tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2009-11-10:/MokoFeed2009-11-10T00:40:16+01:00tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-09-05:/2005/09/05/what_a_friend_we_have_in_jesus~164031/TGR2932005-09-05T18:31:13+02:002005-09-07T17:35:04+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>Thomas G Richardson</p> <p>My daughter had been at primary school for only 3 days on Wednesday she came back in tears. When my wife and I asked her what was wrong she replied “Everyone has a friend but I haven’t any”</p> <p>For a while I ponder what I could do. At the time I was in my early twenties but already had a degree in psychology. I took her by the hand and told my wife and son to follow me to her bedroom. At the time my daughter was going to a strictly catholic school and in those days it was strict. Brain washing could take lessons from the Catholics.</p> <p>Once we reached the bedroom I knelt down and asked them to do likewise. I then closed my eyes and started to pray. It went along the following lines. Dear Jesus please make sure that Theresa gets a friend and always has friends from now on” I then solemnly got to my feet and declared “that’s it then I bet you get a friend soon Jesus always answers our prayers” behind my back my fingers were crossed. Jesus knew they were crossed so I wasn’t really a hypocrite.</p> <p>On Thursday night my daughter came skipping home and declared I have got a new friend her name is Carla Rossi. She was the daughter of one of the local ice cream magnets her family were millionaires when being a millionaire meant you had money if you know what I mean. Let’s face it today a millionaire is considered short of cash these days! We seem to talk in multi or better still billions.</p> <p>The strange thing (or should I say obvious thing) was that from then on my daughter had lots of friends and all were rich. When I was in the Army I was an other rank but all my daughters friends were officer’s daughters and sons. It did not matter where we went she always had top drawer friends. Although I do not believe in religion I do believe in God. I feel that God decided he had a purpose for Theresa and she need to have the right back ground with the appropriate contacts. For non believers this may seem like wishful thinking but let us look at some facts.</p> <p>Today my daughter is a Harley Street Consultant in ophthalmology. There have been several times when she has waived her fees for people she knew would go blind if not treated but she knew could not afford her fees privately.</p> <p>In one case a little old lady came to see her about cataracts. The lady was almost blind and decided she could not wait the months it was going to take on the NHS so she was going private. My daughter told her the cost would be £3000 and the lady hesitantly said she could just afford that. My daughter said to her “Listen I am running a survey on cataracts at the moment for a charity and I could put you in that if you wish. The lady asked how much that would cost and my daughter said not very much really no where near the usual cost.” She said a beam of a smile came on to her face that reminded her of her grand mother. The operation was performed a week later with a perfect result. The lady asked how much it would be and my daughter said give £50 to your favourite charity. The survey was of course bogus but my daughter had saved that old lady not only £3000 (which she had assessed were her life saving) but her pride and of course her eyesight. To that old lady her pride was probably worth more than the cash but she lost neither. She was of course not made wise to the fact that there was no survey.</p> <p>As Dave Allen used to say “May your God go with you”</p> <p>If Carla Rossi reads this please get in touch </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/09/05/what_a_friend_we_have_in_jesus~164031/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-18:/2005/07/18/explosions_1/TGR2932005-07-18T12:11:32+02:002005-07-18T12:11:32+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>TG Richardson</p> <p>“Charcoal, saltpetre, sulphur and that’s it.” I said.</p> <p>“Are you sure Gordon? That’s all there is to making gunpowder,” said Ginger Murray,</p> <p>“I got the formula from a book in the library.</p> <p>Poss. Johnson asked, “What sort of quantities do you use?”</p> <p>“I don’t know, I’m going to experiment.</p> <p>You will help won’t you?” I asked Jumbo E1liott.</p> <p>“I suppose so, Could be fun”, replied Jumbo.<br> In the chemistry lab Jumbo and I started our experiment. “Einstein” our chemistry master let us do our own thing as long as we were quiet. While I ground up some charcoal Jumbo went to find some sulphur and saltpetre, He returned with these ingredients and added them to the<br> charcoal, We guessed the quantities it looked gunpowder,</p> <p> I poured a small amount on to a piece of tin and lit it; There was a swoosh as it burnt rapidly, This was the real stuff without doubt, I poured the rest of the gunpowder into an envelope and put it in my pocket,</p> <p> At break I put some of the gunpowder into a metal tube, Standing on the ends I dented it in, “Who is going to hit it with something to see if it goes off?”</p> <p> “You must be joking,” said Ging, “There was something in the paper the other day about some kids blowing off their hands with fireworks, This might be much more powerful,”</p> <p>“Okay,” I said: drop something on it and we”ll all run before it goes off” “It’s metal. It could spray bits every where we could be blinded”, said Jumbo,</p> <p> “Shrapnel, that’s what you mean, My granddad told me about it, He got several bits in his head in the first world war, You three get behind that wall and I”11 do it, After all it’s my bomb, I invented it”</p> <p> As they hid behind the wall I suddenly felt worried, My granddad had said a lump of shrapnel could tear your head off, I picked up a large rock dropping it on the tube I dashed behind the wall, There was a deafening silence: Nothing had happened, I tried several times but nothing, In the end we gave up throwing the tube into the woods, Ah well back to the drawing board or should I say library for more formulae.