WILD AND TAMED

1980

NEW DAWN

It had been coming. There was an inner urge that kept driving me on to something I knew not what. Now I did. I was going to move to my ancestral land of the UK.

On my way back from CT I stopped in PE to say goodbye to a few people. I went down very early to the bus station to catch a bus out of town. There I met a pharmacist from Quebec who was touring the country. We worked the road together & who should stop, but Syd Kitching on his Monday am run to the regional town's to do their windows. He took us to Grahamstown & we agreed that we would try to get out of town but if not he would take us on to EL. We ended up back in Syd's truck!

My Canadian friend stayed with me overnight after the 3 of us had a good night out. I said goodbye to both & began the process of organizing my trip & settlement in the UK. I was able to gather the fund's Dad & Mum had put aside over the yrs. Within a week I was ready...May the New Dawn begin.

YORKSHIRE

I took the train from EL to JNB from whence I ensconced at the YMCA. I headed downtown for my transit visa through Europe...remember I had the dreaded Zambian passport.

The next day I headed for the airport, bringing back some bitter, sweet memories from my days at Indo/Atlantic. In those days a company called Luxavia were flying weekly charters to Luxembourg & around. They were using old 707's.

I had an entertaining flight as there were a bunch of younger folk like me on their way to Europe for various reasons. It was late March but the cold went through me & it was quite a shock.

We continued our journey on a bus stopping at Brussels Airport for lunch & on to Amsterdam & Frankfurt. I was alighting in Amsterdam. I stayed a night with an Aunt & then flew the next day on to Leeds/Bradford in Yorkshire where old family friend Jean Thuey met me.

They stayed in a lovely little village...Burton Leonard. She & her husband Dennis were great hosts. Their son & daughter, Michael & Sue who were our childhood friends from Rhodesia came to visit. Both were also living in the area.

After a few day tours, I went into Harrogate to look for work only to be told it was more important to be registered as unemployed. Welcome to the Socialist state of the UK.

I took a combination of train, bus & hitching to see Leeds United play Middlesborough in a soccer league game. The abiding memory was the vulgar & uncouth language of many, especially the girls.

COVENTRY

I had come to the UK during an economic depression but I was determined to make things work. I took the bus down to West Midlands, which was a very industrial area, where I stayed with cousins in Coventry.

I was looked on as an oddity & I found their petty behavior strange, yet as my Dad said...that's the British for you.

Susan Howard, 17, was a pretty young lady & neighbor who lived with her family, & I got on well. This annoyed one of the cousins who had clearly been interested in her for years. Here I come & 5 min later!!!

We went off to Alton Towers in Staffordshire where I rode my 1st roller-coaster. The romance soon faded as the circumstances were not favourable & I found a job in another town.

BEDFORD

After working a short while in Kennilworth near Coventry, I was sent to Bedford as Assistant Manager with a health food chain ...Holland & Barrett.

I guess retail is retail. The money was poor, and the hours long but it wasn't too bad. I had a small place in a big house near the River Ousse.

I wasn't there long before I saw an advert to work in France. This was then where the true vandage began. It would be an experience that plays so vividly on my mind & will do for the rest of my life.

FRENCH VANDAGE

PREPERATION...

Before setting off on my Gallic expedition, I went to see Vicky Clark in Tunbridge Wells & her daughter Linsey in Brighton. They were friends from Rhodesia.

I then headed up to Norwich via London to pick up my French Visa to see an old family friend who was my Godmother. I was still naughty in those days. I told the French Consulate I had a dying grandmother & needed my visa rushed. They were extremely sympathetic..usual waiting time was 3 weeks...I got mine whilst waiting at the consulate.

