My earliest childhood memories do not revolve around my own parents but rather around a couple named Mr and Mrs Hey. Mr Hey, a retired policeman, and Mrs Hey, a post-war nurse if my memory serves me right. Although my recollections of Mr Hey are faint, I do remember him as a gentle soul. Regrettably, he was taken from us far too early.
As far as I understood, he was unwell, and in line with the events of the early 60’s, he peacefully passed away in his sleep. I remember being asked to go out and play with my siblings when the hearse arrived to take away his body. I don’t recall attending a funeral, possibly because we were not immediate family, and being young, it may not have seemed appropriate at the time.
Well, the powers that be decided that we five children could stay with Mrs Hey. There was Irene, Pauline, Jeff, myself and Gary in age order, Gary being the youngest and just a Toddler. We lived at Number 35. St Philips Rd. Gorton. And attended Ryder Brow School just a few Hundred Meters away.
I have fond memories of living in this house and endless hour playing football in the school playing fields to the right of the house. Though private and secured because it was school property. We as children had easy access. One of the larger children on our street, and there were many. Had used a car jack to pry apart the iron railings right next to our house. In so securing easy access to the playing fields. And also a super shortcut for us to get to school.
The Jacked apart railings behind the green bin. With the school in the distance.
I’m not sure how many years we stayed at that address. But I do recall the days it took us to move two streets away to Number 1 Brookhurst Road. For the move a van had been rented. But this was only for the big stuff, beds and wardrobes and the like. Anything portable we children would shuttle round to the new house. So from after school Friday using all the daylight hours until late Sunday evening, we kids carried trip after trip of all our worldly possessions and a house full of stuff two streets away to the new house. I’m in no way moaning about this, back in the day it was how things were done.
Number 1 Brookhurst Rd.
When I mention the “new house,” I mean that it was new to us. Previously, Uncle Arthur and Aunty Vera, Mrs Hey’s sister and her husband, had occupied it. They had found another place closer to his work, near Paignton, I believe. As a young person, I didn’t fully grasp all the complexities of house moves, but here’s what I gathered:
Someone works diligently and saves money to the point where the bank trusts them enough to lend them a mortgage. With the money, they buy a house. Later, for various reasons, they may want a bigger or different house, so they put their current house on the market. This sets off a chain reaction of events. Someone else sees their house, likes it, and puts their own house up for sale to fund the purchase. This process repeats, creating a chain of housing moves.
We found ourselves second to last in this chain. After all the other houses in the chain had been financed and finalized, removal vans were arranged, and people moved to their new homes. However, we had to wait for Arthur and Vera to vacate before we could move into our new home, even though there were people waiting behind us to move into our old house. Consequently, we had just a weekend to complete our move.
I have many intriguing memories of this new house. Being older when I lived there they are more vivid. We as kids got up to more mischief too. Like the day we were playing cricket in the backyard. The stumps had been chalked on the wall under the bay window. And as we had no cricket ball a lump of coal was substituted.
Now not being totally daft and fully aware of the large bay window. The bowler… Gary was instructed to bowl underarm. This went fine for the first several hits, lumps of coal were clattering down the far end of the yard, some sailing over the wall into the street.
However, Gary got bored of underarm as the Batsman was thrashing his efforts to the four winds. Gary had no hope of bowling the batsman out with such slow bowls. So the inevitable happened, a fast overarm full toss that sailed the lump of coal straight into the centre of the bay window.
To say that Mrs Hey was livid would be an understatement. Large panes of glass are expencive. And we were by no meams rich..! One look around the yard at all the scattered coal, the cricket bat and the broken window and Mrs Hey did not need to be Miss Marple to put two and two together.
I’m not a hundred per cent sure why, perhaps it was because I did generally cause the most trouble. But Mrs Hey grabbed the cricket bat and flew after me up the yard. Fortunately, I got to the back gate ripped the bolt open and reached the sanctuary of the public road before I was clobbered with the bat.
I stayed out until it was dark, in the hope that Mrs Hey had calmed down. Fortunately, she had, so it was off to bed for me with no supper. Apparently to teach me a lesson. The only lesson I learnt that day was don’t trust your younger brother..!
The back yard, and the gate that led me to sanctuary..!
The bay-window can just be seen…to the left of the Van..!
I cannot really talk about my time at this address without mentioning Mrs Parr. She was a dear old lady who lived at number 3 Brookhurst Rd. The street numbers went 1, 1a, 3…5 etc. So Mrs Parr was our next-door neighbour but one.
Most Saturdays, Mrs Hey would bake bread and the odd pie or bread pudding. Once this was completed in good neighbourly fashion I would be tasked to take a loaf over to Mrs Parr. I relished this task. On Saturday afternoon Mrs Parr would be preparing her weekly food. This may be a whole Rabbit, Large Fish, a Chicken or a joint of Meat. I would be completely enthralled by her. Simply because she could convert her chosen food into 5 meals yet not waste a morsel.
To watch her scale and gut fish was mesmerising in its simplicity. Watching her debone a joint was a pleasure. And I must say that wonderful lady took the time to teach me so many skills on how to deal with meat, fish and fowl. Skills I have carried with me all my life. Thank you, dear sweet Mrs Parr.
Another amazing thing about my visits to Mrs Parr’s was that she cooked on a Grange Oven, this was an antique oven, even back in the day. It was coal and wood fired. It warmed the house water, boiled water for drinking, cooked stuff in an oven, warmed plates, heated food in pans and frying pans and kept the house warm. It was a joy to watch Mrs Parr cook on it, without the aid of a button or dial. She was a true artist in her kitchen.
An Oven similare to Mrs Parr’s.
As the years passed we kids got older. And the powers that be decided that it wasn’t proper for three boys to share the same sleeping accommodation as their sisters… so sadly we were split up ‘The Girls’ heading off to female accommodation and us three boys staying with Mrs Hey.
As with all things, time takes its toll. With Mrs Hey there was no exception. She was old when she first started looking after us and something like a decade of time had passed with her tending to the needs of three growing boys.