</p> <p> Nitroglycerine was much easier to make all it took was nitric acid and glycerine . I had some nitric acid but couldn’t find any glycerine any where. </p> <p>“Excuse me sir I wonder if you can help me with my experiment,? I asked Einstein. “What exactly do you want?” “I can’t find any glycerine, It is in the cupboard,”</p> <p>He looked at me suspiciously,</p> <p>“The cupboards locked sir can I have the key please.?”</p> <p>What are you trying to make before I give you the key to the cupboard.”</p> <p>“Nitro-glycerine”, I said innocently.</p> <p> You could blow the whole school up! To mix nitro-glycerine you can’t just pour nitric acid onto glycerine. There would be an instant explosion, It has to be measured precisely and mixed very carefully indeed,” He went into a description of how to do this before stopping in mid stream as he realised what he was doing, “Get back to your bench boy and get on with something less dangerous. Much less dangerous”, he added, That was the end of our experiments in the realms of high explosives which is probably just as well; </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/18/explosions_1/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-13:/2005/07/13/wrestltng/TGR2932005-07-13T23:47:15+02:002006-02-02T13:48:29+01:00 <p>By </p> <p>TG Richardson</p> <p>"How would you like to go to the wrestling with me", asked my father,</p> <p>We left at seven-o clock that night, The wrestling was due to start at seven thirty. I had never been to see a wrestling match before and I was really looking forward to it.</p> <p> The ring had been set up in what was called the store back way; this was a piece of waste ground just behind the Co-op. The ring was out in the open and surrounded by loads of folding chairs,</p> <p> Dad paid for our seats and we joined the crowds to get a seat, Although 1 went several times after that I could never remember it raining on wrestling night. Perhaps God liked wrestling I thought.</p> <p> The wrestlers had marvellous names such as Mad Max, Bully Boy Johnson, The Ghoul, Killer Watts and all tried to live up to those names, On the night we went the main bout was between the Ghoul and Sunny boy Danson,</p> <p>'Watch the Ghoul Gordon, said my father, Look out for the rabbit punch'</p> <p>'What's the rabbit punch dad", I said,</p> <p> 'Hits them on the back of the neck with the side of his hand, Sometimes he hits them so hard he knocks their neck out of place. Then he hits them in the front to knock it back in'</p> <p> As the match proceeded each wrestler threw one another from one side of the ring to the other, The Ghoul was a large fearsome figure wearing a mask Even through the mask you seemed to be able to see a terrible grin as he smashed Sunny Boy into the ground. Without doubt the Ghoul was starting to get the upper hand. Several times he bounced Sunny Boy of the ropes, As he passed having bounced off the ropes the Ghoul delivered an awesome chop to the chest. Then it happened what everyone was waiting for.</p> <p> The Ghoul grabbed Sunny Boy by the wrist. Spun him round. Hurled him against the far set of ropes, This time as he bounced back the ghoul let him pass. Smash. The rabbit punch hit the back of his neck you almost felt the pain. There was an audible crack As Sunny boy started to crumple to the floor then he was hit again on the front of the throat. It was all over.</p> <p> It was marvellous. I loved it. Now I knew what I was gong to be when I grew up. It was a wrestler without doubt, I knew I would be able to do this. Every time dad took me to the wrestling I watched with great concentration taking in all the holds and the throws,</p> <p> Even though I enjoyed watching the Ghoul the wrestlers I liked the best was the lightweights. They moved with grace and speed. Holds were applied quickly and skilfully and it was quite artistic.</p> <p> One of the best lightweight wrestlers I watched was George Kidd. Not for him the fancy names he did need them. People came to watch the speed and skill with which he wrestled, He could get out of holds as if by magic would give his arm bent behind his back in a hammer lock to his opponent, The other wrestler could hardly resist this gift. But has he took the arm suddenly with great speed the hold would be broken and George would be in control. A great laugh would go up at this and other moves were played on a lumbering opponent. To me George Kidd was every thing I wanted to be an expert wrestler. I decided to style myself on him.</p> <p>At the weekend I went to my local library to see what I could find on wrestling, There was stuff on Cumberland wrestling but nothing on all in wrestling which was what I wanted.</p> <p> I came across some books on Ju Jitsu and Judo and these seemed to fit the bill exactly, They showed strange looking men dressed in weird kind of clothes but more importantly they showed and described the holds and throws of both sports,</p> <p> I took home a couple of books and studied them avidly, My poor brother Harry was Uki (This was the Japanese for opponent or partner) I practised the holds and locks on Harry trying to get them exactly as shown in the book,</p> <p>“Gordon its' hurting!” said Harry,</p> <p> “Good it's supposed to hurt', I said. “I'I1 not keep it on very long. I’ve got to practice if I'm going to become a wrestler'</p> <p>Harry was a good sport. How he put up with it all I'11 never know, Mind I always used to let him borrow my bike after each session so perhaps that was it.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/13/wrestltng/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-13:/2005/07/13/the_tournament/TGR2932005-07-13T23:36:58+02:002005-07-13T23:36:58+02:00 <p>By </p> <p>TG Richardson</p> <p> The tournament for the ACF boxing finals was to be held in the Gymnasium of the unit we were billeted at.