrubs encircled the perimeters of the lawns. Most mornings I would see the grounds men in their overalls mowing or trimming the edges of lawn or tending to the weeds in the outer gardens.
     The school building itself was a large, two-story place with dormer windows running at intervals along the long steep top. The outer stone walls were made of quarry-cut square stone and, in places, Ivy had been allowed to grow up as far as the dormer windows. Sometimes the old school reminded me of a military-type building as everything was in such perfect order and spotlessly clean.

     On my way back from the paper round, I would walk along the same side of the road as the school. Some kids, obviously, didn't live there as I used to see them arriving in their flash, luxury cars. At those times I would walk quite slowly past the large, double, wrought iron gates so I could get a glimpse of what it was like to be a rich families boy. The sleek Jaguars and silver Bentleys would glide up to the large gates in the private driveway. Sometimes a chauffer, dressed in a dark blue uniform and cap would get out of the car and then walk around the side to open the door for the rich schoolboy to step out, at his leisure.

     The private school uniforms were burgundy and grey with long trousers. As I stood around and watched, I was wishing for the day to come when I would be allowed to wear long trousers.

     On rare occasions, I would sometimes see a few Grammar School boys riding the upper deck of the Halifax bus. As they sat and talked with each other some of them would pull out a cigarette from a shiny silver cigarette case and say to their friend,
"Would you care for a cigarette, old chap."
"Don't mind if I do, old boy. You'll have to try one of mine next time. I'm smoking Benson & Hedges these days. They're quite an acceptable brand you know."

     When the Bus Conductor came around he would never dare to tell the rich boys, "Put those fags out or I'll make you pay full fare."
     Pulling their leather wallets out from their inside Blazer pockets, they would flash a school pass along with a few large, colored bills. I could see that this very natural action from the private school boys would keep the old bus conductor in his place as they probably had more spending money in their leather wallets than the bus conductor made in a fortnights work plus over-time.

     When the bus conductor had collected all the fares plus my half-ticket contribution, I would pull out one of mi 'Willie-woodbines' from its cardboard five-pack and light up. It was one of my favorite habits, to sit there looking out the top windows and listen to the their posh-speaking language, so as to hear how the other-half lived. After some time, this little habit would get me down so I'd dismiss it with a 'Lucky buggers, they don't even know they're alive and it would probably kill 'em if they had to get up every morning to do my paper round for a few extra Bob'. This thought would always make me feel a little bit more at ease as I sat amongst the rich kids.

     Some mornings, I'd jump out of bed and look out the window to find it had snowed very heavily overnight and was still snowing large, fat, white flakes. It almost looked as though someone was on our rooftop dropping pieces of cotton wool down past my small window. On the snowy mornings I would not feel like venturing out at a quarter to six, so as to be in Ripponden at 5 to six.

     Old Mr. Sooty would always have the newspaper bag full and ready to go, no matter what the weather was like. When the snow was deep he'd say to me,
"Just do ya best lad and deliver as many papers as ya can and what ya don't get to deliver, bring back and I'll give 'em to postman to deliver later on."

     There were times when I could have brought half the papers back but I knew that Oldham Road was a part of old Jack the Postmans' route and if I didn't deliver them old Jack would have to lump my extra papers around.

     On Saturday mornings I'd set off at 7 O'clock, instead of 6. That was so I wouldn't be too early at peoples houses and it would give 'em time to be up so they could pay their weekly bill. Saturdays always took twice as long because I'd have to knock at each door and say, "I come to collect the paper money." This was a way some boys would make money. They'd get up earlier than the usual paperboy and knock on peoples door carrying and old newspaper bag and a small red book and pencil. When the door opened they'd say,
"The usual boy is off sick today so I'm collecting for him. Just write down the weekly fee and sign your name on the right-hand side opposite it."
     This little scam used to work for a week or two until one day someone, unknowingly, knocked on a local Policemans' door.

     Sometimes, when the weather was bad, some of the customers would give me a small tip. I would never dream of stealing from them as the other boys did but I did find out that by saying I had no change yet, some customers would say,
"Oh well, it's only 3 pence. You'd might as well take it for a tip as you've given us good service so far."
     At other houses, I would try the same stunt but they'd say, "Just wait a few minutes and I'll go back inside and look for some change." Or "I don't have any change so come back next week and I'll pay you double." This little action caused two things to happen, it made me late finishing and it made old Mr. Sooty mad 'cause the customer didn't pay.