Though still full of Spirit, it would be kind to say the body was weak. So her blood family decided it would be a great idea to move us all to Bracknell. As to be near her daughter Hazel and family, should anything untoward happen. That us three boys might perhaps not be able to handle.
Hazel, or aunty Hazel as we addressed her, had a wonderful family. There was Hazel, Uncle Victor her husband and five daughters. Valery the eldest, then Marilyn, Sharon, Julie and the youngest Louise. Aunty hazel was the coolest woman I knew…Why? She owned a Bubble Car. I don’t recall the make but it looked similar to the BMW Isetta. It had a wonderful classic charm, and we could fit Aunty Hazel and three kids into it if one squiggled up on the back shelf.
They lived at number 3 Beswick Gardens, Bracknell. And right outside their front door was a Forest..! As kids, when staying at their house for holidays, we boys were in play heaven. We had grown up in Manchester where our trees had fences around them and signs saying no ball games..! Here, we boys swiftly mastered the art of Bow and Arrow making, tracking and walking silently to see the game rather than scare it off.
So the news of our move to Bracknell was quite a nice surprise. More vans were rented boxes packed and in a flash, our new home was settled into. We three boys were signed into a new school. This one is called Wild Ridings. I don’t recall much about my time at school in Bracknell. I recall nothing bad about it, other than one incident. And it’s a funny old thing but it involves my brother Gary.
I don’t like bullying in any of its forms. And as children, the male influences in our lives had always taught us to stand up for ourselves. So a big shout out to Uncle Arthur, Uncle Victor and several male teachers, CCF Leaders and Scout Akela’s.
Gary, though small in stature compared to me. Could quite happily stand up for himself. Now for some reason, he had a run-in with an older and bigger kid at school. I have no idea what it was about. But Gary told this kid he was going to knock the crap out of him after school.
I knew nothing of this until I’m summoned to the headmaster’s office. The other kid who I did not know was standing outside the office. The door opens, and the headmaster sternly tells me to get inside. I’m berated on the evils of bullying and how he, the headmaster will not tolerate it. I was to get ‘Six of the Best’ on my hands as a punishment.
I protested my innocence to no avail. And the punishment was metered out. To say it hurt like buggery is an understatement. The art is to keep your thumbs low because if the cane hits your thumb it hurts for days afterwards. With both hands stinging like hell and I was determine not to cry until a made it to the bathroom. The headmaster walked me out of the office turned to me and then said “If you ever threaten this boy again you will be back in my office again for more of the same..!”
It was at this point that the unknown kid outside the office to his credit spoke out. “Sir he didn’t threaten me.. his little brother did..!”
There was no apology, in fact, the headmaster knew full well of my track record. Said I was to accept the punishment in lieu of all the things I had gotten away with in the past. Here the matter was dropped. By the headmaster and myself. I made it to the bathroom without crying and when there I think the moment for tears had passed. I ran my hands under the cold tap for a good ten minutes until the feeling and use came back into them. I then proceeded back to my class.
I never mentioned a word about it to anyone in school, Gary and I had heated words on the way home, though I did realise he was not really to blame. At school, the next day word had somehow gotten out. And we all know that the truth will never get in the way of a good story. I must have heard six different versions of the events, how I had taken a caning instead of my brother. Yet truth or fiction all that happened is my kudos in school went sky high…For about a week.
The move to Birmingham.
Sadly the sands of time took their toll on Mrs Hey, and she passed away. I do recall this moment in time. And the funeral back in Manchester where she was laid to rest next to her husband. It was a really sad event for all concerned, her family and ours..!
Once the dust had settled after the funeral. I’m led to believe there were some in depth discussions between the Child Services and Aunty Hazel as to what was to happen to us three boys. Aunty Hazel had a huge family herself. She didn’t need three extra boys..!
I’m not sure how long it took but a solution was found. Valery, Aunty Hazels eldest daughter was married to a guy called Ron Maloney, a university lecturer. They as a couple didn’t want the hassle of bringing up small children. But looking after three adolescent boys who could look after them selves so to speak, that would be easier. And the Council pay you to foster children too, handsomely I may add.
So the solution was that we three boys would move up from Bracknell to Birmingham to live with Valery and Ron..! Once the due diligence had been done, and the council were happy with the accommodation. Because we had to have separate bedrooms because of our ages..! We made the journey to Birmingham.
Settling in to Number One, Hagley Court, Hagley Road, Birmingham, was fairly simple. We each had our own room, the first floor flat was clean and roomy. We were maybe a twenty minute walk to school, which was no great hardship.
Daily routine in the household was fairly simple, with standard household chores to be done. Skills that Mrs Hey had taught us from an early age so no hardship there, and they were divided by three..! A regular weekday was relatively simple. Rise. Scrub up, have breakfast then the walk to school. Enjoy school and at 16:00 head home. Supper then school home work, maybe some TV then bed…’Rinse and Repeat..!’
The school we were assigned was called Harbourne Hill School, it was a mixed school about 50/50 boys and girls. Most of the teachers as I recall were pleasant. My form teacher was Mr Wooldridge. Mr Nash was my English teacher, and Mr Smith was my Maths teacher. As teachers they were like chalk and cheese. Mr Nash was engaging, captivated the class and the kids wanted to learn. Mr Smith not so. To me he came across as a poor teacher. He seemed only focused on the children he knew would pass the exams at the end of the year…! So long as he made his quota.. he didn’t seem to care about the rest of the class..! If I’m doing him a disservice I apologise it’s just my view..!
During my time at Harbourne Hill I made many friends, but none finer than Andy Wynn, Mark Pickering, and Tim Sharman. I must also shout out to the girls to, Sue and Ruth Routledge. Janine Peel, and so many other great people.
Mark Pickering and Andy Wynn..!
Janine Peel.
Tim Sharman..!
Weekends were generally ours to do as we wished, I really enjoyed going to Birmingham Library as school had furnished me with an adult library card, so I had access to the whole library not just the childrens section and I loved reading..!