</p> <p> That evening the gym buzzed with excitement, In the centre a boxing ring had been erected and his was surrounded by folding chairs which filled the rest of the hall, There was a feeling of expectancy in the air, George and I wandered out to have a look at the ring, neither of us had ever boxed before in the ring. What we called a proper boxing ring. It looked vary daunting to say the least,</p> <p>We joined the rest of the lads at about 7 p.m. for the weigh in, I felt extremely nervous, Several visits to the toilet were called for before my bladder seemed to settle down, All I had on was a pair of boxing shorts. I shivered as I stood in line to be weighed.</p> <p>'Okay lad jump on the scales’</p> <p>An official looking man was pointing at me, As I stood on the scales he noticed that my breasts were a little swollen, He pointed to them, and ‘Do they hurt at all'</p> <p> I blushed with embarrassment and shook my head, 'Nothing to worry about lad it happens to all young lads at your age'. A sense of relief swept over me. I had to admit this point or should I say points had been worrying me for some time I thought I was turning into a girl!</p> <p>“Seven stones and seven pounds, next'</p> <p> I jumped off the scales and hastily put on my vest to cover my chest as quickly as possible. Emblazoned on my short was the emblem of the Durham Light Infantry, which was a bugle, All the ACF team was proud of that emblem. We were fighting for the regiment or so it had been drilled into us. I was fighting for myself I thought and the thrill of being the County Durham Champion,</p> <p>One by one the boxers went out to the ring as the Tournament started, Some of the other boxers went out to watch the contests but George and I stayed in the dressing area, My bladder called again and off I trotted,</p> <p>'How many times is that’? Asked George. 'Talk about “taking the piss”. There can’t be any left to take.”</p> <p> Come on George your next followed by Gordon! Said Cess Ramsey, 'We seem to be doing okay all our lads are through the preliminary bouts to present, Let's hope it continues,'</p> <p>'I'11 come and watch you’, I said to George, 'Do your best mate'</p> <p>George did better than that. He came straight out at the bell hitting his opponent straight on the nose with a powerful straight left. The lad folded to the ground in obvious pain. There was a mandatory count of eight and the lad was back in the firing line. Three more of those lightening lefts in the face and there was blood everywhere. The referee jumped between them as George prepared to deliver another. It was all over. George had won on a technical knock out.</p> <p>As I climbed into the ring to take George’s place in the blue corner the roof seemed to lift with the noise. Cess Ramsey looked at me. I must have looked nervous. 'Don't worry son once you start you forget everything but hitting 'im. If you don' hit ‘im he sure as god wil1 hit you'.</p> <p> In the event I put up a reasonable show and at the end was judged to have done enough to go through to the finals. I could hardly wait to see George or one Punch Collins as he was now known. I had been on the end of that left punch of his many times and knew what punishment it could inflict.</p> <p>The finals were to be held the following night. Another day of waiting I thought as I trotted off to the bogs again.</p> <p>683 words 18 Nov 92 continue with finals and eventual presentation of medals,</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/13/the_tournament/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-13:/2005/07/13/boxing/TGR2932005-07-13T23:35:09+02:002005-07-13T23:35:09+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>TG Richardson</p> <p> I had beaten all my friends and any other lad I could coerce into wrestling me around the area where I lived. I was starting to grow bored of it all.</p> <p>With my friend George Collins I Joined a Youth Club at St Helens. It was held on part of the premises of a large clothing factory. Both George and I were thirteen years old at the time. George had taken up boxing and used to go through to the local boxing club at Shildon. He was he told me doing quite well and really enjoyed it. He had also joined the Army Cadet Force but this didn’t appeal to me. I did not fancy becoming a toy soldier. Strange really as in the end I completed 22 years in the army.</p> <p>In the meantime Cecil Ramsey one of the trainers at Shildon was going to start training lads on behalf of the ACF at the youth club. A backroom had been suitably equipped with punch bags, balls and other boxing equipment.</p> <p> George dragged me through to see it all. I watched him sparring with one of the other lads and he looked very good to my inexpert eyes.</p> <p> Cess Ramsey (who was known to everybody as Cess) asked me if I’d like a go, Okay I reluctantly agreed and put on a pair of gloves. He sparred quite gently with me and I started to get the hang of it. Cess reckoned I was a natural and had talent. This geed me up no end.</p> <p> It wasn’t long before I was persuaded much against my better judgement and on the understanding that I wouldn’t have to do any of that marching business that I joined the ACF and graduated to the boxing team.</p> <p> Within six months I was fancying myself as a professional. Another Joe Louis I thought. George I had to admit was much better than I was but I reasoned he was taller and half a stone heavier, The truth was he was stronger, a heavier puncher and overall a much better boxer. But I was a trier. No one was too</p> <p> My stock at my local grammar school King James the First rose higher and higher. For the first time my reports by the PE teacher were excellent. I was teaching other kids how to box at school and belting anyone I found bullying younger members of the school.</p> <p> Cess had entered us in the army-boxing tournament, which would if we reached the final be on the telly. What an incentive.