What was in store for me?, What would I find in this country that had a magic appeal for me? England. Wasn't this where everything happened? The Beatles were still conquering the world and they came from Liverpool. Downing Street, Big Ben, the Tower of London, all waiting for me in England. . The women, whom I'd heard were very easygoing sexual-wise, had a treat coming! I would have a great time!
The lads, Willy and Billy, had phoned to say that my digs were all fixed up in their abode so accommodation was no problem. The journey was long but I finally arrived at Reading station in Berkshire full of great expectations, cabbing it to my new home.
It was situated in a quiet back street and looked respectable. The landlady opened the door. She was around forty with red hair and she looked a sour-faced bitch. You know how sometimes you can take an instant dislike to someone? Well, she took one of those to me. The lads were at work so I waited some hours to see a friendly face.
If the landlady was bad, her husband was worse!! Deaf as a post, he was a typical cor blimey Londoner and trying to converse with him was like speaking to the wall. Married to him, no wonder the landlady was a miserable bitch who must have been in frustration hell, both mentally and physically as he was pug ugly with a corporation belly that must have made the sex act with him very difficult. I said to Willy that I'd give a week's wages just to see them on the job!!
The trouble soon started! I had been paired up in the same room with Billy and one day not too long after my arrival, the landlady accused me of urinating on the floor. Apparently my bedroom floor had been discovered floating in water, and I, as the new boy, got the blame! I vehemently denied this but protestations were in vain. Marching orders were delivered!!
What a start to my glamourous life in England!! Booted out for pissing on the floor!! I had until the end of the week to find new digs and was quite miserable about it, not knowing where I would end up.
But the reprieve came when one night I awoke to the sound of nearby running water. Up I leapt in shock!! Had a pipe burst? No, there he was, Billy, standing in the middle of the floor, drunk, in all his glory, happily pissing away! I called Willy and he got the landlady to witness the phantom piddler. I was absolved. What a relief! (pun intended)
Billy got a severe warning but not, I observed, his eviction notice.
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Out into the friendless world again. My bankroll was ten shillings. Desperation! I couldn't survive on that so I did something that I'd never done even in the blackest moments in Jersey-I stole. I firmly believe that anybody can do wrong if circumstances dictate. The judge who sentences a person for a crime would perhaps have done the very same thing in their shoes. Who's to know? My victim? I didn't see him and he didn't see me.
At the corner of Tottenham Court Road there was a newsvendor stall with nobody in attendance. The trusting owner counted on the buyer putting the correct money for the paper into a box next to the papers. I watched for a while but couldn't see anybody nearby. I thought about my aching belly and where I'd be staying tonight and decided that morals had to be suspended.
I took out a sixpence, concealing it well in my hand, and marched up to the stand with a confident air. Taking a paper, I placed the sixpence in the box and took out as change, a halfcrown, (two and a half pence and twelve and a half pence respectively). I marched away quickly, feeling as guilty as hell and expecting to hear a shout behind me but the thief got away scot-free. I suppose the only thing that salved my conscience in a small way was the thought that some other bandit might have nicked the lot!
I got through the day by just walking about the streets of London, and I think I had a hamburger and tea somewhere. The night was approaching again and my eternal problem, it seemed, a resting place, had not been taken care of yet, so very reluctantly I made my way back to Covent Garden. I didn't notice the smell so much this time. Proves that you can get used to anything!
Monday morning came. Thank God for Monday morning! I made my way to the labour exchange, which was up in north London. I remember a long, hard walk, as it was about three miles away. Another ordeal awaited. The big barren hall was cheerless. I have a theory that these places are decorated in the most miserable fashion in the hope that the surroundings will get you down so much hanging about in them, waiting your turn, that you'll fuck off, drown yourself and so save the government money.
It was crowded. Nearly all the wooden benches were occupied but I found a seat. The format in these hellholes is that you take a numbered ticket and wait your turn. My companions were the dregs of the earth. Winos, tramps, head-cases, and I was amongst them. Maybe I belonged there. Maybe this would be my kind of life forever. Suddenly the river Thames sounded very inviting.
I was treated to the sight of a pathetic case nearby, picking imaginary fleas off himself and tossing them up into the air and cursing them. He couldn't have been always that way. Maybe one day he had been just like me.
I eventually got to the clerk at the window. I related my sob story to him, got a couple of pounds emergency payment and was placed on the register. To the clerk's credit, he treated me like a human being. I remember him telling me that I wasn't the usual kind of client he had to deal with.
It must be a heluvva way to earn to earn a crust, dealing with all the scum under the sun, every working day of your life. Thank you, sir. I couldn't do it. He also phoned up and arranged for a job for me in a Wimpy Bar in the City, which is the main business area of London, starting the following day.
I was delighted. At last the bad times were over. Maybe.
Related articles:
The saga of John The Man
& Walter Stanley
Radio Daze
Contact John Johnson at: Ph. 087 6628100
Email: jonjo456@yahoo.ie