Initially things went well, then over time Ron became more controlling over how I completed, and how much school homework I had to do. As an example, lets say my school french home work was to translate the three paragraphs on page 7. Ron would have me translate the first three chapters.
Jeff and Gary also got enhanced home work. Gary as he was younger not so much. Jeff perhaps a little as he was already heading toward his exams. Yet for some reason Ron saw me as a challenge. Often I would be in my room way past midnight doing extra stuff for Ron…
Then he started insisting I do stuff during the weekends too. He would set time limits on my homework. He even timed us coming home from school.
Valery, was not 100% behind Rons decisions. But he was in charge there was no getting around that.
Further restrictions were imposed on us as kids, though I must say mainly on me..! Often I would hear Jeff and Gary heading out while I was banished to my room to battle with French Translation or the Maths and Sciences..!
I’m not at all sure when, but there came a day that for what ever reason I had transgressed one of Ron’s homework challenges or time limits. So he decided it warranted me being caned with a piece of wooden rod that was used to stir paint. It was about two and a half foot long and stung like buggery on my arse..!
I don’t recall how many strokes I got, I just know it hurt like hell. I was hoping that this was just a one off occasion. Sadly it was not, and Ron upped his game. The first assault was in private in my room, he then told me the next would be in front of Valery, Jeff and Gary… And it was…
I don’t wish to think about how many times he felt the need, as he saw it to punish me. But there came a point in time where I had reached my limit. I had been put under this mans roof to be offered sucker and comfort. Not to be physically assaulted .
I believe it was a Thursday, and I knew that when I went home at some point in the evening I would be receiving another caning from Ron… But I’d had enough. I had spent all day worrying about it. Knowing I would have to walk home from school into the flat and wait until Ron was ready to hit me..! That was added mental anguish.
So with no planing nor preparation I decided to run away from home. I had no money, only my school uniform on me and nowhere to go. I met my brother Gary during the afternoon break and told him to meet me at the school library at the home time Bell.
If memory serves me the library was beyond the green doors..!
During the last two lessons that afternoon I confided to my two friends Andy Wynn and Mark Pickering that I was running away from home. They both new and understood my position from previous conversations and were like true friends eager to help.
Not going home and my settling into the nest…
Firstly a place of refuge needed to be found. Somewhere warm and dry to wait it out until the Hue and Cry had died down. Mark came up with a great idea. Months before he had been part of the school stage production of Pirates of Penzance. He had taken his time while back stage to complete a thorough recce of every thing behind the curtains.
He told me that behind the curtains and at the rear of the stage to the left was a ladder. This led up vertically to a couple of little rooms. The first was maybe 5 by 3 meters, empty with a little round window from which you could see the righthand side of the road leading up to the school main doors. The second was the same size but held the water tank and had no window.
Mark Pickering, back center with the Hat..! During Pirates of Penzance..!
This was to be my hide away until all the fuss of me disappearing had died down. Nobody was to know, only Mark, Andy and myself. After our last lesson the three of us went to find Gary..!
Gary dutifully met us at the library where I handed him a letter I had written to Ron. In it I tried to explain my feelings about his hitting me, and how I’d had enough and would not be returning to his home.
The letter Gary dutifully handed to Ron. I so wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that exchange and when he read the letter. But sadly that moments lost to history..!
I told Gary that I was leaving Birmingham, but not sure where to. I’d get in contact when I was settled. This was pure subterfuge incase Gary was questioned as I knew he would be. Gary walk away down the stairs and headed home, I was hoping Ron would not shoot the messenger.
Then Mark, Andy and I headed for the Assembly Hall and the Stage. As everyone was focused on heading home for the night nobody paid any mind to us lads. I have generally found that if you walk with purpose and look like you know where you are going people will normally get out of your way. So unchallenged we made it to behind the stage curtain. Mark led the way to the Ladder.
It was a metal vertical ladder, maybe 50 rungs or more. But to us kids on an adventure it was easy. Once in the first room we checked out the window view. Then quietly in hushed whispers we decided on what we would need. Bedding, food, water, a radio, candles, a torch, books and the like.
There was not a great deal that could be achieved this evening, so my first night I would have to toughen it out. But Mark and Andy assured me they would return to school tomorrow with supplies.
All three of us descended the ladder, and from behind the stage curtain I watch my friends head off home. I now had to make myself scarce as the school caretaker would complete his rounds. Then he would secure the main doors before retiring for the evening at his cottage down by the main gate of the school. A good 85 meters from the school itself.
Maybe it’s because we lived in more trusting times, because the caretaker only secured the main school doors after shutting any ground floor widows he found open on his walk round the school. This he did at about 18:00hrs each evening, some times later if there were after school sports in the Gym.
From my little window in the Water Tower I watched the caretaker wander down to his home and a nice evening in front of the TV. He would have the luxury of a bed. I on the other hand had just the clothes I stood up in..! But winners find a way…!
While it was still light enough I had a good look around the back of the stage. It was as one might expect a bit of a mess. It sort of had two uses. The first was as a theatre stage and as such had the sort of things you might expect to find. Screens, false walls with doors. Empty cloths racks, Light Posts with lights and lots of packing cases with a myriad of cardboard props in.
The second use was as a Storage Area for things not immediately required by the school, but maybe needed. So stuff was stored behind the stage curtains rather than locked away under the stage. 100 stacked chairs, Tables, free standing Chalk Boards. That sort of thing.
Well if I was to be comfortable up in my little hide away I would be requiring some stuff. So I helped myself some things. A Chair, A large piece of board, and my biggest haul was a huge set of Old Stage Curtains. The chair obviously was to sit on, and also to stand on to help me get a better view out of the round window as it was just a little too high for me.
The piece of board was to lay over the ladder hole so if anyone was to look up they might think it was sealed and deter them from any exploration.