</p> <p> For the Durham Championship we travelled to somewhere in Scotland. We were put up in an army barracks where the tournament was to be held George and I went exploring and we opened one hut door to the sound of "Attention. Stand by your beds". There was an embarrassed silence as our two small figures poked our heads around the door. Beds were lined up down either side of the hut and men were standing to attention waiting to be inspected.</p> <p>'Come on in lads,' said one of the men.</p> <p> We walked into the room viewing the kit on the bed in amazement. Everything gleamed and every article on each bed was line up with the one in the next bed and so on right down each side of the room. Laces were coiled like pieces of liquorice bootlace that we used to buy for a penny in the corner shop. Mess tins sparkled as if chromed. Boots with toes gleaming lay side by side. Blancoed webbing with gleaming brasses lay at the foot of the bed. It looked magnificent. The men must have spent hours cleaning and polishing to get to this standard. How many hours I was to learn when I too became a soldier and had similar inspections.</p> <p> The men in the hut chatted with us for some time and then said we had better be off as an officer would be around any moment to complete the inspection.</p> <p>(765 words 2pm 17 Nov 92 continue with description of tournament and results of fights and medals awarded)</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/13/boxing/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-13:/2005/07/13/rock_and_roll_1/TGR2932005-07-13T23:30:22+02:002005-07-13T23:30:22+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>TG Richardson</p> <p>ROCK AND ROLL</p> <p> It was 1954. The start of rock n' roll. Our hero was Bill Haley with his group the Comets, It was still such an innocent and simple time to be alive, The big in thing to be doing at the time was drinking coffee in the local coffee bar and playing the juke box.</p> <p> Cinema of course was big and we were all waiting for the film that was to bring a revolution in teen age music "Rock Around The Clock". George, Tommy and I had already planned what we were going to do when the film came, We were going to rock n roll in the aisles just as they were doing in London and throughout the country and every where the film played. We had this planned months before the film arrived even though none of us could dance a bean.</p> <p> There were four cinemas in Bishop Auckland namely The Kings Hall, The Hippodrome, The Eden Theatre, named after the Eden family arr~ Is~t arrj most impressive The Odeon, ~e~b were ~ons~d~~a~ flea pit but the Odeon or ~; ~n working class kids thought,</p> <p>Rock Around The Clock was due to be shown in Bishop Auckland at the Kings Hall. in U ie s ~mne ~ of ~~. Advance p~slirity ~~~r~ the i%l~ ~~i ~~e ri~~s it ~~; causing throughout the UK aSounded, We had aL1 seen newsreels every week in the cinema showing fans of rock and roll ~~~~hing wp I~~~na se~~~! dan~~ny ~n the aisles of cinemas and rioting in general</p> <p> It was our music, Teen age music, No one else could understand</p> <p>It.<br> and CRose in authority, A~J ,, loved it; For once we had something that was ours, ~~ne~7j~g n~ o~~ could Ca~e ~way~ I~ was a time to be ~~~?g; Ahov~ a%~ tine fa; ~oc~ a~~ roll. It w~s a ~e~jlution, Th~~~ w~s ~i~~ing li~e it a~J prohaSly will ~eve~ be anything ]i~e ,t ~~ain~ Jus~ ~rjtlng a~~~t it b:in~s b~ik my ~c~~, a~~ ti~~ tai;~~ d~~ce In ~y he~d; "~ee ~~~ Later All?~at~r"?" ~,~~ with ~~e C~~e Man", "Lung How could an adult see the ~aglc in t~tL es ; ~as q:~~j,,,, r~je I~~~us, ~t ~~seale~ deq~ p~r~ilive urgrs, Urges we never knew we had uneil the media told us we had them,</p> <p>"It's not coming to Bishop after all', said</p> <p>"Kubbishl" I said 'It's just got to come here,</p> <p>They can't stop it, Now now'</p> <p>The three mucky steers George, Tommy and myself were sat in Sam Zaire's coffee bar.<br> Three cups of coffee slowly going cold. The jukebox was playing "The Great Pretender":</p> <p>"Well that's what me dad said was in the paper," 'Apparently the council are going to ban the film because of the trouble caused in other towns."</p> <p> Silently we drank our coffee, our world was crashing to the ground. Even my new blue suede shoe didn't seem so glamorous,</p> <p>"Oh yes I'm The Great Pretender,<br> Alone in a world of my own,<br> I seem to be but I'm not you see",<br> played the Juke Box,</p> <p>Fortunately the newspapers were wrong. More hype I suppose just to build us up even further. That summer "Rock Around the Clock arrived to our great excitement.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/13/rock_and_roll_1/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-13:/2005/07/13/bell_aamp_ridley_1/TGR2932005-07-13T23:22:46+02:002005-07-13T23:22:46+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>TG Richardson</p> <p>I had been working for about 6 months when George told me he was leaving his job at Bell & Ridleys and moving to a private decorator to work.</p> <p> "I can get you my job if you want it. It will be better than working in a factory and at least you will have a trade at the end of it”.</p> <p>I agreed anything seemed better than working in a factory. Life in a factory was pure drudgery. I handed in my cards and the following Monday I reported to the building site to start work as an apprentice painter. It was as simple as that. But then life was simple and straightforward in those far off days.</p> <p> It was the summer of 1955 and the weather was great. The building site was on Woodhouse Close Estate. As I lived on the estate it suited me down to the ground. On Monday morning I found the site office and was told to report to the painter charge -hand Geordie Herd.</p> <p>I found Geordie in one of the houses being built sitting on a distemper drum rolling a cigarette.</p> <p>“Take a seat lad,” he said indicating a nearby drum. “Do you smoke”? I shook my head.</p> <p> “So your George Collin’s mate. Been working in a factory. You’ll find it a lot different here. Couldn’t work in a factory myself. Too closed in. Always been used to being outside a lot. Used to be in the Merchant Navy during the war, fresh sea air on yer face” He paused to take a drag on the roll up, “Can’t beat the Navy.”