I took the train from Liverpool St Station, buying a ticket to llford. I pretended to sleep whilst the train pulled in & out of Ilford. Once the conductor came by & pointed out the discrepancy, I showed terrible dismay. There was sympathy all around as it was realized I had missed my stop on this express. The next stop was Ipswich in Suffolk, already 2/3 of the journey to Norwich. The very helpful conductor pointed out that I should cross the tracks over the bridge & catch the next London-bound train where I could then alight at Ilford. I left the train with alarm & dismay on my face until the train had moved on its northbound journey, whence a broad smile adorned my face...IT WORKED

I did cross over the bridge but straight out of the station & found the road out of town going through Woodbridge. It then occurred to me this was where My Dad lived before leaving for Africa in '52 I hitched rides & arrived at Aunty Hilda's in time for tea! Norwich is a beautiful City & I spent some time exploring before hitching back to West Midlands.

ON TO MEDOC...

Fred was a man in his early 60's & had experienced the Vandage (grape harvest) in his youth & wanted one last go. He had put 7 people, including himself, together to make the trip. We would all chip in expenses.

I already knew 3 people... Karen was from the village where some of my cousins lived & Mark & John, who were friends, I met through the get-together. Mark was a pool lifeguard, John was a troubled man. We were all in our early 20's or late teens. There was also Nikki & Ann.

That year of 1980 was a late harvest due to heavy rains so we set off in the fall rather than the summer. Fred's panel van was old but reliable. We took the ferry from Portsmouth to Le Harve, arriving quite late but decided to motor on to Paris. We stopped to ask a lovely-looking girl for directions at 1 am, only to get a full frontal flash... we were in the middle of the red light district. Fred's eyes nearly popped out.

Eventually, we found a campsite & collapsed exhausted. The next day we took a tour of the Champs Elysees, the Sein & the Eifel Tower...what a view. ​At about lunchtime we set off south...destination, Bordeaux. We stopped at a small town & lovely camp site.

All was going well until one of the lads remarked that there was 1 ablution block with 1 entry. Yes, the French have been way ahead of gender nondiscrimination but from a cultural attitude. We were to find out on our journey more of the same. The la douch (shower) also had a f1 (frank...before Eurozone) coin slot for about 5 min. The guys suggested a communal shower to save money. The girls were not so keen. So it was dashing in & out for quick splashes.

The next day we finally reached Bordeaux...an attractive city & typical of the Southern French who were a hard-working hardy bunch. The Bureau Travail (Vandage Work) said we were a little early & should return Monday.

It was Friday. As I was now chief navigator & having a better seat up front, I suggested we go down to the coast, to Arcachon. We found a place to camp & enjoyed our al fresco living. The following day we decided to mosey our way back to Bordeaux, but via the various vineyards & Chateaus. I was staggered at the size of the plantations in what was arguably the World's premier wine-growing region. Again I suggested we not go to Bordeaux that night but stay in Paulliac, a lovely town east of Bordeaux on the large Gironde River whose delta spilled out into the Bay of Biscay...see a famous movie-'The Cockleshell Heroes' based on a true WW2 story of mini-subs in the Gironde. We found a park & backed up to a small holding & walked around the town & along the river.

The following morning we were woken at 3 am by the farmer's rooster. Others were not amused but I found it funny. Bleary-eyed we went to the town to find breakfast. At the cafe, we got chatting with a large & rugged-looking fellow. My French was improving. He said he had been in the French Foreign Legion, the notoriously renowned military regiment for its 'thorough' work. He had some digits missing on both hands & said it was from his time in the Legion. Turns out he was a butcher who liked his Pernods & Cognacs. So it was anyone's guess whether he was truthful or a lousy 'buchour!' He gave a gem of information though as we plied him with the brandy & said because he knew everyone & everything in the area; that there was a chateau ready to hire North West up the river in a tiny village called St. Suerine de Cadorne. We were hopeful as we raced back to the van, packed & headed up to the village.

THE CHATEAU...

We were fortunate as we were the first to sign on at the Chateau Pontoise Cabberus under the Patron Teregeol. We also got the best accommodation, a small apartment with 2 floors. Boys up & girls down. Later on, Mark migrated down as he began a relationship with Nikki & troubled John followed him, which left me on my own. That was great until they took away the movable stairs one morning, as a joke... but I spotted it in time or else I might have ended up a wounded grape picker. Later I came home to find a French couple moved into my floor. I was still getting used to French liberty.

