I was born at 70, Beech Road, Hale, being educated at the nearby Stamford Park Infant School, then Stamford Park Junior School, then Sale Boys Grammar School. My local play area was Stamford Park, just at the bottom of Beech Road. At the back of our house we had quite a large garden, with a lawn to the right and flowerbed and shrubbery to the left of the path. At the bottom of the flowerbed was a hawthorn tree and at the bottom of the lawn was a mountain ash tree, both looking very attractive when in seed, the hawthorn tree with pink blossom and the mountain ash having yellow blossom. Click here for a photo of my nephew, Keith, aged about 9, standing just in front of the hawthorn tree.
When I was aged 11, I discovered the joys of naturism, in the early hours of the morning in our back garden. Soon I ventured further away from the house, initially down the entry, then along Cedar Road and left down to Stamford Park, where I would feed the ducks. The streets were totally silent in the early hours of the morning which meant I was never seen. Regrettably no naturist photos of that era.
This activity of communing with nature, led me to investigate witchcraft and read several of Denis Wheatley's novels. I became a practicing Luciferian which is the abiding faith I have today, although I did explore Protestant Christianity (Methodist/Congregational/Presbyterian Church of Scotland) and Islam, in my more mature years. I'm quite eclectic now seeing things of value in all faiths but with none having a monopoly on the truth. In my early teens, I was expected to attend the local Methodist Church at the top of Oak Road, Hale. However I found this to be boring and irrelevant, so I cycled instead to Manchester Airport (Ringway) about 4 miles away.
Our lodger at the time, treated me to a pleasure flight in an Auster Autocar (G-AGXN) operated by Harry Paterson. In those days it cost 5s.0d (25p) for around 15 minutes flying. I then proceeded to collect returnable deposit bottles from the outdoor cafe in the Visitor's Viewing Area and at 1d. each, soon collected another 5s.0d. which I used for another pleasure flight. Even at the tender age of 13, I was passionately interested in aviation and soon Harry was letting me take the controls under his close supervision and within a year I had covered the whole of the practical element of the Private Pilot Licence. I soon got a job with his rival, Bruce Martin, the director of Airviews (Manchester) Limited, who were aviation photographers. Initially the job was just cleaning his aircraft. He had a De Havilland Fox-Moth and a De Havilland Rapide. However, shortly afterwards, before I left school at the age of 14, I got work there in printing the picture postcards he produced. Thus I developed an interest in professional photography. I studied the craft under the guidance of Jimmy Bebbington who had a newsagents shop and photographic studio in nearby Altrincham. I learned to use his Rolleiflex TLR camera taking portrait and nude glamour shots in his studio and then doing exhibition prints 20" X 16" in size. After I started work I soon bought my own professional 35mm. camera, a Miranda Sensomat, at £130! I then got part time assignments as a news photographer and photo-journalist with the Manchester Evening News. This was mainly weekend work and usually involved chasing ambulances and fire engines to the scene of unfolding dramas. I also made a point of waiting at accident blackspots.
By day, I was doing an apprenticeship at the Record Electrical Co.,Atlantic Street, Broadheath, where my brother, Tommy, the father of my nephew Keith, was the foreman of the Coil Winding Department. I started there at the age of 14 having been "invited" to leave early because I was spending so little time there that the Headmaster, Percy Norrish felt there was no point in wasting my time and as caning wasn't working, I might as well do something I enjoyed.
At Junior School, I had been very advanced for my years. I could read the Daily Express fluently by the age of 3 and had mastered calculus and logarithms through personal study by the time I took my 11+ examination. I couldn't be bothered with childish things like playtime, plasticine, drama, etc. When I left Junior School to attend Sale Grammar School I lost all the advantage, starting again at the bottom and feeling very isolated. I always have been very much a lone wolf.
When I was 13, with my growing involvement in aviation and a desire to join the RAF after my apprenticeship, I joined the nearby Air Training Corps 318 (Sale & Altrincham) Squadron. My induction was on a Thursday evening and I learned that there were examinations being held two days later for those going up from First Class Cadet to Leading Cadet. I told the C.O., Flt. Lt. Vic Eves that I had been studying theory of flight, air traffic control etc. He showed me an old paper and agreed I would probably pass it with flying colours, which I did, so he put me down to take it on the Saturday and I therefore had to go back and start as a Probationer Cadet, taking 6 weeks to study RAF and ATC history, ranks and badges, who-when-how to salute, basic drill, First-Aid, etc. I was then tested on the syllabus and passed first time going on to wear my Leading Cadet badge straight away. I then started teaching First Class cadets on the technical aspects of flying and air navigation.