</p> <p>He handed me a brush and a pot of pink paint. This he explained was primer. “All woodwork is primed before it gets its final coats. The first job of an apprentice is to learn to prime. Start on that door over there”.</p> <p> A little apprehensive I started to slap primer on the door laying it off as he had told me. I seemed to be leaving a fair few bare patches.</p> <p> “You’re rubbing more off than yer putting on. Put more on yer brush and don’t be scared of it. He gave me a demonstration, “Right I'll leave you to it for an hour or so”. Prime all the doors in this house that need it. You’ll soon get the hang of it.” He was right I started to pick it up quite easily and found it very relaxing. I finished one door and passed on to another, I had a sense of freedom my own boss as it were left to get on with it. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/13/bell_aamp_ridley_1/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-07-13:/2005/07/13/east_meets_west_1/TGR2932005-07-13T23:11:41+02:002005-07-13T23:11:41+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>TG Richardson </p> <p>I married my Chinese wife Anna on the beautiful island of Penang, Malaysia on the 19th January 1960. She had been brought up by her auntie and uncle having been orphaned during the war. Our first date was on a Sunday morning at Mass in church. This was so I could convince her that I was in fact a devout catholic (God must have been shaking his head at the time). Outside the church I was looked over by a group of her relations, aunts, uncles, cousins. I seem to pass muster as I was invited to the Chinese New Year celebrations. </p> <p>Chinese New-Year celebrations are held over a four day period during which there is lots of drinking, eating and gambling. The Chinese are not noted for their drinking but make up for it in the eating and gambling sections. They are a very polite race and do all they can to make any guest welcome including Kwai Loh (white devils or white ghosts). Anna’s uncle had asked her what I liked to drink and she had replied that I liked a glass of gin. A glass of gin is what I got! A full half-pint glass full of gin!</p> <p>In some respects the Chinese and North Easterners have similar natures. Both cultures hate to lose face. I had just turned nineteen and considered myself a bit of a drinker so felt I could hardly point out that you don't normally drink gin in half pints. Her uncle who spoke no English handed me the glass with a smile. I took it and started to sip it. Looking around I spotted a large bottle of lemonade and kept topping up the gin to try and thin it down. The point is with alcohol however much you thin it down if you drink the lot it still has the same effect. I slowly got drunker and drunker. I needed to use the toilet and was shown a door. I opened the door and stepped into a small room. To one side was a gutter and in the centre a large tiled square sunk into the ground. It was filled with water and I proceeded to urinate into it. It looked to me in my drunken state like a posh kind of toilet. During the evening I paid several more visits to this magnificent toilet. After about my third or fourth visit Anna whispered, "When you go to the toilet where are you doing it?" "In that square thing in the middle of the room". ' Oh my god! That’s the bath' she said. '1'11 have to tell my uncle as it will have to be emptied and cleaned before they can use it'.</p> <p>She whispered in her uncle's ear and a broad grin spread across his face. The word spread around and there was giggling and polite smiles. Fortunately everyone thought this was an hilarious joke. As I said to Anna "I wonder if they would have thought it so funny if I wanted to do something other than urinate?"</p> <p> I know that I have gone down in their families race memory as the foreigner who pee'd in the bath because thirty years later we had a visit from one of Anna's many cousins. We were laughing about the various mistakes you can make in a foreign country and leaning across he said, 'We still laugh about the time you used the bath as a toilet'. </p> <p>I admitted that so do Anna and I. Recently in 1998 we returned to Penang for a holiday and I went to the same house. I was casually looking around for this small room which had been on the ground floor when I saw her cousin smiling. "I know what you are looking for", he said. "It’s the toilet but it no longer exists we had it removed a few years ago and everyone burst out laughing!<br> <a href="http://data1.blog.de/blog/t/thomasrichardson/img/Anna-age-19.jpg" title=""><img src="http://data1.blog.de/blog/t/thomasrichardson/img/Anna-age-19_small.jpg" border="0" alt=""></a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/07/13/east_meets_west_1/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-21:/2005/06/21/bully/TGR2932005-06-21T19:09:48+02:002005-06-22T19:56:10+02:00 <p>By</p> <p>Thomas G Richardson</p> <p>'Granda, said Gordon, ‘I’m being bullied at school'</p> <p>His grandfather smiled down at him, 'Well Gordon you’ll have to learn to take care of yourself. If someone hits you, hit back'</p> <p>'But Granda he's much bigger than me and he has a gang'</p> <p> 'He might be bigger than you but no bully likes his or her victim to fight back. And that is what you must do. If you punch him a couple of times even if he beats you I'll guarantee he will leave you alone after that and pick on someone else.</p> <p>I digested this piece of information. Grandfather was always right,</p> <p>The next time Billy Ratline picked on me he would get a shock. I glanced up at my grandfather’s towering figure.</p> <p>When I'm as big as you are nobody will pick on me I’11 bet'.</p> <p>Granddad bent down took me by the arms and swung me high up onto his shoulders, we strolled on through Blue Bell wood His cloth cap perched on his head and a trickle of smoke tickling my nose from his pipe, and I felt very secure, warm and loved. What I hadn’t realised was that my Grandfather’s words would change my life and those of others including my son’s.