Then there was the Stage Curtains. Oh the fun I had with them, trying to get them up the ladder. Let me take a moment to explain. They were full stage curtains, they had been replaced by the newer ones hanging over the stage. Yet for some reason had not been thrown away, just stored at the back of the stage. They were possibly 12 meters tall by 18 meters wide and there were two of them.
My cunning plan was to carry them up the ladder and use them as bedding. So I decided for my first attempt I would take one. I sort of unrolled it till I got to where I thought the middle was. I then heaved that over my shoulder and progressed to the ladder. That bit was fairly easy, as most of the weight was still on the floor.
Thinking this is going to be easy, off up the ladder I went. Ten steps up the full weight of the curtain kicked in, at step twenty I thought my legs were on fire and I would loose the feeling in my hands. I had to ditch the curtain or risk a catastrophic fall. So I let the curtain fall to the floor. To my surprise it did not make as loud a noise as I had expected.
When ever I see a ladder like this, the memories come rushing back..!
I looped one arm through the ladder and held on until the feeling returned to my hands and I could make a decent of the ladder. Once back on terra firma, I took stock of my problem. I had to work out a way of getting the curtains up the ladder without a pulley system or rope of any kind. Time to put the brain to work.
It was about now I realised that I was sweating, a lot. So off came my School Blazer and Jumper. While I was cooling down I wandered around the boxes and theatre paraphernalia, looking for anything that might help me. I did pick up a few odds and ends to make life easier up in my nest. Yet there was nothing to help my immediate situation.
I was tired, very hungry and very frustrated with these two curtains. I did not want to sleep on the floor, nor be exposed by being found behind the stage sleeping on the curtains by anyone wishing to be nosey early in the morning. I had to find a solution..!
I had cooled down by now and with that came a little clarity of thought. I had been taught by many mentors to keep your problems simple and then apply a simple solution. So what was my problem..? The weight of the curtain. OK how do I reduce the weight..? My first thought was to cut the damn things in half, but a lack of anything sharp put that idea to bed.
So there I was sat on a pile of curtains at the bottom of a steel ladder looking up. I could see the high spot of my previous accent. The ladder was fixed to the wall by metal braces, I had reached about the third brace before my energy gave out. How was I to hold the curtain at that level while I rested, and how was I to rest if I still had to hold the curtain and myself in place..? Several ideas flashed in and out of my mind each as crazy or impractical as the next.
I had now laid back on the curtain, and was staring up the ladder from the bottom. It was from this view that the Steel braces holding the ladder were most visible. I mused a little longer, then the inkling of an idea started to bloom, which in turn became a plan.
A Plan….! Yes, I might have a bed tonight after all. From my reclined position I could see the ladder braces. They supported the ladder a good foot away from the wall. Here was ample space for me to tuck in the end of the curtain, and the ladder brace hold the weight of the curtain not me.
Laying on my back I replayed in my mind what I needed to do. First find the end of the curtain, the bit with the curtain hooks, this will be the heaviest end. With it, head on up the ladder to only the second brace. Tuck the curtain over the brace so it can support its own weight. Descend the ladder to get the other end of the curtain. Climb back up the ladder past the supported part another two more braces higher. Re-secure this end of the curtain and keep doing this until myself and the curtain are in the nest! The ladder supporting all the weight not me.
It certainly appeared easier in my minds eye than its actual operation. The curtain was still amazingly heavy. Between the first and second curtains I need a good half an hours rest. And on completion I was exhausted, hot, soaking in sweat and I knew my school shirt was filthy. Tired and now with very sore hands I descended the ladder yet again. The idea was to collect my school blazer and jumper and do a final walk around below to disguise my ever being there.
I retrieved my clothing, placed a few boxes at the base of the ladder to deter any one from approaching it. Then stopped to checkout my handy work. Just standing there I realised what a total mess I looked and felt. I did not want to head back up the ladder as I was. I had to do something to clean myself up.
Very carefully I approached the edge of the stage and peered around the curtain. The assembly hall was silent and there were no lights to be seen. I quickly dropped off the stage and hugging the right wall looked out the window down towards the Caretakers Home, not a light to be seen. I glanced for the first time this evening at my watch…It was 11:47 wow time had flown by. But I needed to get on, I had to get cleaned up and back up in my nest.. I was totally exhausted, but looking forward to my next half an hour.
Thought the school was in the dark it was not difficult to navigate its familiar hallways and I was soon in the corridor alongside the gym. I walked in the boys changing room stripped off and was about to shower when I realised I had no soap. OK a really hot shower even without soap would have been welcome but I felt filthy. I needed soap, so it was a quick dash into the girls changing room to be met by Bottles of this and Containers of that, each smelling as lovely as the next…
Back in the boys changing room with the shower on I felt like I was in heaven. With my newly acquired bottle of three in one shampoo working wonders on my body. I used the same stuff to wash my Shirt and Underwear. The hot water felt divine, and once I had completely swilled my wet clothing out I sort of got dressed, minus underwear and shirt. I popped the three in one back where I had taken it from. Then set off back to the assembly hall.
At each junction of corridors I would wait and listen for a good fifteen seconds to ensure that I would not step round a corner to meet the caretaker doing a night patrol. One cannot be too careful when you are “On The Run” and getting caught my first night would be shameful to say the least.
Once safely back behind the stage I made my way back up the ladder. Once in my nest I hung my wet clothing on the water tank to dry by the morning, then went to the floor below to where I had a little light from the round window, and settled down on my make shift bed. I was asleep in seconds.
It was the light and silence that woke me. The light entering through the round window and the abject silence I was experiencing. At home with Jeff and Gary, were I there, I would have been surrounded by the usual cacophony of sound associated with an awakening house. The flushing of toilets, the opening and closing of doors, voices hushed or otherwise. But up in my nest there was just total silence and the morning light streaming in through my round window.
For such a small window it let in an amazing amount of light. I checked my watch, it was only 06:15 a little early for school. But perhaps not too early for the caretaker to be out and about opening doors and things..! So I moved my bed near to the ladder entrance, laid my head near the opening and waited to see if I heard anything.