I started shooting on a .22 calibre Lee-Enfield rifle, getting my ATC marksman's badge, upgrading to an RAF Marksman badge a few weeks later on the .303 calibre Lee-Enfield bolt action rifle. I went on to represent the ATC at shooting and acted as a Range Safety Officer on shooting practice. I was also selected to represent the ATC at the "Teens and Twenties" exhibition at Manchester's Free Trade Hall. Whilst there, in uniform, I had about 30 descents from a training aid built by the Paras, called "The Fan". It involved climbing up to around 90ft. and being strapped into a harness. A gate opened and I swung clear of the platform. Once stable, a brake was released and I descended at the same rate as a parachutist, thus getting some early practice in PLF's (Parachute Landing Falls). It was in fact another 27 years before I made my first parachute jump, from an aircraft over Shobdon, a former RAF Balloon Squadron airfield.
When I started my apprenticeship, my father, George, was a draughtsman at the Linotype & Machinery Co. Ltd, also in Atlantic Street, Broadheath. They were manufacturers of printing presses. He died following a brain haemorrhage over the Christmas holiday just prior to my 15th. birthday. We were on holiday visiting my sister, Ann and her family, in Birmingham. He went into a coma and died on January 9th. 1960. He had suffered a heart attack about 16 months earlier. The summer before he died, he took me to see his birthplace in a cottage opposite the Old Kirk, Perceton, just outside Irvine, Ayrshire.
|
We also toured the Trossachs and Callander, where his father had been born, in McLaren Clan territory. I've always been fond of the kilt and the skirl of the pipes!
When I went on to join the RAF, the day after completing my apprenticeship and thus qualifying for my Trade Union card as a skilled man, my first choice of posting after Basic and Trade Training, was Kinloss, on the Moray Firth, 28 miles East of Inverness, just off the A96 road to Aberdeen. Whilst there I operated a fast-food takeaway, selling burgers and sandwiches, freshly prepared, up to 2330 hrs. daily using a single burner Camping-Gaz stove, providing a totally unlicensed competition to the N.A.A.F.I. at cut price and later operational hours. With the money I made from that I bought a 14ft. Fletcher speedboat and provided trips around the safe waters of Findhorn Bay at 5s.0d. (25p) per passenger for eight minutes. With the money I made from the speedboating enterprise, I bought a 2-berth caravan on the Findhorn Bay Caravan Park site and chose to live out rather than in my 3-man billet. I came back once a month for the regular bull-night and C.O's inspection. I've always had a fondness for Scotland and the Scots. I'm hoping before too long to get a kilt made in America where the full Highland Dress is just $305, payable over 6 months. Update: I bought my Highland Outfit in 2003 during a winter holiday around a week either side of St. Andrew's Day. I had a holiday based at Crianlarich but exploring each day, as far afield as Oban.
My full RAF career can be viewed on a separate Web Page, by clicking here.
About 6 months after my father's death we moved to a much bigger and posher house at No.7, Market Street, Altrincham. My mother had been invited to work as a caretaker at the offices of the Solicitors, Nicholls, Lindsell and Harris and the luxury flat was part of the deal. She had previously washed and ironed the white shirts of the bachelor solicitors and when they heard of my father's death offered us the flat and work for her. There was also a very nice garden at the rear.
I had a much larger bedroom there decorated with picture postcards from around the world. I enjoyed listening to short wave radio stations and submitting Reception Reports which meant the station sent me a QSL card and often a postcard, banner or gifts. I achieved 100 different countries within 1 month to qualify for an award certificate from the Radio Society of Great Britain (RSGB).
Whilst living in the new house I had the space to set up an altar and intensify my practice of Luciferian Wicca, much to my mother's annoyance, as she thought it was dangerous or nonsense and couldn't understand why I needed to get my kit off in order to worship my God. She said "You wouldn't do it in Church, so why is it OK here?". Anyway, before my mother passed on at the age of 78, in 1980, she accepted my naturist practices and even posed for me as a model.
We were as a family fond of dogs as pets, and my father worked at a local kennels ("Gorsecot") at weekends. When I was aged about 11, I started to help him clean the kennels and feed the dogs, then exercise them in Dunham Park on a Sunday. I had my own particular favourite alsatian pals. My choices were Rebel, Shani, Zak and Lassie. We brought Shani home one weekend as a treat and she soon realised a single bed was a lot more comfortable than the floor.