The ablution was a shower & hole in the floor toilet. One certainly had to mind yourself carefully there particularly as there were no lights! Over the next 2 days, others began arriving from all parts of Europe & N Africa. They got to sleep in the barn, on bunk beds. The food was fantastic, a veritable feast in all 3 sittings, meals often taking 2 hours & what a variety. Also, as much wine as we wanted. Life was looking good.

We would go to the bars after dinner & drink Pernods & Ricards & play 'tab le foot' (table football) with the locals, often beating them...not clever!

I became friendly with some of the others, particularly a very pretty French girl, Isabel (or as my later friend Greg would remark... necessary...on a bike) She was from Lorraine in the north & I would keep up a friendship for years with her. Now the work was like nothing I had experienced before... backbreaking & really taxing. We were given one side of a vine row & told where to 'coup coup' the stalks & into the 'paniere.' After doing this for a while, I took up the offer of portering... probably as I had nearly sliced a finger off & Patron was not too impressed with a potential vintage specializing in B type blood.

When the foreman, a Moroccan was not looking, grape wars resumed & being a porter, I was an easy target. A favourite joke was when I bent down to receive the paniere gapes into my large bucket strapped on my shoulders. Some would purposefully delight in pouring some grapes down my back between shirt & skin. I did find suitable retribution though when, after mastering pouring my bucket into the massive barrels sitting on trailers. Very common to mistime & go into the barrel too! ...I innocently showed one of the main perpetrators of my back juice discomfort; the inside of the barrel by giving him a helping hand. As he climbed out, he looked like some monster of the great grape deep. As time went by the novices got better & soon we were keeping up with the experienced workers.

Sadly Fred & Ann returned home to England after just 2 days... he too passed it & she, well too large( she was a sweet girl though) It really was tough work. We would race back to get to the shower or for John, the sit down loo at the cafe. We realized there was no point in using different clothes, the ones we initially used were ruined & became starched so that I could literally stand my jeans up next to my bed!

All too soon the adventure was over & decisions had to be made.

COGNAC & BEYOND...

Everyone I came to France with was going their separate ways. Karen went back home. I went to see her a couple of years later. She was in the same village married to a local boy looking unhappy in marriage surrounded with dypers.

Mark & Nikki went to Greece but returned after Mark's Dad died. They later married. John...well I shall get to him later.

I hooked up with 3 boys from UK but we soon separated. I crossed the Gironde & stayed in Blaye before moving north up to Barbazieux where I found a job. The work was completely different. No portering, they had a machine for that. The vineyard was in the Cognac region...grapes for brandy. The vines were higher so less strain. The accommodation was one big room for all, boys & girls. Dinner was with the farming family & during it, the 1st night, there was a soccer World Cup qualifier between France & Ireland. I was rooting for the Irish & got fired the next day...clever boy...I was back on the road again.

I stopped in town & bought a 2 man tent which I still have today. I then took a bus up to Angoleme as I heard there was a work agency there. At the agency I found a bunch of folk waiting around expectantly as a made up blonde was doing her nails & manning the phone waiting for calls from farmers needing workers. Across the room was a particularly slovenly looking fella with a bottle of cheap beer at his side... but then he spoke...he was a Brit so I sidled over to the RAT. Madam nail file told us to get out as it was lunch...& lunch in France went on for 4 hrs.

By this time I was building a friendship with Greg. He was originally from S Yorkshire but had been in Nottingham most of his life. He was 23, married...just... with a child. The relationship had soured. They were both in their teens when they got hitched. He had some laundry to do so I tagged along. When we got back to the agency, 6 jobs had just gone & Greg & his mates were next in line. He was furious & to cap it all the agency closed for the season...work in that region's harvest was over. He said I should go down to the campsite with him as he would now have to discuss with the other 3 what to do.

So now began a series of escapades that beggared belief! The next morning the 2 Frenchies in Greg's group who looked very unpleasant headed on their own way. That left Mac & the 2 of us. Off we went to the train station & met Frank, a local who tagged on with us...not really sure why! This began a series of jumping trains. We brought out the wine & set off for Paris. Our destination was the Alsace region in the NE of the country...the final area of harvest.