I passed the next hour or so in a doze, not really asleep but definitely not awake. Did I hear anything? I have no idea, was there anything there to hear? I doubt it but I was on tender hooks none the less. I would say that I was fully reawaken at around 07:30. Up in my nest it was still silence, there were not yet any sounds of the school coming to life. There was no Hue and Cry, so it felt safe to say that my whereabouts was still known only to our select few..!
I moved the chair that I had hauled up the ladder the night before to in front of the window. Standing without the chair to see out the window and look right down the road was somewhat of an effort, I was that little bit too short. Yet now with the chair I was just too high. My solution was to move the chair maybe a foot back from the window and lean a little forward, thus leaving me at the optimum hight to see the best out of the window.
I was in this position when to my horror I heard noises coming from down below me on the ladder. Bugger, I was trapped, I had nowhere to flee. Damn what was I to do? Ok I thought, nobody knows I’m here stay silent. It could be people just behind the stage, don’t panic. For me the best thing was to take a quick glimpse down the ladder and see if or what was happening.
A deftly as I could I stepped down from the chair and tiptoed to near the ladders edge, here I got on my hands and knees and then very slowly peered over the edge. What I saw gladdened my heart. It was non other than the smiling face of Mark Pickering about 8 rungs short of my nest.
To be honest I could have cried, but real men do not do that sort of thing, definitely not in front of a mate. So I assisted Mark up into my Nest. My golly was I happy to see him. A great man called Maslow once wrote that in addition to the basic requirements of nutrition, air and temperature regulation, the physiological needs also include such things as shelter and clothing. Maslow also included sociability in this level of the hierarchy of needs since it is essential to the survival and propagation of the species.
As I had not seen nor spoken to a soul since 17:00 the previous day and Mr Maslow was right it does a body good to have sociability. Not only was it good to see and chat with Mark, but he was also the bearer of gifts. I wish I could tell you of the treasure trove of goodies that Mark gave me. Were that my memory was so sharp today. But what I do remember was a packet of chocolate biscuits. They tasted like mana from heaven.
Mark brought other goodies too, but those biscuits hit the spot. While we were up in the nest trying to be as quiet as door mice, more noises were heard below. Without a care in the world Mark looked over the edge down the ladder and told Andy Wynn to hurry up..! Moments later the three of us were unloading the bag of goodies Andy had managed to bring from home.
Like the two awesome friends they are, they had kept their word. And now here I was up in the nest with a huge selection of items to enable me to survive. Two nicer friends I could not have wished for. Mark and Andy had now to disappear and continue with daily school life as if nothing were wrong. They would keep an ear out for any gossip flying around the school with reference to a missing child. And also check in with Jeff and Gary as to what was being done to track me from the adult world.
A plan was put in place for the guys to visit me at the end of the school day, just to check in and take a list of any requirements that I may need. There was never any promise of procuring my desires, but they did say they would do their best.
I’m not at all sure who supplied what on that first day but once they had both left I took stock of the things the guys had equipped me with. Over the course of one night the guys had provided me with a sleeping bag, torch, gas cooker with two pots, a cup, knife, fork and spoon. Water container, a radio, and a huge variety of food, some fresh but mostly tins. Not forgetting the chocolate biscuits.
Even though Andy and Mark had now left me to my own devices I must say my confidence was high. I had Water, Food, Shelter, and Sociability. Mr Maslow would have been proud of me..!
Settling in and getting a routine.
Through Friday I had lots of time to take stock of my situation and work a few things out. Jeff and Gary had told Mark and Andy that the Council were not overly impressed with Ron. Gary and Jeff had been through the inquisition over my whereabouts. But because we had not told them where I was they had no information to give up willingly or not..! They didn’t even know I was in School.
The council had made it clear that every effort was to be made to find me and get me to a secure location back under the councils protection. This in the eyes of the council was back with Ron…
I on the other hand was having none of that.. no matter how long it took. I was not returning to Ron. So I had to settle into my nest for the long haul. And this is what I did. Having taken stock of my immediate surroundings I realised both of my little rooms needed a good clean. So it was down the ladder to get a broom and other cleaning items from behind the stage.
I did the best I could at sprucing up my little rooms and was quite proud when it was all done. I could touch things now without getting dirty hands or causing clouds of dust..! I started to relax and decided to listen to the Radio. But before I could do that I needed to do a sound check. I turned the radio on and kept the volume relatively low. I then headed off down the ladder. At about six steps down I could no longer hear the radio. So now I had a maximum volume that I could safely listen to with no fear of detection, even from wandering hostiles far below.
Friday evening after school Andy, Mark and I had a Chinese Parliament. This is where you sit around and have a discussion about all and everything. Nothing is off the table, no idea too bizarre or foolish. Each idea is discussed then put to one side to be used or rejected.
A couple of the things that became obvious was if I were to see the guys coming into school they had to walk up the right side of the roadway to make them visible for longer. Also if a visit was to happen before school started then they would touch their heads. For a lunch time visit their stomach would be touched, and if after school then they would stop and touch their feet, as if to tighten a shoe lace. It was a simple code but it worked.
Things like extra food requirements for weekends, as it would be best for the guys not to approach school after hours as that would cause suspicion. Also I didn’t want my school work to slacken off so Andy and Mark who were both in my classes in school kept me abreast of class work. The reasoning behind this was so on my eventual return to society I would not get farmed off to another class.
One great benefit I had within the school was that the school library was not locked at night so once the caretaker had done his rounds and I had given him a good hour to settle down. It was off to the library for me. I would probably read a book in a day and a half, sometimes in a day. Then the next evening it was back to the library for more mind food. The beauty of having access to the books meant that through reading I could transpose myself out of my little room to wondrous places around the world. Places I promised myself I would go and see one day.
Alaska, under the great Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Golden Buddha, seeing Lions and Elephants on safari. To sail the Indian ocean on a Dhow. The books in my school library fed my imagination as well as helping pass the time up in my little nest. And for this I am truly grateful.
