UNITED KINGDOM, Feb 07 — The first thing that happened after the crash of glass was the sound of a gasp from my startled Mum and her words of “my God what have you done.” I too wondered and then instantaneously realized that perhaps as a punishment for my lack of awareness of him, God had almost sliced of my arm. We had no telephone to summon help nor car in which to carry my profusely bleeding body off in, but we had something better. Our device was easily avoidable but the wrath of my father was not
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he first thing that happened after the crash of glass was the sound of a gasp from my startled Mum and her words of “my God what have you done.” I too wondered and then instantaneously realized that perhaps as a punishment for my lack of awareness of him, God had almost sliced of my arm. We had no telephone to summon help nor car in which to carry my profusely bleeding body off in, but we had something better. We were surrounded by small enterprising shops.There were two Grocery shops, one a Co-Op where you got the ‘Divi’ and had to quote your membership number which I knew by heart.
A butchers, a hairdressers, a greengrocery, an off-license, a fish and chip shop, three sweets and tobacconists one selling newspapers, another the best ice-cream I’d tasted and the final one where I was sent for my fathers Golden Virginia and packet of green papers and his occasional bar of ‘Caramac.’ But far more important to the situation that I found myself in, there was a Doctors Surgery which was closed and a Chemist which wasn’t. It was there amongst the tall glass jars of mysterious pills and potions that after an initial examination and making no fuss over the two foot high gush of blood from the artery that I had severed, I was literately ‘stitched up’ with him sending me back home with no more than a flea in my ears.
For one reason or another that sickly colored storage and tool shed became a fascination of mine and may account for a recently remark from a doctor that I had a strong heart. In there was a bulb-less light fitting, mounted high on the side and, hidden behind some other things, were the metal roods used to clean the chimneys. I found a more practical use for both idle utensils. I would recline comfortably against the switch for that redundant light and poke the chimney roods into it, then switch it on and off again, passing the electric current through my unearthed body. As I say it seemingly did some good, other than the sensation it gave me at the time, but I wouldn’t recommend it and haven’t even told my Granddaughter of it.
I moved on to other things. I found a kindred spirit living not far from me and together we ventured into the field of becoming urban freedom fighters.
Although Abbey Woods were beyond our manor and out of reach on School nights we had plenty of other open places on which to hone our skills and practice our planned offensives for the guerrilla campaign we intended to launch. One such place, Winn’s Common, there was a fantastic steep gorge falling away in a long abandoned and desolate valley where all manner of potential weapons and equipment could be found. I have, of course, mentioned the profusion of shops around me here I should add that not only was I thankful of that fact, but also the locality of Hospitals. One was adjacent to this wilderness.
It was not a consideration in our choice but one that I, in particular, was thankful for.
The first occasion that I visited was after Micky, my soul mate and being four months older than me, delegated me to try out our first weapon of mass destruction. The plan was simple enough and quite straight forward, the execution however was not. We dug a hole as best we could using anything we could adapt for such purpose, then covered it with broken branches from the few silver birch trees and the many bracken bushes to form our ‘bobby-trap’ with the intention of stuffing any fallen, helpless victim stupid enough not to see it, into an old rusting dustbin we had found, and rolling him/her down into that valley.
I was to try the rolling bit first. It was an experiment I willingly undertook, as being a Lion by birth right, and attending Sunday School through necessity, I was fearless. My subsequent broken wrist and the bruising to Micky’s legs, which I caused by kicking him before falling over again and again, proved not to be of any great concern to the Emergency X-Ray Department at ‘St. Nick’s’ but were to our respective parents. We were forced to find alternative prey.
The road outside my home was a busy one with three different bus routes passing through and a sprinkling of cars and the like. We, as liberators, decided to mount battle against this motorized intrusion to the otherwise calm and tranquility of the area. We stood on the corner and threw stones at all and sundry daring to pass.This was in ’59 or 1960 so the traffic was free-flowing and we never imagined that anyone would stop and chase us, but one man did. I escaped but Micky, poor chap, was captured and before my Dad again punished me, I heard him tell of the brutal torture he had endured before he just had to give up my address.
One protester would not stop our revolution, we had contingency plans! Some six inch nails were procured and expertly driven through a two inch thick piece of wood then with some string attached propelled into the road. This was my idea and as such should, I believe, receive recognition from the Police as they now use an adaption of this to stop stolen cars or escaping robber’s, but none has come my way perhaps now it will. Our device was easily avoidable but the wrath of my father was not. My bum ached for weeks.
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