We arrived in the city of love & Frank showed us which of the 8 stations to head for & how to avoid paying subway fare. We arrived at the Gare de Oos & boarded the train for Munich & Budapest only to find it was filled with raucous & drunk Brits. This seemed ominous, never the less we found a compartment & settled in for our journey to Strasbourg. The wine flowed & the behavior worsened. Frank & Mac were contributors. The conductor was unable to get to us for tickets. Notwithstanding most were without.

The journey continued to Nancy where we were due a stop. I happened to look out onto the platform only to see a squad of Gendemarie approaching the train. I told Greg to grab his stuff & we raced for the toilet where we locked ourselves.(This would begin a series of train rides of locked-in train toilets) The other 2 were too drunk to figure out what was going on. Clearly, something was happening as the train was stopped for an unusually long time at the station. When it did pull out we crept back to our compartment only to find our 2 rascals gone. The German & Swiss businessmen in our compartment were smiling. 'Your 2 friends...they are gone...the police escorted them & many others off the train...the Irish one was singing the song ... It's a long way to Tipperary...(This was a WW1 song sung initially by the Irish Guards Regiment) The train was nice & quiet until we detrained in Strasbourg...it was decidedly colder.

We never did see the other two again although Greg hooked up with Mac at another time in Holland & got into more serious trouble with the authorities. We found a camp site, now closed for the season. We hurdled the gate & pitched the tent...we were exhausted, hungry & cold.

It was a shock to have the tent shaken in the morning by an angry patron, telling us to leave. We cheekily asked for hot water to bathe. He refused so we washed in ice cold water...oh did I mention it had snowed overnight so packing the tent was no fun. We trundled into town...Strasbourg is a beautiful city with a strong German influence. The history of the region has a long record of disputes between the Franco/Germanic peoples only resolved in 1945. We found the work agency...& guess what...yes the season was finished. We were stunned, & what to do? We sat in the main square & looked at our options.

Winter was on its way & we needed to move south so back on the trains or to be precise in the toilets! We were going to pick oranges in Spain. We had to change trains in Metz & who do I bump into but Isobel...we had a coffee & chat & then went our separate ways.

Frank had trained us well as we made our way to the correct station in Paris for the southbound to Irun on the French/Spanish border. Greg wanted to pick up some stuff he had left in Bordeaux first, though. The train was full of Arab migratory workers who took their shoes off... what a pong!! Greg decided to chat up a pretty girl but got turned off when she smiled to display a mouth full of rotting teeth.

So now we come to the catalyst of much that happened after this adventure & the future turn of events. I did not know, but God's protecting hand was active all this time. We arrived in Bordeaux at around 3am & we were beat so figured on a few hrs sleep somewhere before moving on.

MY LIFE WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN.

ARMED ROBBERY

I was woken at about 4.30 in the morning by 2 rough looking characters. They were demanding money & as one of them had a gun pressed against my head I was in no position to argue. Greg meanwhile continued snoring his head off! After they took the money they ran off... I gave chase but had to dive to the ground when the gun man leveled the weapon at me. I was stunned & angry & when I returned only then realized I was wearing undies...only undies. Too make it all the more ludicrous, Greg was just rousing, asking why I was up & making such a row!

The rest of the day was a catalog of events that were crazy, sad, kind & hysterical (the humorous kind). We made our way to the police to file a report, which to be honest I thought would not be taken serious, even though armed robbery was a most serious crime & in France and could carry a sentence of over 20 yrs. Also, remember in France one is guilty till proven innocent (this will be quite poignant in the future for me)

After that, we went to get Greg's stuff in another part of town only to find the girl who had lived there had moved & Greg's stuff gone with her. There was no forwarding address.