New discoveries in my school.
My time in hiding soon turned from days to weeks. And it soon became apparent that food was becoming an issue. Both Mark and Andy were rummaging through there mothers kitchens and having away anything that wasn’t nailed down. I cannot thank them both enough, nor their poor suffering mothers who though not having any idea of what was going on must have been wondering who was eating all their food..!
Mark did tell me months later once I had returned to the real world. That his mother on finding out what Mark had done, told him that she had suspected her husband of coming home late from work and he was raiding the fridge. She thought this because nothing disappeared during the day or early evening. She also never mentioned it to her husband as he worked hard and wasn’t putting on weight. I can only thank Mrs Pickering for her tolerance..!
At one of our Chinese Parliament’s it was decided we needed help on the food front. The solution we decided on was to invite another friend Tim Sharman into our circle of trust. In the hope his mother had a well stocked kitchen. Once Tim had been briefed to what we had been doing, and for how long. He was more than willing to help. Soon my food supplies were healthily stocked again.
Having food is one thing, cooking it is another. Some foods are OK cold, like Spam, tins of Spaghetti Hoops. But it is rather nice, certainly for your mental state to eat warm cooked food. The situation I had was, that I only had a Gas Burner that did one pot. This meant hot food or a hot drink. I just did not have the Gas reserves to do both. My solution came from a very bizarre place.
One night as I was heading to the library when I noticed a light on in a classroom I had to walk past. I had encountered this before. It was not a great problem. It just ment that I did not want to give my presence away by my silhouette passing in front of the light for all to see if they were looking. My solution was easy, back track and go up stairs and over the offending room, or totally go around it. If I could I would look into the room from afar just to check it was just a random light left on. And that there was no human activity present. One can never be too careful…
This evening my detour took me along a less-travelled part of the school. It took me along the Home Economics corridor. Somewhere that I as a guy would not normally go, there were guys who did. They attended classes in Home Economics and went on to become Chef’s and the like. But for me, I travelled the woodworking path, a totally different part of the school. This area was a little new to me.
As I was walking down the corridor as I did every night I would try all the door handles. This was so I knew if I heard footsteps which doorway I could slip behind and hide. As I got to the door in the middle of the corridor the door silently opened with just a gentle twist of my wrist. What was beyond the door was a cornucopia, a veritable treasure chest.
What I had stumbled upon was the Home Economics Class, in here was a utopia of goodies. This department was run by a lady called Mrs Vaughan Thomas. I knew her as the cookery teacher. I didn’t realise, that beyond cooking, she exposed her students to the whole world of home management. And to facilitate this she had at her disposal, a compleat little Flat laid out in her department. And I had just walked into it.
There was a TV, Radio Gram, Settee and Chairs, Coffee Table, Sideboard, Lamps…But what got me excited was the fully functional kitchen. Resplendent with pots and pans, plates, knives and forks. You name it it was there…! I had now secured a place where I could heat up my food. Leaving my little gas cooker just for a hot drink at midday up in the nest.
Here I could warm food up properly, make toast, coffee, boils eggs. There was no limit to what was on offer now. I could within reason cook any and all of my supplies here. Why not..? In the dark, I had a good look around, taking stock of what was available, and making mental notes for the future. I wish I could have bottled the feelings that I experienced then. I was on a truely positive high. No dodgy substances involved, just high on life…!
Closing the door quietly behind me I hurried back to the Nest. I had just about had it with cold food. It was time to strike while the iron was hot so to speak. Who knows, the door may be locked tommorrow. Up in the nest I selected a tin of Spaghetti Hoops, a tin of Spam and the remaining half a loaf of bread that I had. Then I made my way silently back to the Home Economics Department. My new favourite place in school.
Once back in the Flat area, I had to give some thought to my actions before doing anything. Mrs Vaughan Thomas if she was like any other woman I have ever had the pleasure of being around. She would know exactly where everything was in her kitchen at home. But this Kitchen she spent longer in than the one she had at home, here she spent her working day. I would have to be very careful not to foolishly give my presence away. I could not aford a slip up.
So with that in mind, I decided though there was lots of equipment to use. I would be minimalistic. I would only use one pan, the tin opener and one spoon on this trial run. The contents of both tins were poured in to the pan and the spam chopped into small chunks with the spoon. A drizzle of water was added to stop the contents sticking to the pan, then onto the hob to heat it through. Stiring occasionally so it didn’t burn.
How can I describe that meal? In all honesty it should have been awarded a Michelin Star. Great Orators should be roaming our hallowed halls of learning telling everyone about it. To me it was that good. I ate it out of the pan with a few slices of unbuttered bread. Using the last slice to wipe the pan base clean…! For a few moments I sat there on the settee basking in my glory, I had a full stomache of warm food, something that I could repeat in the future.
But the time for basking would have to wait. I now had to tidy up and make myself scarce. So washing the pan, tin opener and spoon, I replaced them exactly where I got them from. Then collected my empty tins and bread bag, and had one final check that I was leaving everything as I had found it. Then I slipped off back into the night hoping my presence would not be detected.
I had many meals there, but that first one was divine. I really must take my hat off to Mark, Andy and Tim without whose support my endeavor would have been a failure from the start.
I must be honest, I did have some really comical food combinations. Some worked, others I just had to man up and just eat. I didn’t have the food to waste or be picky. May I just add to any person eating on a budget…Stay well away from Anchovies. They are the Devils work, and will repeat on you for days. And have a smell that takes hours to get rid of.
My favourite meals were generally pasta based. I would cook the pasta in my single pan until really cooked. I prefer soft pasta. Then I would add the Tin of the day straight into the pasta water. Mix it well and have a sort of Pasta Soup. Some things worked well others not so. Good things were Spam, Corned Beef, Two or three eggs. Tins of Soup.
Things that didn’t work so well was anything powder based, as it would tend to lump up and not mix well. This was not easy to detect in the dark. And many a time I would get a spoon full of Pasta with a powder bomb hidden inside. But over all I must say with the assistance of Mrs Vaughn Thomas’s Home Economics Department I ate well.