     Another little trick some boys would play was to tell the customer,
"You didn't pay last week so it's double this week."
If the customer insisted he did, the boy expressed his apologies and would say,
"It's my fault, I must have forgotten to write it in the books."
If the customer said,
"Oh, I must have forgot to leave it out for you. Just a minute and I'll get some more money for you." Then the paperboy had 2 shillings extra in his pocket!

     Some paperboys would even steal the milkmans' money that had been left under the empty milk bottles for him. These types of boys only lasted a few weeks before they got into big trouble and also got the sack.

      I'd been delivering my papers for quite a few months now so between my paper-round money and the odd tips, which I usually spent on sweets or fags before I got home, I now had a good few pounds saved up.

     Each cold morning I'd go out delivering papers, I'd be dreaming of the tin of money mi mum had hidden from me in her bedroom somewhere. 'Maybe I'd buy misen a Raleigh racing bike or better still, maybe I'd buy a racing greyhound so I can make more money. Then again, if I keep saving I can open my own cobblers shop like old Mr. Smith. Maybe I'll buy a high-powered air rifle or some breeding ferrets so as to make more money off 'a young-uns', and the sale of the rabbits I'll catch! Or better still, I'll buy misen an expensive leather motorbike jacket and put silver studs all over it and then buy some ice-blue jeans and a pair of burgundy and blue suede 'brothel-creepers' with some luminous pink or iridescent green socks, a leather belt with a large brass buckle and a long silver heavy-duty chain hanging off it and I'd be the 'Vicars-Knickers' or 'Jack the lad' or the 'Cock-of-the-North' struttin' around the village for everyone to see!'

     Now, the dreams of mine never came to pass because mi mum had plans of her own for my money and mi dad was the designer of her plans! One day, I said to mi mum,
"I must have ten pounds in mi savings tin now mum, so it's time I spent it on something."
"Oh yes. And what do you have in mind for your life savings?"
Without the least bit of hesitancy I ran through my list of requirements and after I finished she said, "You can forget about that list of dreams. If you spend that money you can buy yourself a good 3-piece suit so you have something decent to go out in!"

     I felt like I'd just been hit on the head with the Judges wooden hammer as mi mind stopped and I saw an image of the greyhound chasing the racing bike and the Ferret sat on the shiny saddle as the bike tore past a Teddy boy stood at a bus stop!

"No", I said. "I won't do it!"
"Then you won't go on the paper round anymore if you think I'm getting you up every morning in all types of weather so you can spend all that money on a lot of old rubbish, then you've got another thing coming my boy!"
"You don't have to get me up anymore.", I said. "I'll get misen up from now on so I can spend mi money on what I like!"
"Oh no, you'll do nothing of the sort. I'll get you up and you'll spend the money on what I tell you 'cause I'm your mother and what I say goes. You'll have no say until you're big enough to bring enough money into this house so as to pay for your rent and food and that’s that! I don't want to hear another bloody word about it or else!"

     With that, I stormed off up to my room and gave the stair-carpet a good old stomping on the way. Mi mother stomped up after me and gave me one of her thundering good hidings.

     As I lay on mi bed in tears, I thought about the situation.
'It's my money. I should be able to do with it as I see fit! I'm the one who has to carry that bloody big, heavy newspaper bag! She may get me up but I'll pay her to do that in future so she can't chuck it back up in mi face! Well, a new suit may not be too bad you know, especially if you get a ¾ jacket with long vents up the back and purple velvet Italian lapels and the trousers could be drain-pipes without a 'turn-up' and the Brothel-creepers would just top it off, although the luminous pink socks may just push her over the edge so better not insist on those yet. Mi other option is to give her all the money and tell her, You can have it all except for a Pound and I'm quitting the paper round!'

     This thinking took about a good hour after which I went back down stairs and read her mi 'Bill of Rights' as a working child. After I'd finished she said,
"You're getting a new suit, like it or lump it and you'll get the style your dad picks out for you."
Then she gave me another good belting and said, "Now get up those stairs and if you stomp your feet this time, you'll stay in all week!"

     Mi bottom lip sagged out as mi face dropped and back up the stairs I went, stomping much harder this time. As soon as I reached my room and threw myself as hard as I could on the old double bed, she came upstairs again and gave mi bare legs another sound thrashing with her bamboo cane and said,
"You defy me, you cheeky little bleeder! Now you won't go out after school all week long so don't bother to ask!"
"Don't worry, I won't!" I said between sobs as she came back in to give me some more of the same treatment.

