However, what is born into us never really goes away and I was born to travel and I do it when I can. What I do miss is the opportunity to do more of it. All my travelling,(except for holidays) was done in the course of my work. Here there is not enough work for the young without oldsters like myself coming in and taking the few jobs there are. Besides, as an "Old Trucker" I would not enjoy driving a vehicle with all the technology they have today. On board computers and GPS tracking devices so the office,(BOSS) knows exactly where you are, if you are moving or stopped, mobile phones to call you anytime, you don't even carry a spare wheel, not to save the driver from having to change it but because the equivalent weight in cargo is paid for. Even breakdown repairs are organised by the office. They even plan your routes, departure and arrival times. The driver is just that and does not get his hands dirty, or his uniform. UNIFORM!! Yes it is that regimented now. Taken all the fun out of the job, and the camaraderie and that was international back when you stopped to help another driver with problems, no matter what nationality, --- because it could be you tomorrow.
So what am I doing writing ? Well new friends do ask about your former life, not the personal stuff, more about your work etc; and that in my case means my travels. When I am sharing the details of some experience in a far off place, I do what all travellers do, re-live it. This is I think, what makes the tale interesting, it is what enthuses people. The outcome is that someone always says, "Why don't you write it down?"
So, having no scheduled work and a lot of, "Time on my hands" as they say and especially the persistence of a fiend,(sorry) friend, I feel I must at least make an effort to do just that.
New years eve, 1939.
I am sure this is my first accurate memory, as opposed to remembering something that has been told to me in later years. I did not know at the time of course, that it was the custom in those days for the darkest complexioned person living in the house to, `Let the New Year in.` It involved the person leaving the house just before midnight carrying a piece of coal, bread, and money. At the midnight hour the elected person would knock on the door and being duly admitted would wish everyone a `Happy New Year`. At the same time presenting the home with the symbols of, warmth, food and money, in an effort to ensure the prosperity of the home in the coming year. I think that my mothers concept of me was flawed at that time, or mam would not have agreed to me being the elected person. She probably did not know that I wasn't exactly the "good, obedient boy" she thought I was. But then again, neither did I. When I thought to do something, `right` or `wrong` was not considered. I just, did it. Fortunately for me we do develop the intelligence to differentiate between the two. Or maybe it is because a heavy strap laid across the buttocks by my despairing father on more than a few occasions did the trick. Whatever, it does not matter, the fact is if I had not learned, I might not be here today. If it was you, " Good on you, Dad." I might also take this opportunity to thank dad for teaching me the time. On each occasion when I did not arrive home from school when I should, and I am not talking by minutes, I am talking about hours. Leaving school at 3.30pm and arriving home four or five hours later, I had to suffer, `The Strap`. Dad would tell me how many strokes I would receive for each hour I had been absent. Then I had to count the hours, tot up the number of strokes I was going to get. After a few strokes he would pause, I had to keep count and tell him how many more I had to suffer and I had to be correct, then he would repeat the process till I had received the correct dose.
Let me make it quite clear, my father was not a cruel and vicious man. He was the most patient, kind and honest man I have ever known. He just did not know how to deal with his errant son. He never did cure me of `going off on my travels`, but he did show me the right way to go about it, and so, so much more that has shaped me and my life.
Dad eventually went to California after my mother died, married again and spent, in his words, " the best three years of my life overlooking the Pacific Ocean, scanning the sea for whales and Catalina Island through a telescope set up on the patio." He deserved it and I was lucky enough to go over and tell him so before he died in 1982.
I mentioned earlier his honesty! When he re-married, the UK pensions people of the time sent him a wife's allowance and he would not spend it. He got in touch with them and explained that Emily was his SECOND wife and he did not think he was entitled to it. He had to have a printed hard copy assurance that he was entitled, before he would touch a penny or cent of it. Some man my dad.
My family lived in a modest `two up two down` terraced house, it was the third house from the ginnel, (an alley separating the next block of houses.) so the instructions mam and dad gave me were hardly daunting. "Just go out the back door, past two doors, left through the ginnel, left again, past two doors and when you hear a lot of bells and people shouting knock on the door of our house." The thing I couldn't understand was the fact that it was way past my bed time, I was in my pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. Strangest of all, I had to carry a piece of coal, a piece of bread and a coin. I remember feeling as if this was a trick of some sort that would get me laughed at in the street. At that age I didn't know the word `embarrassed` I just felt uncomfortable about it. However, mam and dad were deadly serious about it so at the appointed time I was ushered out the back door with the `bits and bobs`.
It was a mild night and very pleasant with all the stars in the sky, it was rare to be outside when it was dark, except to go to the lavvy that was in a brick building across the yard, so I think all us kids walked with heads upturned looking at the moon and marvelling at what we later learned were constellations. I duly turned into the ginnel and came to the street where I was to turn left to my house and something startling happened. I didn't fall over, I wasn't accosted, I didn't pee myself with fright at the dark. I HAD A THOUGHT !
I looked left, looked right and thought, `We take my sister to school this way`, and off I went. All what mam and dad had told me to do gone from my mind. I was off on my travels.
Sometime in the middle of the night a lady found me wandering near the school my sister attended and took me into her home. It was a normal `two up two down` house, the front room converted to a shop. The backroom a living space with a regular cast iron fireplace. A boiler on one side and an oven on the other and a lovely warm and glowing coal fire in the centre. The room was dimly lit and the lady fussed over me and when she cuddled me she smelt like mothers do, very pleasant, warm and comforting. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep. I must have slept for a long time and when I awakened the lady assured me that mam and dad were coming for me. It had taken so long to contact the police etc, that by this time it was the afternoon of the next day. I think that at three years old I did not feel I had done wrong and was not troubled at the prospect of facing mam and dad. Or maybe I just didn't give a damn because I was enjoying myself, tearing up newspaper and eating Jelly and cream.
That was the first of my many adventures and over the years, I hate to the think of how many times my mother uttered the words," He's off on his travels." I once overheard her say to a neighbour," That lad will drive me to distraction." Guess I have been guilty of that too many times as well.
My only excuse is, " I was born to travel."
Great start Roy. looking forward to the next post!
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