We wanted to be in a safe place for the night so made for the Youth Hostel. It was about 3pm. When we got there, there were a bunch of folks waiting for the hostel to open at 6pm. Soon after a car arrived at the hostel with 2 well dressed men, who alighted & made for me! They showed me their French Police Detective cards & asked if I would accompany them to HQ

2 things!! All the folks sitting around scattered...clearly not happy about the police presence &/or thought I was an undercover cop, snitch,etc. It was so comical that Greg & I burst out laughing which also set the detectives off in a giggle. It broke the ice. Also, the fact that the police had taken the crime seriously & the reason the cops came looking for me (they had in fact been cruising around town & asking after me) They had a couple of suspects in custody & wanted me to identify them...if I could. To this day I do not know whether the 2 guys were the culprits. In fact, I was taken into the same room as the two...no one way glass. I said I could not be sure...& I couldn't...certainly, I would not send 2 men down with uncertainty. What happened next made me think they were the 2...The one boy hugged me. I reckon they thought I was letting them off. Anyway, the deed was done. The police could not arrest them & that was the last of it.

We trudged back to the hostel which was now open & sat miserably in the lounge waiting for the go ahead to get to the dorms. What all this mysterious security was about was soon to be revealed. Clearly, people were sneaking into the dorms without paying so at 10pm the rather rotund matron was waiting at the foot of the stairs checking tickets before letting people pass on to the dorms. A bunch of us, after planning our strategy rushed the stairs figuring at least some would get through. So we did & some of us did get through...Greg & I were 2 of them.

I soon found a bed & hunkered down. No Greg, so after an hour or so I went looking for him. He was in none of the rooms. In the morning I found him in the breakfast room looking rather chipper. After inquiring what had happened he said that he had taken a wrong turn with another lad when we rushed the stairs & ended up in the girls' section. There was no connection to the male section. Fortunately, the girls were kind & let them sleep with them...well in their room, I mean.

A kind, very pretty Danish girl bought us breakfast & we decided to wait one more day in Bordeaux before heading back up north to Holland where I figured we could get work with a cousin's transport business till the spring before hitting the road again. The fact that we had no more money (Greg's had run out too by now) made it too risky for Spain. Greg wanted to check another angle on his 'stuff' before we left. It turned out hopeless. We decided to pitch a tent in a park & take the train the following day.

As we were leaving the hostel, who comes running to greet me, but 'Desperate John' It was good to see him. After exchanging pleasantries, he went on to tell us that he had spent all his money on prostitutes & was now heading home on a bus. The problem was that after going out of his hotel for a spell he returned to find the front door locked & a note saying something about a Hotel Oevert @ 6pm! Well, John put 2 & 2 together & came up with 5. He was desperate as all his stuff, including his passport was now at this Hotel Oevert & he had spent all morning asking around where this particular hotel was. His bus was at 7pm. Greg & I fell about laughing. After explaining that oevert meant open he became quite relieved & couldn't thank us enough.

We saw him off at the bus station. I did feel sorry for him. His life was full of difficult circumstances. Little did I know that John would reappear in my life again soon.

MUGGING OF A RAT...

THE SAD FACT OF FAMILY...

HOMEWARD BOUND...

The next day we took the train north again but got kicked off at Libourne. It was dark so we looked for somewhere to bed down & found what we thought was a suitable spot near the station. When we awoke in the morning, we realized it was a garbage dump. That did explain the smell!

But it was here that the RAT was born. Greg found a used, slightly worn & torn sheepskin coat. It fitted him & most importantly, was warm. After getting some coffee (can't remember if we paid,were given or didn't pay) we took the Paris train & enjoyed the luxury of the floor under the bunks of a sleeper for over 3 hrs. Back across the underground & on a train for Metz & then up to Holland.

I wanted to see Isabel. We got to Metz in our usual manner & quickly found the Youth Hostel. There was no one at reception so we found a room, locked up our stuff & opened the window out of which we jumped leaving it unlocked & slightly ajar. We walked to the road, east out of Metz, which is a large city. Isabel lived in a village called Lemud.