     Soon as Saturday came, they both dragged me by the collar, unwillingly, out of the house and down to the bus stop where we waited for the Halifax bus to come.
"Get that bloody puss off ya face before I bloody well knock it off and if you show me up on this bus, we'll get off at the next stop and you'll get another thundering good hiding! Are you listening to me Richard?"

No comment.

     When we reached Halifax we found a good tailors shop that advertised MADE TO MEASURE SUITS. Mi dad, mi mum and me walked into the tailors shop. Up comes an old fogey salesman,
"Can I help you good people?"
"You can. We would like a new suit for our lad here."
"I have some nice inexpensive ones over the back here hanging on the peg if you'd care to come this way."
"He wants a tailor-made one!" sez mi dad.
"Oh! Excuse me Sir! In that case, please follow me and I'll show you some patterns and material."

     Unwillingly, I follow Iris and George over to the tailored section of the shop.

"What color do you have in mind Missus?
"Swindells! You'd better ask Richard, It's for him."
"Burgundy or bright red velvet!" I sez.
The salesmans' one eyebrow raised up at least an inch on one side and an inch and a half on 'tuther side.
     Mi mum looked down at me with her disapproving scowl and said, "You're not having a bright red velvet suit, lad, so you can get that notion right out of your tiny brain!"

     The salesman looked straight at mi mum as he waited for further orders.
"I think you'll find something you're looking for in this book of materials." he said as he handed the book to mi mum.
"Oh the suits not for me. You'd better give it to him. He's the one who'll be wearing it."
"No I won't!" I sez, under mi breath. This brought another glare from mi mum.

I unwillingly took the swatch book from the salesman who said to me,
"You have a look through here and I'll be back in a minute or so. Just let me know when you see something you like, sir."

     As I opened the swatch book, in a disinterested manner, mi mum tried to be nice about it all by saying,
"Oh! That's a nice color lad. You'd look good in that color."
It was a dowdy-looking brown, so I very quickly flipped over to the next swatch. I stopped at a light, shiny purple fabric.
"Keep going!" sez mi mum as she helped me turn the swatch pages.
"It's not heavy, you know. I'm not an invalid!" I said.

     This comment caused a violent reaction from her. As soon as she saw the coast was clear she grabbed a handful of mi coat and gave it a couple of real good shakes!

"Ow!" I said out loud so as the salesman could hear. As soon as he looked over she replaced the scowl with a phony smile and continued to help me turn the swatches.

     Eventually, after much bullying, a medium blue-black small check wool material was decided upon.

"So, we've made a decision on the material, have we?"

     I gave him an icy look and mi mum gave him her phony smile. When she showed him the swatch he gave us a phony comment,
"Oh what a lovely choice. You'll look quite a young gentleman in this color." He said. "Now, if you'd step this way, we'll take a few measurements."

     All this time, mi dad had been looking around the shop at some 'off the peg' suit styles he liked.

"Just hang your arms at your sides in a relaxed manner." Said the salesman as he pulled his tape measure from around his neck. "Better remove your top coat so as we can get an accurate measurement."

     After I took mi big coat off, I tried to make one of mi shoulders go up and the other one slightly down but the Salesman must have been wise to this little trick, as he leveled off mi shoulders before he took the measurement.
     He quickly jotted all the measurements down and last of all, he said,
"Just look straight ahead and the final measurement will be the inside leg."
"I can do that misen!" I said to the salesman as I reached for his tape.
"Stand still Richard and don't be cheeky!" sez mi mum.

By the time he'd finished, mi dad was now finished looking around. His timing was perfect.

"Now, what style lapels would like?" The salesman said.
"Real narrow Italian lapels." I said.
George said, "Big, wide lapels!" and the salesman wrote down, 'wide classic lapels'.
Then he said, "Single or Double-breasted?"
"Single!" I said.
"Double!" said George.
"Double-breasted." Said the salesman, as he wrote on his note-pad.
"Straight-leg and no turn-ups or straight-leg with turn-ups?"
"Straight-leg with no turn-ups!" I said.
"Straight-leg with turn-ups!!" said George.
"Straight-leg with turn-ups." Wrote the salesman as he talked to himself.
"Now, last but not least, how wide do you want the bottoms?" he said, looking at George.
"24 inches", said George
"Make it 12 inches!" I said to the salesman.
The salesman looked at me then back at George.
"24 inches!" said George.
The salesman was just about to write 24 inches, when I said quite firmly, "NO! I don't want 24 inch bottom trousers!!"
The salesman stopped writing in mid-stream.
"24 inches!" said George. "Only a bloody idiot would walk around in a suit with 12 inch bottoms and no turn-ups!"
The salesman looked back to me.
"12 inch bottoms or you can cancel the order!"
Now, Iris pipes up and put her two-penneth in.
"Maybe 24 inch bottoms are a bit wide for his legs."
The salesman looked at her and said, "Maybe 20 inch bottoms and turn-ups would look good."
Just as the salesman smiled and was about to write '20 inches', I said, "NO! 12 inch bottoms or nowt!!"
This determination on my behalf caused her to screw her face up this time.
"22 inch bottoms!" said George.
"18" said Iris.
"12" I said. "Or nowt!!!"