At the age of 14, I had an operation on my nose to straighten the central bone, called the septum. I came out of the operating theatre with an unsightly plaster cast over the nose. After I left hospital I was to return to the clinic after 8 weeks for a check-up when the cast would be removed. I couldn't be bothered with wearing it so I went out with Rebel and Shani one day, deciding to take it off before the walk. All went well until I picked up a large stick to throw for the dogs to fetch. Rebel (like me!) couldn't be patient and leapt up, to grab it, crashing his nose into mine! My nose promptly broke again and so after I had stopped it bleeding, I put the plaster cast back on and kept it that way for the remainder of the 8 weeks. Of course when I had it taken off at the follow-up clinic my nose was still bent. The poor man who did the surgery must have thought he was losing his touch as I didn't tell him about getting it broken by Rebel. So I had to go back into hospital a few months later to have a repeat operation (Sub-nasal refracture). This time I left the plaster cast in place for the full 8 weeks.
As a growing child we had lots of pets over the years. There was budgerigar called "Joey" and I soon found I was allergic to his feathers, causing severe asthma. Then I had a guinea-pig called Cheryl who was attacked and subsequently died following the attack by next door's cat. Then we started on the dogs. The first was "Laddie", a rather nice looking fox-terrier and collie cross. Then we had "Blackie" a rescue black labrador who died after 6 weeks following a heart attack. Then we had a spaniel called "Judy" who died after 3 months, from distemper. It was then that Dad decided to go for alsatians as company and I found it very rewarding and great fun, particularly training them on an obstacle course which they too thought was great fun.
Around the age of 13 I put my knowledge of aerofoils to good use and built a 12ft. wing in two sections. I cycled out through Halebarns, taking the scenic, country route to Ringway Airport. On the way the road dips down and back up again as it descends into a valley carrying a stream and then up the other side of the cutting. I waited until the traffic was quiet, at the top of the hill then fastened on my wing, each side. I then pedalled furiously downhill and after a short distance took off safely. However as in proper flying, the landing is trickier and more disaster-prone than the take-off. So it was with my bike. I succeeded in getting a positive angle of attack and climbed about 10ft. on what was to be a 100ft.flight. So far so good. I was able to perform gentle turns using the ailerons then I came in for the approach. I failed to round-out and so hit the road with my front wheel which promptly buckled and I fell off! Bicycle wheels are not chunky enough for use on aircraft. However those on a motor scooter like the Vespa definitely are ideal. In fact for paragliding self-launches these days, a double skateboard is an excellent undercarriage.
At Sale Grammar School, I used to wag it a lot because I so unhappy there. Initially after three days off, I was caned on my return, getting three strokes. I thought it was a worthwhile price, so planned ahead for future absences, the longest being six weeks. When my dad found out, he accompanied me to school the following day and watched whilst the headmaster gave me "6 of the best". Eventually the caning stopped and the headmaster tried a different strategy: Talking. He chatted about my future and the importance of education and what I hoped to do with my life. I just wanted to get into the world of work. He accepted that and wished me well. I told him I had already secured work at Manchester Airport so he agreed to my early departure. The work at the airport lasted until I started my apprenticeship.
I did get a bit mischievous at times as a teenager. One day, on my way out to the airport, I was on a very quiet country road and found a dead cat. I noticed it was stiff due to rigor-mortis. I realised I could get it to stand up again, as though it was alive, by positioning his paws accordingly. I then waited until the road was free of traffic and positioned him as though he was crossing the road. This meant that oncoming drivers were required to brake, toot their horns, then thinking the cat was deaf, get out of their cars and urge it across. They soon realised it was dead and put it back in the verge. Meanwhile I was lying flat on the opposite verge, highly amused. One driver spotted me and asked if I had done this and why I wasn't in school. I admitted my sin and told him I was desperately unhappy at school and on my way to the airport. So he kindly offered to drive me there and very much like the headmaster, chatted on the way about education, life, work, responsibilities etc. I thanked him for caring and told him I would give it some serious consideration. I think he could well have been a social worker or clergyman.
When I was at college I made friends with another student, David Wainwright who had a BSA Bantam 125cc., which I subsequently bought off him. I went on my Mobylette with him to a local copse, most weekends or on many summer evenings, to top up our all-over sun tan, in a clearing at the far end, bordering on fallow fields. There was no sexual innuendo, just plain, nude sunbathing and rambling through the mixed woodland, which we both had an interest in.
During my apprenticeship I did a lot of cross-country running each evening, usually around 8 miles. My friend, David Arrowsmith, now a taxi-driver, used to cycle with me, passing me Trebor Bitter Orange energy sweets every mile and also orange or apple juice to replenish lost fluid. Cross-country had been my main sport when I was at school but I was also good at throwing the javelin. Since moving to Gilbert Road, I bought two training javelins.