Well us dummies did have a few people stop & when we asked if they were going on to the village (we said it like 'mud' ...it should have been like 'moo') no-one said they were & drove on. After over 2 hrs a  young man said, 'Ah...LUMOOO' Probably the first car was going there as well. We got to Isabel's home & the whole family...Mum, Dad & brother were really good to us. We got fed & then went to a bar for some Pernod. Isabel drove us back to Metz where we said our goodbyes. Our window was open & we climbed through & had sweet dreams. Good job we did for what was to happen the next day will be etched on my mind for ever.

We showered, dressed & made for the exit. During our preparations for leaving, the rather large matron implored us to not forget to pay when we left...this should have been a vital key to our plans of escape! I was out the door first & made my way swiftly up the path & into the street...home free or so I thought! I also thought the Rat was right behind me...he was until Madam jumped on him!

He had got jammed in the doorway, rattling them & alerting Madam. He freed himself from the doors but not from her. I turned just as she pounced on the Rat. For a big lady, she was rather fast. Rat was stunned as they rolled around on the grass. She then grabbed his tog bag, ran back inside & locked the door.

In the meantime I had fallen down with laughter. It was like a staged scene. Rat looked like he had been hit by a bazooka, more from humiliation than surprise. I waited for him a little further on while he tried vainly in retrieving his bag.

Shortly after, expecting the Rat, in which I was correct but now in the company of 3 Gendarmes in a police car. They pulled up in front of me & asked Rat if I was the one to which he replied, 'No'...They just laughed & ordered me into the car. Rat looked really miserable.

At the police station, they asked us why we did not pay...'With what?', we asked They seemed to find the whole business quite funny & told us to leave town. We did, on the next train to Luxembourg.

Near the Luxembourg border, we departed the train, not wanting to get caught without tickets. We hitched into the City with a pretty girl who had a man for company...who did not seem pleased she had stopped for us. After dropping us in the city, I inquired with the Luxavia office when the next flight from J'burg would arrive. 'In the morning', was the reply.

What a stroke of good fortune. Our timing was perfect. Remember my flight into Lux & the continued journey on a bus...well that was our plan...to join that bus! Now for a place to sleep.

The nights were getting chilly so we found the Youth Hostel, palatial compared to others. I strolled in, appearing like I was already a resident, went up to the men's floor & looked out the window to find Rat who had the hand luggage There was no one about so I lowered rope from the tent we had tied off together & hauled up the luggage. Rat had dug a hole & hidden the ruck sacks. He then also strolled in nonchalantly & met me upstairs. We were hungry but dare not go out & lose our advantage.

A Brazilian boy who came from a wealthy background & found our situation humorous told us there was a bed check between 9 & 10 pm. Our problem would be solved by hiding in closets where we could neither stand nor sit. Try doing that for an hour! In the end, there was no bed check.

We fell into clean & crisp beds. I roused Rat at 5am We looked out the window. It was a 20 ft drop into a hedge. Bags went 1st, we said our goodbyes to a now awake dorm who found all of this caper hilarious. I jumped 1st ,perfectly into the hedge to soften the landing & then sprang out. I had told Rat to do the same. It was Sunday morning...everything was extremely quiet & going well till the Rat plunged into the hedge but bounced the wrong way into a window, shattering it. I am sure they heard that in Bruxelles! Rat was shaken but not stirred.

We legged it up to some toilets. When no one came we unearthed our ruck sacks & caught a courtesy bus to the airport. There we waited like regular passengers. The flight was late...fog!

When it came in & passengers cleared immigration we joined them with our own trolleys & headed for the Frankfurt bus. We were loaded & on our way. I couldn't believe it. Rat was also staggered. We had pulled off some terrific stunts.

We had our lunch in Bruxelles & cleaned the left overs from other passengers. We didn't care. Full bellies were all that counted. As in previous times, starvation is a most painful experience.

It was dark before we left the bus at Amsterdam Station Centraal. We slept in the station. Quite a few others were doing the same, although some were getting moved on by the police. It became quite normal to look at the ground where we walked & in bins. Rat found a new box of cigarettes in Bordeaux. The very next day the same...in the same place! I found an egg (in its shell) in Amsterdam...yummy.

The next evening after waiting around one of my Mum's sister's home (she was out) I was told when she returned; I was welcome for a cup of tea but HE (pointing at Rat) was not. I said, 'no thanks,' & left. Rat laughed & said I should have taken up the offer.