</p> <p>On Sunday morning I used to go to church on the school bus. Billy was also on that bus little did he know what a shock awaited him. The worm was about to turn with a vengeance. It was on the way back that Billy always used to pick on me. The bus arrived at the bottom of McCullough Gardens and we all got off. Through the journey he had told me how he was going to kick the living daylights out of me. As soon as I got off the bus he ran at me. My fist shot out and hit his nose more by luck that judgement but the blood was real and he was in shock. I immediately jumped on him and bore him to the ground. I sat on his chest and began to beat his face to a pulp. If a grown had not pulled me off I do believe I would not be writing this story because I think I would have killed him.</p> <p>I read now of children using guns in some countries (America, Japan and others) to mow down children and teachers alike. I wonder whether those children who did this had been bullied till they could stand it no longer and used what means they had to destroy their oppressors. I know that at various times in my life when I was bullied I certainly felt like killing people but fortunately had no recourse to the weapons that children use today. All I can say is this “If you bully someone and the worm turns you could end up dead”</p> <p>The person who is bullied often has defects. They maybe disabled, have a different colour skin, a different religion in other words they appear odd to some people. In my own case I was of small stature, had thick lips (today these would be a bonus! People pay to have their lips made thicker how times change) but at that time I was called all sorts of names which I will leave to your imagination as it hurts me even now to think of it. I also need glasses which were two round pieces of glass which a plastic frame which look awful (again there came a time when they were in vogue when John Lennon wore them ( I suspect he was also bullied when young). On top of that I had a bald patch at the front of my head where no hair grew. I use to plaster my hair over this patch with brylcream but when the other kids found out about the bald patch that was another reason to bully the odd looking kid.</p> <p>I passed the eleven plus examination to go to grammar school in 1952. I was the first and last of my family to do so. And how I wished I hadn’t passed. The bullying started again but this time as well as being odd looking I came from a council estate and was working class. If you are a masochist and wish to be bully try the middle class or upper class they know how to do it with panache they are born to it, it seems to be inbred. Again I turned to my grandfather for advice. He said it was time I took up boxing. I ponder on this and I knew that my best friend George Collins did boxing with the Army Cadets. He said that I would have to join the cadets first but that once I started boxing I wouldn’t have to worry about the army side of it as I would be left alone.</p> <p>I started to learn to box and had a natural aptitude for it. I progressed rapidly and so did my confidence. We were entered into various contests and I started to win. Soon my school friends knew about it and the word spread. Eventually I won the Durham County championship then on to win the North of England championship. I still have the medals but the main thing was the bullying stopped. Then I lost in the final of all England championship the blows seemed to come from no where. It was my eyesight. My trainer (Cess Ramsey from Shildon Boxing Club) asked me to watch his fist as he brought it towards my face. At a certain point I couldn’t see it and he said my eye sight was not good enough to continue boxing. To say I was disappointed was putting it mildly.</p> <p>(1207 words 13 Nov 92<br> further addition 21 June 2005<br> to be continued</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/21/bully/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-16:/2005/06/16/life_stories_introduction/TGR2932005-06-16T21:45:53+02:002005-06-16T21:52:04+02:00 <p> The enclosed stories are taken from my own life as suggested by a book called "Writing Your Own Life Stories'. The idea behind the stories is to give your children and future generations some idea of what parents or grandparents got up to in their lives. Many children often wonder what their parents were like when they were young and what they did. Hopefully these short articles which in some cases will not he complete may give them some idea and hopefully be of interest. At a later date perhaps future generations will like to add some stories of their own lives and so on down the generations.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/16/life_stories_introduction/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-15:/2005/06/15/w1nter_of_47/TGR2932005-06-15T22:52:41+02:002005-06-16T21:52:54+02:00 <p>It snowed and snowed and better snowed. The winter of 47 proved to be one of the worst in living memory or as the weatherman always put it since records had been kept.</p> <p> It was 2 o' clock on a Monday afternoon and we had all been sent home from school. It had been concluded it was too cold in the classrooms for work to be done.</p> <p> Can I go out and play in the snow Nana'. I asked eagerly. This snow was the best thing that had ever happened I thought.</p> <p>'Just make sure you yet well wrapped up'</p> <p> Suitably dressed in a thick coat! Wellingtons. Balaclava and a long scarf wrapped around my neck like a snake I ventured out: I was the great explorer. Scott of the Ant Arctic. Arctic seemed a funny name for an aunt.</p> <p> I stepped outside the back door with some difficulty. The snow was almost up to the top of my wellingtons even though Granda had cleared the path that morning. It was so deep and exciting. Looking down the garden everything was on one level. The snow completely unbroken except for the criss cross pattern of birds footsteps on the very surface. The hedge at the bottom of the garden had completely disappeared beneath the snow. must be six foot deep I thought Gordon of the Ant Arctic will have to venture forth to perform great deeds.