I was also keen on participation in more extreme sports, namely rock climbing and caving. I did my rock climbing in three locations, Laddow, Windgather (both in Derbyshire) and Idwal Slabs in Snowdonia. My caving activity was centered on Castleton, Derbyshire which is the location of several show caves as well as some excellent training caves. The show caves include Treak Cliff Cavern which is the best decorated cave in the area with wonderful displays of stalactites and stalagmites and huge untapped veins of Blue John stone (derived from the French: Bleu-Jaune meaning "Blue-Yellow"). Other show caves are the Blue John Mines, Peak Cavern and Speedwell Mine which is accessible only by boat.
I used to spend a lot of time out in the country as a child. Altrincham is within easy reach of the River Bollin, Dunham Park, and many other scenic areas of Cheshire. One weekend, I was walking along the high banks of the River Bollin when I was almost knocked off my feet by a galloping horse. I shouted angrily for the rider to take more care. She pulled up, walked slowly back and apologised. She then offered to teach me basic riding skills which I accepted, although in reality I thought it was her who needed educating in basic riding skills! She was camping out and took me back to her tent where our joint passions were aroused. (Beautiful short shorts and silky smooth legs, as were common in those days-and likewise with the girls!). I continued to see her most weekends and invited her home to my place for tea, one Sunday. However my mother was not impressed thinking I was far too young to be going out with a girl. So that was the end of a beautiful friendship. She is now a successful writer of books for children.
When I was 16, I developed an interest in motorbikes. I started off by buying a 50cc. Kerry Capitano Italian 2-gear moped. I then upgraded each time buying, in order:
In my later years, whilst living in the Bournemouth and Hordle areas, I went downsize again with a Honda-50 4-stroke and auto gear change which purred like a kitten and did 250 miles to the gallon. It was SO reliable, I could come back to Altrincham or a weekend away in North Wales, each weekend, and return on a gallon and a half of petrol. It cruised at 40 mph. EXCELLENT machine!
After leaving the RAF, I worked for 12 months in Ashton-Under-Lyne, Lancs., about 8 miles outside Manchester, as a Production Engineer for a company making cable looms. Whilst there I dropped half a Cwt. (56lbs/20Kg) of steel plate on my foot and broke 3 toes. I had a wedding photography assignment three days later at a Roman Catholic Church. So with my foot and lower leg in plaster and in great pain, I had to get another photographer to do the shoot, which is probably just as well because he did not have an aversion to RC premises like I seem to have.
One Sunday in early March 1970, I saw a job advertised for avionics technicians and navigator trainers in Saudi Arabia, exactly what I did in the RAF. So I applied and was offered the job at the interview, going out to Dhahran on April 1st.1970. This was to be the first of six contracts in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA). I treated it as an adventure and with no preconceived notions about Arabs or Islam. I soon got to love the place and like Laurence of Arabia, I bought a motorbike out there (a Suzuki-90). I loved the dry climate, the scenery, the people, the cultural and urban heritage, indeed everything about it. I did crash my motorbike taking a corner too fast and ending up on a gravel area getting a round of applause from other ex-pats out there on contract. I finished up in hospital and carry the scars on my elbow to this day, complete with several pieces of Saudi grit. Later in my stay I was back in the hospital being treated for dehydration. I had collapsed at work and woke up in the hospital with a drip in my arm which was replacing lost fluid. From then on, I made sure I had around 8 pints of fluid a day. The lack of alcohol over there has never been a problem for me. With having heart disease I tend to have a couple of pints of strong lager a day to help as a selective vasodilator, to keep my arteries open, particularly when I'm asleep at night. But I can take it or leave it.
Within a week of arrival in Saudi I had bought a set of comfortable Arab clothes. I wore them in the afternoon and evening, particularly in downtown Al-Khobar where I made several friends. I had one special friend though, a trainee called Salem Nasr. Arabs, like the French and Russians are a very tactile race and Salem was a typical Arab youth. I always got and was expected to give, a kiss on each cheek, whenever I met an Arab socially. It is as natural as shaking hands is in the U.K. Sadly no photos of Salem, just fond memories to remember him by! I was so sad when I left Saudi to come back to the UK in October 1970. I felt as though I was leaving home, not knowing if I would ever return. The military base at Dhahran is based on the North side of the International Airport. It is an incredibly beautiful airport with ornate architecture.
