I said goodbye to my innocence, my Father and1964. "She wore my Brooch", (hairdresser, no rings allowed you see.), I said hello to the Brooch, the B.S.A. 250cc and goodbye to the girl all around the time of my 17th birthday. Gone were Scooter days, "it was a mans world" at Ernest Ireland Construction. "Take your pick" was back on again, and so were the pickled eggs from Wells City, (Girl infested factory next to water pumping station where I was shovelling for England). Took up smoking "roll ups" at this time, (hut full of blokes), took up luncheon meat and marmalade sandwiches as well.(ditto). I was on good money and lonely nights, but at least I had the bike for company. "La Paloma" coffee bar in Bartlett Street Bath was where the bikers hung out, I was soon pillioning females and burning (well, getting it warm) rubber. Met Tony Eccles & Chris Hanscombe one lunchtime on route to their work (Stothert & Pitt) on said machine. Mathematically the odds were against me, and the new fast was getting too good to last.
Glasshouse Café .. who`d think I`d be there so early in the morning, past St. Martins Hospital as usual. It was over in a flash of white followed by black. Turning over in mid air I could see the bike careering off the bonnet of the white Vauxhall Viva at a 45 (or was it 46?) degrees tangent. It struck me that it was very quiet for 7.00 a.m. I hit my knee, head, shoulder, and what remained of my right leg (minus wellie) on the tarmac. The guy from Hull, (hell) had thought Bradford Road was the main road, despite the stop sign and white lines. It didn`t hurt when the lorry driver pulled my leg straight, when the woman in the house on the corner threw out the blanket `cos she thought I was deceased. But it did hurt like hell when the ambulance man inserted the saline drip on route to the R.U.H. I couldn`t "phone a friend" now, and I had used up my "50-50"s worth of blood on the road..(4 pints gone, and not too much left in the pipes)
Yes, right outside St. Martins and they took me to the R.U.H.!. Good job too, time for a sleep.
I woke up two days later, in bed, in plaster, in Helena Ward and in pain. There I stayed for a few more days, then off to Forbes Frazer Isolation Hospital, (no, not B.O. but Gangrene.). My leg now resembled barbecue beef on its own screw laden steel skewer. Bone graft, skin graft, what a load of hard graft!. Crutches are us and three moths later I`m off home (for a while) off to my blonde Stephanie Hendy who had written every day to me in hospital. ( …. don`t ask!).
Back again! .. Hey Ho!, this time Bath & Wessex Orthopaedic Hospital, green nurses, white Swedish physio, very tasty too. All right for you guys, I couldn`t choose my women!. Another three months of joy, more "keel" bone and skin grafts, little ones this time called "pinch". Hell they don`t feel like a pinch, more a punch. My early grafts were slices . back to Helana Ward, the cider and nurse Robinson in blue and white. Colours I was used to!. I was plastered again!
Trying to play the Drums right handed with a left hand layout, (bass drum left foot) is not easy. I had company when at home from Mick Ringham, Glen Hillier, Jeff Borlase, Terry Larcombe.
All members of the Ghoul, our band who`s debut was to be my sisters wedding reception at the Co-op Hall. (can`t get away from this institution!). Our "performance" suffered power failure due to a person who had suffered enough and had pulled the plug. The "Spectres" came to the rescue, real musicians at last. I became a resident at Harmony Hall and Milsoms during the day and was the bane of the late Dave Southall. There I repaired Beyer M260 ribbon microphones, popular, but fragile if dropped. 0.1mfd 400v caps had the same foil as used in the Beyer, a nail file to shape the ribbon ribs, Araldite, re-clamp foil in magnets gap, tension up ..job done.!
Skill set was getting bigger, list of friends getting smaller due to injuries. People are like that.
Still got the music though, and the radio. "Armchair Theatre" on the telly too.
Oh what joy!.
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