I have to be honest and declare that my survival up in the nest was no real hardship. I was warm and dry, with ample food and water. My friends visited me regularly and I had free access to the library to stimulate my mind.
Were I outside roughing it in the wilds in some forest I’m sure I would be telling a different tale, one of sorrow and hardship. My survival success was totally down to my awesome friends and their unwavering support. And for this I will be forever in their debt.
In this life or the next if ever they need my help. They need only ask. And I’ll be there like a shot.
My existence as the Harbourn Hill School Ghost proceeded quite well. I had good food, great facilities to cook it. Hot showers and access to the school library to stimulate my mind. Daily visits from my friends. Life for the moment was good.
As the days passed and I wasn’t discovered. I knew that I could not exist here for ever at some point I would have to come out of hiding and face the music. This was an event I didn’t relish. I had not seen the real outside world for weeks. And not being totally stupid I was sure that I had annoyed and inconvenienced a lot of people.
While up in the water tower one evening I decided that the time was right for me to venture out. I gave my plan some serious thought. Because I just could not casually walk in and out of school, way too many people knew me and knew I was missing.
I would have to leave and re enter in stealth mode. The solution I came up with was to leave school out of the rear entrance at about five o’clock in the morning. Using the cover of darkness to hide my movements. I would return the same way in the dark. I decided that I would try the next day while I was still enthusiastic. I would need to be well rested as tomorrow was going to be a long day, so it was early to sleep for me.
Waking up early was no problem. I quickly dressed, descended down to the School Main Hall and headed towards the back of the school. Now, I knew fully well that the school doors were securely locked and that went for all ground floor windows too. Were I to leave one open it would just draw attention to my means of entry and exit. I would have to be more cunning.
The solution to my dilemma I had read about in the real life exploits of a KGB spy. This gentleman needed a way of keeping a self locking door from doing just that ‘Self Locking’
The manner in which he achieved this was to take out the insole of his shoe, peel off the top layer and fold it into three or four thicknesses then once he had opened the door he inserted the folded material into where the spring loaded lock would sit in the opposit door jam once the door closed again. This prohibited the door from locking yet the door would look to all intents and purposes closed and locked.
I was going to do this on the rear fire door. But I wasn’t going to vandalise my fairly new Clarks school shoes. I had brought along a strip of cardboard. I understand that cardboards soft and that there may have been a likelyhood of is slowly getting squeezed and enabling the lock to lock. But it is not just about folding the cardboard. You must bend it over its self, thus resulting in a rockhard piece of cardboard.
Now, I’m sure in times like today the Fire Doors of school are wired up to the local Fire Brigade. And if one were to open one, Half of Birminghams finest fire fighters would decend on you in minutes. Yet thankfully in the more relaxed erra of my school days this was not the case. One could open and close the fire doors at will, though frowned upon, it was posible.
So cardboard at the ready I opened the fire door. I inserted into the lock the piece of bent cardboard, then from the inside I tested if it worked by closing the door. Yes from where I stood the door looked closed and locked. Now not touching the lock or door handle I gently pushed the door with my foot.
Like the wardobe door to Narnia, or the front door to 221B Baker Street. It slid open without a sound. For this I would like to thank The Academy of Foreign Intelligence previously known as the Red Banner Institute one of the primary espionage academies of Russia, and previously the Soviet Union, without who’s assistance the door would have remained locked.
So to secure the door from the outside I used another folded piece of cardboard as a wedge, but this time I used it so as to be trapped by the closeing door. In effect jamming the door closed. I did this as I didn’t want the door to swing open on its own, or get blown open by the wind.
My route into Birmingham from the back of school..!
Now just as the begings of dawn started to peep over the area of Richmond Hill Rd, I had to make myself scarce. Sticking close to the trees that were at the edge of the sports area I head towards Belgrove Close and a piece of school fence I knew to be damaged and my way out into the wilds of Birmingham.
Once I had left the school grounds, I relaxed a bit. It was good to be out in the fresh air. Though I did look a little disheveled, I was clean and presentable. And a kid wandering the streets of Birmingham in a school uniform did not look out of place that early in the morning…!
However I knew that I could not roam the streets all day. Birmingham council had a bevy of school truant officers all on the lookout for wayward kids not in school. I could not afford to run into one of those..! I need a place of sanctuary, where I could blend in or disappear. It also had to be free, as I had no money, warm and dry would be a huge bonus and within walking distance…!
By the time I had walked to the junction of Summerset Rd and Edgbaston Park Rd. I had made my decision. I was going to head for Birmingham Library. In the hope a kid sat quietly reading in a far off corner of the library would just be left alone. My walk north to the fiveways round about and Broad Street flew by, it was good to be able to stretch my legs, and my rapid movement kept the cold at bay as it was a tippicaly chilly morning. The only down side to my trip was that I was making too good a time and the library would not be open. So I took a detour down Gas Street Basin to the Canal. In the hope of seeing some Canal boats and burning up a bit of time.
I wasn’t disappointed there were boats there, just not the gaily coloured house boats I was thinking of. Rather the dark dirty busy looking boats of hard working people making a living on the canals. Even though they were not picture postcard boats they were interesting enought to watch as they started their morning routine. I must have wasted a good hour watching them.
Back on Broad St. It leads you directly to the Library of Birmingham. As I recall Birmingham Library was a horrible monstrosity of a building, looking like a badly shaped, and poorly stacked collection of boxes. With a sloping set of huge steps leading to its entrance. Totally spoiling the 1880 Chamberlain Memorial Fountain, which I feel is a work of Art that is found infront of the Library.
The Monstrosity of Birmingham Library, but it was warm and dry..
So for me it was past the Fountain, up the stairs and into the library. There was a reception area where people could seek advice from a Librarian, but I gave that a wide birth and headed into the depths of the Library. I knew where I was heading, up to the Greek Mythology section. I was going to while my day away with Apollo, Poseidon and Zeus…
I must give credit to the Library, as the outside looks shockingly bad. The inside was fantastic, especially to me. It was warm dry and very comfortable, with secluded reading areas. Just what a chap on the run needs. Could it get any better?