On my return to the U.K. I moved in with a white witch and her son, at their cottage in Hordle, Hampshire, in the New Forest area. Diane was the resident High Priestess of a local Gardenerian Witchcraft Coven. Like many Luciferians, she and her son were naturists and clothes were not permitted in her house or rear garden. A dressing-gown hung by the front door, to avoid alarming uninitiated visitors but with the door shut again, it was back to one's natural state.
Justin Diane's son, was fresh out of boarding school and feeling a bit bored. He craved adventure and started by moving out with me to a flat in Bournemouth where he got a job as a hotel waiter. We both worked in the hospitality sector at that time and spent 6 hours a day on the Studland naturist beach at Poole. We decided to go off on an adventure together, hitch-hiking round Europe and North Africa hoping to get round the Mediterranean before returning to the UK. In fact we got as far as Morocco but had an exciting four and a half months, all of which is recorded in my on-line travelogue "Adventure-Misadventure".
On my return from that first budget adventure, I moved to Birmingham, where I was cared for by my niece, Mal, in Acocks Green. I weighed just 7 stones (44.5 Kg) and looked like a walking advert for OXFAM! Within about a month I had been restored to health thanks to a lot of TLC and good food. My niece paid for a deposit of one month rent on a flat in Edgbaston, where I stayed from January 1972 until April 1st. 1991. I got a job as an electronic technician, doing permanent nights at Cadbury Schweppes, in Bournville. After my probationary period of familiarisation, on days, I went on to the 4 nights a week schedule. In fact I opted to do 5 nights a week for 3 weeks, followed by an early finish on the Friday morning of the 4th. week. I then got a taxi straight from work to Birmingham Airport and got an early flight to some exotic destination. These included Cairo, Hammamet, Bastia, Marrakech, Nice, Tenerife, and Barcelona. Once there I got accommodation for 3 nights/4 days, returning directly to work on the Monday night.
Unfortunately I became increasingly dependent upon Mogadon sleeping tablets which took 6 months to solve. I realised I was not suited to night work and commenced contract agency electronics which was fine for several years. I spent a year living in the Gossops Green area of Crawley working in turn for 3 different companies on Manor Royal Industrial Estate and lodging with a young family of which both boys were keen on aviation and adventure so I involved them in the Duke of Edinburgh's Award Scheme. The elder boy went on to join the A.T.C.
I then settled back in Birmingham as work became scarcer and in April 1991, moved to Smethwick. Whilst there I have, over the years, adopted three feral cats, one of which has survived and is now approaching 8 years old. Having been unemployed for many years I decided to apply myself to study and was admitted to a B.Sc. course in Sports Medicine at Wolverhampton University. The facilities were impoverished and so having qualified, I used that to get into Birmingham University Medical School, as an external Ph.D student, researching "Sudden Cardiac Death Syndrome in fit athletes under the age of 30". I completed that project within one year and was awarded an entry into "Who's-Who in the World of Medicine" for the year 2000 edition. I also got an entry in "Who's-Who in the World" 1998 for my adventure travel and survival skills training which I've provided for schools, colleges and clubs on request. I am registered with the "Expedition Advisory Centre" as an adventure traveller specialising in budget adventures (<£1.50p.per day).
Around 1998 I joined the volunteer staff at RAF Cosford Aerospace Museum, liaising with the public and providing security, safety and first-aid cover. However on Tuesday July 25th. 2000, on the day of the Concorde crash in Paris there was a very acrimonious committee meeting and I left feeling very angry and had chest pains for the 3rd. successive day. I had been severely sick for 12 hours on the previous Sunday and after signing on, on the Wednesday, 84 hours after the onset of symptoms, I phoned "NHS-Direct", describing the symptoms. I was immediately rushed into City Hospital, Birmingham, having had oxygen life-support at home. I had the full blown heart attack in the hospital. So I was in the right place for effective treatment. Indeed on the ward (Coronary Care Unit) about 1 hour later, I felt well enough to go home but in fact I had to wait for a week before I passed my exercise tolerance test (ETT). I discussed my status with a lady cardiologist including the ECG's and I had been closely monitoring developments as I was well aware of what was happening. I have had a total of 3 heart attacks since 1998 but only one hospitalisation. I'm on an array of drugs and cannot consider surgical intervention such as a by-pass or angioplasty, or even an angiogram because of the risk of inducing another, possibly fatal, heart attack.
Family Photo Album:
Dad at Work (Linotype Drawing Office)
With Dad, at Callander, Perthshire; Summer 1959
Keith on the roundabout at Stamford Park
Keith, Cath (his Mum) and Ian at Llandudno
Mal (my niece), Keith and Ian; Prestatyn (Midnant Farm Caravan Park)
A photo album of my caving exploits