Worse was to follow. We went around to another of Mum's sisters. She was away but a neighbour invited us in & gave us coffee,cake & Fl10( no Euros yet)...about 3 Pounds. She was sweet & generous. We had not asked for a thing. We ate that Fl10 hungrily at a cafe. That night we snuck back to the building & slept in the basement only to be woken early by people coming down to get their bikes.

The one Aunt's son who had the transport business was NOT (at least for Rat & I) hiring, even for board & lodging till the spring. Another aunt slammed the phone down. I turned to Rat & said, 'Am I diseased?' 'No,' he said, 'but you do smell.'

The outrage did not end there. Just over 2 yrs hence one of the other many aunts made a visit to South Africa with my parents whilst I was out visiting too. Suddenly all was roses yet a few yrs later after Mum had passed, I was visiting Holland & thought to pop in...NO, NOT welcome. The aunt whose neighbour had given us Fl 10 demanded my mum give her the money on a visit my parents had made the following yr.

It dawned on me I was NON PERSONA GRATIS to the family. Yes, I was a bit of a tearaway when I was younger, but to treat me like a leper! They say blood is thicker than water & being adopted was not acceptable! The more appropriate idiom is... You can choose your friends but not your family.

My parents, especially Mum were upset by this rejection.

We stayed in 2 youth hostels, can't remember if we paid...only that it gave us a chance to bathe. At one there was stale bread & old fruit left for those in need...we were; & wolfed it down. Today it might go to the birds & the bin but then, we were so grateful.

We met 2 lads from Manchester who said they would pay for our passage home. We had always not wanted to go home but it now appeared to be the wisest solution. We took the train to Hoek of Holland & the ferry to Harwich in Suffolk & from there a train to London. We said goodbye to Mancurian boys & thanked them profusely.

We tried our French trick on a train to Birmingham...Rat said he might as well go my way but we got on one of the older carriages where there was no connection to the other coaches. And blow me, the conductor was in ours. A man stood up & put his cap on. We were aghast. Our excuse was we wanted to get to Watford which had gone by so our friendly conductor put us out at Leighton Buzzard with advice on how to get back to Watford...so when all else fails use the old Ilford trick. Rat said, 'Leighton Buzzard...where's that?'

We hitched with truckers & got to Solihull near B'ham & found Desperate John in his local boozer who organised for us to sleep at his sister's home.

BRUM

The next day we walked into the city. That night we got a bed or more precisely a chair in a Catholic vagrant's hostel. Jenkins our musical entertainer woke us at 4am with a string of Sinatra melodies. We knew he was Jenkins because others were shouting...'Shut the %^&* *&^% Jenkins!' We got a fry up for breakfast.

That morning we organised accommodation in Moseley House down the road. Another type of vagrant hotel but with our own rooms. Moseley House in Cheapside used to be a Victorian workhouse. It was quite a shock to see these men of all ages in such depressive states due to all sorts of social reasons. No sooner had they got their welfare cheques than they were drinking it or spending it on the fruit machines.

The rooms were icy & everyone had to be out in the street at 9am, only allowed to return at 4pm... Sat was 12pm & Sun not needed to leave. I remember hiding in the closet whilst a cleaner was in the room one Sat morning. The TV rooms were fixed on channels & there would often be a mass migration to the other channel room when programs finished. There was a cafeteria where my rock cake got devoured one time after I went back to the counter for a spoon. I was determined to get work & one day I came down in a suit only for everyone to scatter...thought I was a policeman.

Rat & I would have greasy fry-ups in the mornings at Bob's Cafe down the road...cheap & nasty. I did get a job in a store but at lunch on the first day I got a much better one & so resigned after the break.

HGT

 Hall Green Textiles put on fashion shows using catalog clothing. They were based down town & I was to spend the next few years there, thoroughly enjoying it...well most of the time.

We ran 2 trucks each evening. We used models, some were good fun. We worked all over the Midlands, sometimes staying over in hotels. We went to all the surrounding counties & Yorkshire plus the Home counties nr London as well as all over B'ham & the Black Country.