</p> <p> I walked out into the street outside looking up towards the building site at the top of the road. They were building prefabs one of which we hoped to get. The building site was completely deserted the men like my grandfather who was a labourer had probably been laid off because of the weather. Across the top of McCullagh Gardens there was a fence but I knew a secret way through.</p> <p> I lifted one of the two slats in the fence which we had loosened and then wedged in place. Stepping through I was now in the real arctic. The snow seemed to go on and on mile after mile. Here and there bricks broke through the surface where they had been left in piles by the brickies. It was dangerous because my grandfather had said they were still digging the foundations and there were trenches and pits every where. Scott of the ant arctic would have never turned back and neither did I.</p> <p> I plodged on through the snow lost in a world of my own. I spotted several polar bears but ignored them. They lay without moving and offered no danger. I picked up a piece of broken wood sticking out of the snow and shot one. It still didn't move.</p> <p>On and on I went. The snow got deeper and I got wet and very cold. On I went. This was a great adventure. 1 was alone against the wilderness. Surrounded by nothing but whiteness. I knew from the films I had seen how easy it was to get snow blindness. I pulled my scarf up around my face just leaving a small hole through which to see. It was starting to snow again. Slowly at first but the flakes seemed to get larger and larger. Soon the wind was blowing it into a blizzard.</p> <p> I had left the fence far behind me now and everywhere seemed to look the same. I had a terrible sense of direction. which I had inherited from my mum. I was at this point worried but just pushed on through snow and blizzard. Somewhere I would have to plant a flag to record my bravery and claim this land for my King and Country. It was always done like that in the movies.</p> <p> Suddenly I fell into a crevasse. The snow momentarily closed over my head. I fought to get out but slid deeper into the snow. I lay very still. My heart was beating very fast. I felt a little frightened. Perhaps I was going to die. Mentally I composed diary events. When they found my body there would be nothing but my gun lying by my side. I was very cold now. My feet and hands were like blocks of ice. But some how inside I felt warm and cosy. I mustn't fall asleep that’s how they all die. Got to keep awake I though got to keep awake. God it was cold.</p> <p> I must have been asleep for sometime, as it was very dark. I heard voices coming towards me. It must be a rescue party I thought. Hope they bring chocolate and hot tomato soup. I struggled valiantly to get to my feet. Mustn’t let the side down. 'There he is'. a voice cried. It was my Granda. Quickly I was plucked from the deep crevasse saved from the frozen wastes. Soon we were back in civilisation and my grandmother was fussing over me. She put my hands under the hot water tap bringing back the circulation with the hot water. A large steaming plate of hot soup was pushed in front of me. I gulped it down like a true hero. 'I told you that place was dangerous Gordon.' said my grandfather. ‘You could have broken your leg or worse still froze to death if we hadn't found you'.</p> <p> 'Leave the bairn alone.' Said my Nana. 'He's all right now. The poor bairn’s half frozen to death. let him get his soup down 'im. You won't go up there again Gordon will you?” She sounded so anxious. I loved my Nana and Granda very much. I shook my head vigorously between mouthfuls. Perhaps another day.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/15/w1nter_of_47/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-15:/2005/06/15/rock_around_the_clock/TGR2932005-06-15T22:37:31+02:002005-06-16T21:53:39+02:00 <p> It had arrived. We were ready; the excitement had been building up for weeks. Tonight Rock Around The Clock was showing at the Kings Hall.</p> <p> George, Tommy and I were already in the queue for the picture at 6.30 even though the doors didn’t open until 7. It was just as well the queue stretched half way down Newgate Street.</p> <p>We were dressed in all our finery. I had on a fingertip jacket, brown edged with dark blue velvet collar and cuffs immaculate white shirt. Slim Jim tie with a Windsor knot and 14” bottom drainpipe trousers. Tommy and George were similarly attired but George as usual had stolen the show with his tie. It was a boot lace tie secured with a diamante clip at the throat similar to the ones the high rolling gamblers used to wear in the cowboy films. I must admit to being envious of that tie.<br> We were constantly combing our brylcreemed hair. We had the standard Tony Curtis combed back into a DA (ducks arse) at the back. I combed my hair constantly till at one point George said: Gordon I’m sure that comb’s glued to your hand. Every time your hand comes out of your pockets there’s a comb on the end of it! We all laughed and self-consciously I put the comb back for all of five minutes.<br> Someone in the queue started to play a guitar and there was several bouts of supposed to be rock and roll. The camaraderie within the queue was amazing. We were a11 here to have a good time and hear the music.<br> Inside the cinema there seemed to be a lot more ushers than usual and all male. Waiting for the trouble,’ commented George. I have never again experienced such excitement when watching a film the cinema was electrified. Bill Haley played Rock, Rock, Rock Everybody. Before I knew where we were Tommy and I were up bopping in the aisle. Other kids joined in and it was a near riot. Torches were flashing, ushers shouting, kids screaming encouragement. It was pandemonium. It was glorious. Wonderful, it was FAB. Suddenly the film whirred to a stop and the lights came up. The manager warned that any further disturbance and the film would be stopped permanently and we would have to leave. Silence followed and the film was re-started.