As we argued over the trousers, the salesmans' head was spinning around in circles from one of us to the other.
"18 inch bottoms and that's final!" said Iris.
"Bloody stupid!" sez George. "My pants are 26 inch bottoms and there's nowt wrong with them. Only bloody Teddy Boys wear 18" bottoms and that went out of style in King Edwards' days".
"Teddy Boys wear 10 inch bottoms". I said. "I know 'cause I asked one how wide his pants were!"
"18 inch bottoms". Iris said to the Salesman. "Write that down!"
"Bloody daft wench." Sez George.
"I wont' ever wear 'em." I sez to mi mum.

"How much deposit would you like to leave on the order?" sez the salesman as he looked at me.
"NOWT!" I said, as I scowled at him.
The anger behind the word, 'nowt' caused him to move backward a pace or two.
"How much will the suit cost?" sez Iris.
"8 Pounds 10 shillings give or take a few shillings.", said the salesman.
"He'll leave 4 Pounds deposit." said Iris as she handed him my hard-earned money.
"Thank you Mrs. Swindells."
"Don't thank me, he's buying the suit."
"Thank you sir.", said the salesman.
"Don't thank me. I ain't wearin' it!"

     Another phony smile from Iris and we walk out the shop.
"It'll be ready to fit next Saturday.", called out the Salesman.

     I never even acknowledged him, I just walked straight out. As soon as we got outside Iris gave a quick quick look around and then gave me a smack in the butt of mi ear and said,
"And that's only for starters! You wait till I get you home lad. I'll make you real sorry you ever bloody showed me up in front of strangers in a shop!"

     The following week, we went to Halifax to get fitted for the new suit. The week after that we picked up the suit. The following Monday I went into Mr. Sutcliff's shop and told him I was quitting the paper round. He asked me to train up a new boy, which I did and Saturday morning, I drew mi last paycheck.

     When mi mum woke me up on Monday morning for the paper round, she said,
"Come on lad, you'll be late for the round if you don't hurry!"
"If I stay in bed until 7 this morning I wont be late."
"What the hell are you going on about? Are you awake yet or talking in your sleep?"
"I'm not asleep." I said, as I lay there facing mi bedroom wall. "I'm wide awake."
"What's all this bloody nonsense you're talking about then? It's 5:40. You'll be late if you don't hurry!"
"I won't ever be late 'cause on Saturday morning I quit the job."
"What did you say?"
"I said, on Saturday morning I quit the job. Another boy is doing mi round today!"
"You little bugger!" she sez.
"And further more, you can beat me as much as you like, I will never ever wear that stupid suit, as long as I live!"

     With that, Iris walked out of mi bedroom and never spoke to me for 2 weeks. After 2 weeks of not speaking to me, one morning she started speaking. For the next 2 weeks I gave her the 'yes-no' treatment.

From the day we picked up the new suit, my relationship with mi mum and dad changed. It steadily got worse.

     Living at 36 Jubilee Terrace was not a very happy time in my life. I could not say it was the worst time as that was still to come.