My job was crew leader & feeder which meant I set up the stock, liaised with the models & compere. I also drove the truck, organised meals & accommodation.

We met many interesting people & lots of girls! We did some huge shows like Bristol Convention & the Bingley Hall in B'ham which is now the National Indoor Arena (NIA)

Keith Baker was the gaffer. He was also manager of Duran Duran whom I did not know of until Simon le Bon walked into the warehouse one day. There were also connections with Hazel O'Conner & Bananarama who also came in one day. These were all artists from the region. The Rum Runner Night club was made famous by DD who played there in their early days. By that connection, we got free entrance. This we did, often on Fri after work. We had a Xmas party there & a parade of pop & soccer stars incl Frank Worthington came by...thought I had arrived...how naive I was.

Whilst there were many humorous moments. One, though, early doors, was when we had a gig in the Black Country (the region neighboring B'ham) & as usual the venue was packed with mostly women. When one of them piped up & said,'What size Cock!?' (Cock being a friendly term for someone...which I did not know then)...I just looked stunned!

22 ASHFIELD RD,KINGS HEATH

I found a bedsit in the district of Kings Heath on the south side of B'ham. It was good to have my own place again. I made friends with some of the tenants & worked on the garden which was a mess.

I bought a small black & white TV which I kept for many yrs.

Across the road was a member of UB40, a B'ham band...Astro was a friendly fellow.

The 1st winter was a real eye-opener...still not properly clothed & my socks froze on the line...Here was an African well out of his depth. There was a park nearby & I used to fitness train there plus play tennis.

Hired a VCR for the '82 World Cup. Rat would record while I was working & then I would watch the games later. We also hired some sleazy videos. When I left for work one morning , my neighbour, an Iraqi leaned out his window & asked if I had a 'wideo!' Rat said he had heard stirring one night in the early hrs next door. Clearly Iraqi had heard all the moaning & grunting from the sleaze video & thought there must be something lurid on late night TV.

Mum, Dad & Tina with a friend had sailed from SA to UK. I met them in Southampton. I joined them in Holland after a few days in Lorraine, France in a village called Morhange where Isabelle was working. My passport was stolen in Amsterdam & I had real difficulty getting back into UK. They then also toured UK where I spent time with them.

I met them in Thame, where my dad had lived & he showed the sights of his youth

I spent time with them again in Seaford where Evelyn Foote, a former neighbour in Buckley, N Rhodesia lived before seeing them off at Newhaven on the ferry to Dieppe as they continued their tour of Europe before sailing home from Naples.

Tina sailed home from Southampton at the end of the year The ship Achille Lauro, a few yrs later sank in Asian waters. It had a troubled history as it was infamous for a Philistine terrorist attack where they killed a disabled American Jewish passenger.

I lost touch with Rat for a while, but we did connect again & I got him some work with HGT. Later he also found a place near to me in Kings Heath. He had connected with Mac which was bad news. They got deported from Holland for theft.

I had started playing soccer again & joined a local club, Trafalgar. We were ok but financially poor. We turned up at a game one time with half the team in a 3 wheeler Robin Reliant!

I was also going to the Aston Villa games...home & away. They were a good team then, winning the league & European Cup.

Those were the days of terracing & punch ups. Had a few run-ins @ Leicester, Wolves, Birmingham & West Brom. Man U brought a huge following & were not too pleased when we beat them.

Rat & I also went down the road to watch a test match between Eng & Australia (the famous 81 tour) & then Pakistan at Edgebaston. Eng won both these games.

We used a crafty trick with 2 other blokes. Using our pooled money one of us bought a ticket for the 1st day & then dropped the ticket into a hole in a tennis ball which was then launched into a stream running right next to the stadium fence. This stream ran under the road into Cannon Hill Park where the 3 of us were waiting. The ball was retrieved (we did figure out the direction of the flow beforehand), the ticket was extracted & so # 2 went in & so on...4 of us watched all 5 days for the price of 1 ticket!