<br> The Platters sang “Only You”, At the point where the lead singer’s voice breaks “0’0 Only You” all the girls screamed and swooned. I felt a churning feeling in my stomach. This was my kind of music. Years after when watching the film in repeats it appears tame in comparison with the modern day films but it still evokes memories of lost innocence, youth, excitement and friendships made to the death. I suppose most teen-agers go through these periods in their lives but I feel we were particularly lucky. They say the sixties was the time to be alive but believe me it started in 1954 and Rock Around the Clock was the film that lit the touch paper.<br> (539 words) 28 Nov 92</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/15/rock_around_the_clock/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-14:/2005/06/14/bell_aamp_ridley/TGR2932005-06-14T16:56:35+02:002005-06-16T21:57:28+02:00 <p>I had been working for about 6 months when George told me he was leaving his job at Bell and Ridleys and moving to a private decorator to work.</p> <p> "I can get you my job if you want it. It will be better than working in a factory and at least you will have a trade at the end of it”.</p> <p>I agreed anything seemed better than working in a factory. Life in a factory was pure drudgery. I handed in my cards and the following Monday I reported to the building site to start work as an apprentice painter. It was as simple as that. But then life was simple and straightforward in those far off days.</p> <p> It was the summer of 1955 and the weather was great. The building site was on Woodhouse Close Estate. As I lived on the estate it suited me down to the ground. On Monday morning I found the site office and was told to report to the painter charge -hand Geordie Herd.</p> <p>I found Geordie in one of the houses being built sitting on a distemper drum rolling a cigarette.</p> <p>“Take a seat lad,” he said indicating a nearby drum. “Do you smoke”? I shook my head.</p> <p> “So your George Collin’s mate. Been working in a factory. You’ll find it a lot different here. Couldn’t work in a factory myself. Too closed in. Always been used to being outside a lot. Used to be in the Merchant Navy during the war, fresh sea air on yer face” He paused to take a drag on the roll up, “Can’t beat the Navy.”</p> <p>He handed me a brush and a pot of pink paint. This he explained was primer. “All woodwork is primed before it gets its final coats. The first job of an apprentice is to learn to prime. Start on that door over there”.</p> <p> A little apprehensive I started to slap primer on the door laying it off as he had told me. I seemed to be leaving a fair few bare patches.</p> <p> “You’re rubbing more off than yer putting on. Put more on yer brush and don’t be scared of it. He gave me a demonstration, “Right I'll leave you to it for an hour or so”. Prime all the doors in this house that need it. You’ll soon get the hang of it.” He was right I started to pick it up quite easily and found it very relaxing. I finished one door and passed on to another, I had a sense of freedom my own boss as it were left to get on with it. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/14/bell_aamp_ridley/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-14:/2005/06/14/best_of_friends/TGR2932005-06-14T16:52:28+02:002005-06-16T21:58:27+02:00 <p> We were friends George and I. No we were more than friends. We were best friends. You know the type of friends that die for each other or so we thought.</p> <p> We went every where together. Occasionally of course we fell out generally over some thing stupid, but we always made up. I would send my brother around to see George and tell him I wanted to be friends sometimes it worked the other way George sent his brother Terry to do likewise.</p> <p> Becoming friends again was a solemn ritual. We said sorry for anything we had done, shook hands like the cowboys in the pictures and we were friends again. I have only once in my life had that same experience of true friendship with another person but that’s another story.</p> <p> I cannot remember whether it was George or I who thought of the idea of the Black Mask Gang. But it was a great idea. We hastily made masks out of some old black material and donned them. We looked like something out of an old bat man comic but it was great fun.</p> <p> Now we had our gang if two boys can be called a gang. We had to have missions and of course secret signs and codes. It was a whole New World. Our first mission was to steal some apples from my uncle’s Orchard. It wasn’t really an orchard just a large garden with a couple of apple trees and other shrubs but to us it was an orchard.</p> <p> My Uncle Dennis had a farm in Bishop Auckland and there was a river running through it. We crossed the river making for the back entrance to the garden, which was surrounded by a large fence. The gate to the garden had a chain on it with a peculiar kind of fastening. This fastening baffled us at first but nothing stopped the Black Mask Gang for long. We fiddled with the chain until it dropped off. Quickly we opened the gate and sneaked into the garden.</p> <p>We had taken several apples when suddenly we heard voice shouting.</p> <p>"Hey you! What are you doing? Wait till I catch you.”</p> <p>We dashed out the gate, ran knee deep across the river and away. The black Mask Gang free again.</p> <p> That evening we had a lot of explaining to do to our mothers. Our shoes were covered in mud, both shoes and socks soaking!<br> 477 word typed on 9 Nov 92)<br> 1</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/14/best_of_friends/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk,2005-06-14:/2005/06/14/my_life_stories/TGR2932005-06-14T13:11:05+02:002005-06-14T13:11:05+02:00<p> <small> <a href="http://thomasrichardson.blog.co.uk/2005/06/14/my_life_stories/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>