GOODBYE TO DINAH ~ INNGS FARM ©

GOODBYE TO DINAH ~ INNGS FARM

It was obvious mi dad was not pleased about this move at all.
“You’re never bloody satisfied, wench. Skoal Kar wasn’t good enough for you, now Inngs Farm has gone the same way. I wonder how long it will take you to get sick of this next place.”
“I won’t get sick of the next place!”, sez mi mum. “I slaved mi guts out over the holidays wallpapering this bloody house and just look at it how! The wallpaper hasn’t been on the walls for more than a month and most of it is hanging off the walls. This bloody old farm house is just too damp!”
“Maybe you never put enough paste on the paper, anyway there was now’t wrong with the paper that was already there.”
“It was a bloody mess George, and anyway how would you know how much paste I put on the wallpaper? All you did was to sit on your arse in that old chair and read your bloody newspaper!”
“You should have pasted mi old newspapers on the wall! You might have started a new trend, plus it would have been a damn sight cheaper, wench!”
As me and mi sisters sat there listening, I said to Dinah, “Oh well Dinah, It looks as though we’re all moving again lass.”
“I have some bad news for you Richard.”, sez mi mum. “Dinah won’t be able to go with us to Jubilee Terrace.”
“What do you mean, Dinah can’t go? If Dinah’s not going neither am I!”
“Now look Richard, I’m not going to start arguing with you over Dinah. Jubilee Terrace is a much smaller house than this one, so there wont be any room for her as she’s too big.”
“She can sleep in my bedroom!”, I sez. “You can’t tell me she’s too big to sleep under the bed.”
“She’s not going and that’s final! I’m just about sick of you lot, and you, you’re as bad as your father is. You’re getting more like him every day!”
“Well, he’s mi dad isn’t he? Who else would I be like?”, I sez.
Now she was really mad. She hit the roof!
“Bang!” She gave me a thick ear and I ran upstairs crying.
The mood in the house now was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
“Do we have to move, dad?” Sheila sez.
“Your mother isn’t happy so what the hell is a man supposed to do? I don’t think there’s any bloody thing that will make her happy until she sees mi in mi box!”
As the weeks went by we all slowly got used to the idea. Mi mum calmed down and said to me, “Do you like to see Dinah running around the fields and enjoying herself, Richard?”
“Yes.”, I sez.
“Well, that’s why we can’t take her. It wouldn’t be fair to her. There’s a family who live next to Mrs.Parkers shop who said they would love to have her. They have 2 small children, so she’d be good company for them.”
“What if they beat her?”, I sez.
“They won’t do that lad. They’re really good people.”
“When does she have to go?”
“I’ve arranged for them to pick her up one night this week.”
Well, that was it! There was now’t else I could do but spend as much time with Dinah as I could.
I took Dinah up the back fields with me and we spent our last days together laying in the grass and talking to each other.
“It’s not my fault you can’t come Dinah. Mi mum sez the house is real small and there’s nowhere for you to run around.”
She looked at me with her big browny yellow eyes and said, ‘It’s all right, I understand, don’t worry about me. I will be all right where I’m going.’
Many times in those last few days, as I remembered all the fun times we’d had altogether, tears of loss would run down my face. Each time that happened, Dinah would sit up and lick the tears away, even if she’d just been smelling some cow clap. I remembered all the times I’d been given a good whack on mi bare legs or a thick ear. If it made me cry, I’d go over to the long setee and lay face down with mi head in a pillow. At those times Dinah would be very sad so she’d jump up on the setee and lay full-length down next to me, then she’d put her paw over my neck. As soon as she did this I’d turn over and put my arm over her shoulder and we’d go to sleep together for a couple of hours.
The last few days seemed to fly by and in no time at all Friday night arrived. The neighbours were supposed to pick Dinah up on Wednesday night but they couldn’t make it.
The sound of an old Landrover pulled up outside our front door but tonight no one ran out to see who it was and welcome them. We all knew who it was.
Dinah very dutifully went to the door and gave her customary loud bark.
Mi mum said, “It’s alright Dinah, I know who it is.”
This made Dinahs’ thick cream tail wag. As mi mum opened the door and welcomed the neighbours, myself and mi two sisters sat on the couch with long, sad faces.
The neighbour and his family were very pleasant people. The man and his wife were middle-aged and they had 2 small girls about 5 and 6 years old. Dinah greeted them as they talked to her and petted her head. I’d already put Dinahs’ collar on before they came in, in case she didn’t want to go with them. Me and mi sisters gave Dinah a last good cuddle and I told her to be a good girl. She licked my face and looked quite excited. She seemed to know what was happening and was dealing with it much better than I was. The neighbours didn’t stay very long as they could also feel the unspoken feelings between me and Dinah.
“Come on Dinah, lets go for a ride in the Landrover.”, the neighbours said.
To spare my feelings anymore pain, Dinah wagged her tail and walked towards the doorway. As the neighbours walked towards the doorway I said, “You make sure you look after our Dinah, Mister, and don’t smack her!”
The neighbour looked back then and gave me a very sweet smile.
“Don’t worry Richard, we will. She’ll have a good home with us. I know how much she means to you. Thank you.”, The man turned and walked out and mi mum followed them.
Sitting on the setee with tears in my eyes, I said to myself, ‘Bye Dinah, no one will ever truly know how much you mean to me!’
After Dinah had gone it felt like something inside me had died, so living at Inngs Farm no longer seemed important.

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.