Now, I’m not a religious sort of person. I have never been a God botherer. But there is a little bit of me that believes in Fate and Karma. Perhaps by choosing the Greek Gods to read about I had triggered some benevolence from them, because at about Ten O’clock the library seemed to fill with school children. They were all over the place, and I was just another one blending in…
They say time flies by when you are having fun, perhaps it’s the same when you are battling with the invading army of Persians led by Xerxes, while stood shoulder to shoulder with King Leonidas. Books can take you anywhere and into any time zone, they truely are Time Machines for the mind.
Four o’clock seemed to rappidly approach and I felt it best to make a move as the other school classes were getting assembled in order to leave. And I did not need any well intentioned member of staff asking me where the rest of my class were. So very nochalontley I made my way back out into the crisp evening air. It felt like I had just spent nearly seven hours surounded by hundreds of people yet nobody had actually seen me.
It got me to thinking about our Old, Infirm, Disabled and Destitute on the streets. You can be there just not seen. I did find that sad, in seven hours not a single soul had spoken to me. Which don’t get me wrong was ideal for me. But it did set me wondering.
With deep thoughts in my head I found myself on Bristol Street, The A1 Bus runs the lenght of Bristol street and takes you south to Edgbaston, and the Cricket Grounds. And who lives near there but my dear old mate Andy Wynn.
So with renewed vigour in my step I started to head down the Bristol Rd. Blending in with the myriad of other kids heading home from school. I had no idea what I was going to do when I got to Andy’s street. Maybe wait outside see if he was there, Walk on by and head back to school. I just had not thought of my options, to be honest in my mind I was just wandering around to kill time, so it would get dark and I would be able to head back to school and the nest and some food.
Andy’s family lived on Sir Harry’s Rd, about the Third House on the left as you enter it from the Bristol Rd. I had just passed Susan and Ruth Routledges house they live on the Bristol Rd, when there I was at the end of Andy’s Rd. I had no idea what to do, but as I was there it seemed stupid to waste the oppertunity of a visit.
And thats how I found myself knocking on Andy’s frontdoor. I’m not at all sure who answered the door, but the whole family was home. Andy, Mandy his sister, his Mum and Dad and their Dog. I was greeted at the door then Andy arrived with a look of shock. He and I stayed at the door, him quickly asking if everthing was OK… I said yes and that I was out and about getting fresh air for the day.
Now feeling that everything was OK he invited me into his home. We sat in his living room under the pretext of sorting out home work. Andy’s mum popped her head in on occasion to ask if we wanted a cup of tea, this was gladly accepted. Then about tifteen to twenty minutes later I was asked if I would like to stay for Tea. The thought of real food cooked by someone else on a real plate dispelled all of my cautionary instincts, and I gladly accepted.
I have no distinct memory of what we ate. But I do recall that we were all seated at the table, Mandy, Andy, Jerry myself and Andy’s Mum. During the ongoings of the meal, which I must add I was enjoying immensely. Andy’s Mum disappeared into the hall way to conduct a phone call, something to do with her work…! Moments later, Jerry was called to the phone…An event that I and Andy paid no mind to as we were feasting. And young boy’s can only focus on one thing at a time…!
After a short while Andy’s Mum and Jerry returned to the table. And then the conversation turned to me. The questions were polite. Things like “How was I feeling, How had I been keeping…?” Then from Andy’s Mum..”Are You The John Gardner We Have Spent Weeks Looking For..?”
“We..?” I asked back. “Yes we, I’m a police woman..” Replied Andy’s Mum. “We have been looking everywhere for you…!”
Well that was it the Gig was Up. While sat at the dinning table, there was no option of making a run for it. So I resigned myself to being caught. Well I had to surrender myself in at some point so why not now..? And nobody was screaming or shouting at me. So lets see what happens.
While I sat at the dinning table a few things shot through my mind. I was aware Andy’s Dad was a Taxi Driver, Andy had told me and he was very proud of how hard his father worked. But how in the name of all the Gods including the Flying Spaghetti Monster could he miss out on telling me his Mum was a Police Officer…!
Now don’t get me wrong, I was fully aware that I had upset an awful lot of people with my disapearing trick. And hasty phone calls were being made and received, mainly by Andy’s Mum. Eventually there was a lull in the phone calls and it was explained to me that ‘The Chap’ from the council Child Care Department was going to come and take me back to Ron and Valery’s. The Council were adamant that I be returned to my legal guardians.
So there was I, a young kid, who had fled from a bad relationship. And the piority for the Child Care Services was to return me to that very same environment..! Well if I had anything to do with it that was not going to happen. The calmest and most reasonable person in those particular moments was Andy’s Mum. She came and sat with me to explain the councils wishes. It was at this point I made it clear to her that I did not wish to return to Ron’s care…! I had already sampled his care and attention..! And was not overly keen to return to it..!
So I made it quite clear that if I was to be returned to Ron’s care I would abscond again at the earliest opportunity, That very night if I could..! More phone calls were made, some very heated exchanges were given. Then Andy’s Mum and Jerry came and joined us kids in the living room. To lay out the plan.
As I recall an ammicable solution had been found. As it was late, it must have been close to eight in the evening by now. And the council would have difficulty securing a foster home for me at such short notice. And as Valery and Ron’s was out of the question. Andy’s Mum decided that I should remain with family Wynn for the night. And a decision about me would be worked out on the morrow. This decision the council agreed to, and I must say here started a truly wonderful phase of my life with the awesome family that is Family Wynn..!
Before I disclose things about Andy’s family I feel that I should seek his permission and approval, so the next chapter dear readers must be put on hold until that is done. So as they say on the radio, “Stay tuned, there is more to come…! Don’t touch that dial…we will be right back…!”
Chesty Traveling 