Anecdote – Another murderer in the same Deli.

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Another murderer in the same Deli

The other dishwasher was a full-blooded American Indian who went by the name Little Wolf. We got quite friendly and he’d come back to crash at our place sometimes.
Little Wolf was only eighteen but he had quite a tale.
He and his girlfriend, best friend and his girlfriend had sold everything to buy a camper van. They set off to discover the heart of American and see if they could find themselves. It was very sixties.
They travelled across from the West Coast doing casual work to buy food and petrol. Arriving in Chicago they stopped off at a liquor store. Little Wolf’s girlfriend was the only one who was twenty one so she went in with her ID to purchase a couple of bottles of wine.
On the way out a guy was standing in the entrance and grabbed hold of her. There was a struggle, the bottles got dropped and smashed. Little Wolf jumped out of the van to sort it out and the guy pulled a knife on him
Little Wolf pulled out his gun and shot him three times in the stomach.
They jumped back in the van and hit the road.
A few days later they arrived in Boston. They were going down Massachusetts Avenue when a big Pontiac jumped the lights and slammed into the side of them at great speed.
Little Wolf regained consciousness in a hospital ward with a police officer standing guard over him. They had discovered the gun and an ounce of weed.
Little Wolf lay there with thoughts of a murder charge hanging over him. He was sure the guy he had shot was dead. The last he’d seen was him lying in a big pool of blood. He was also certain that they’d trace the gun back.
Later that day a solicitor came in to see him. His client was the Pontiac driver who was a rich man. All Little Wolf had to do was say that it was him that had jumped the lights and the gun and weed would magically disappear.
He jumped at the offer.
Later the four of them went back to the van. It was still on its side at the side of the road but it had been stripped. The wheels, engine and even seats had been taken. All they possessed were the clothes on their back and the money in their pocket.
His friend decided to hitch back to the West Coast with his girl and Little Wolf and his girlfriend had hitched to New York. Somehow Little Wolf and his girl had become separated in the rush hour and he couldn’t find her again. He looked for three days and then decided to head back to Boston in the hopes that she’d have the same idea. That seemed a long shot to me. But that was how he had become a dishwasher in the Delihaus.
He was hanging around hoping to meet up with his girl again.
I was beginning to wonder if everyone else in the Deli was a violent axe man, secret poisoner or vicious stabber. But they all seemed very cheery, normal and friendly. So it was only Boris and Little Wolf.
It made me think though when a young man was shot dead outside the door of the Deli one night. Once again we were inundated with armed police but nobody had seen anything and all the diners carried on eating as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
I was only there two months. If I had been there a year I might have discovered more skeletons in a few more closets.

Respect Award – Thank you Danica Piche!

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Danica has very kindly nominated me for this award.

I’m big on respect. So this is a nice one to be given.

I’m not sure what I feel about rewards. As a teacher I was big on them but I can see why so many people chose to have award-free blogs. It is not about awards is it? That’s not why we’re doing it.

Even so – RESPECT – that is the basis of a lot of good things.

If you get the chance, take the trouble to visit Danica’s site. It’s very good!

danicapiche.woedpress.com

In the meantime – RESPECT!!!!

 

Anecdote – A Bedford van around Europe!

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I incorporated some of the stories of my various travels round Europe and America into this novel – Goofin’ with the Cosmic Freaks – a kind of sixties ‘On the Road’.

A Bedford van around Europe

There were four of us: my wife Liz, my friend Pete and his new wife Julia. We aimed to travel round Europe for the summer. Pete had bought an old Bedford Van and we worked out a loose itinery.

We set off in our beat-up van with four bunks and basic stove much to the bemusement of Julia’s parents. We gathered that it wasn’t quite their idea of a honeymoon.

All went well. We caught the ferry and toodled around France, Switzerland, Austria and Germany. In Paris we discovered the disadvantages of not having a toilet on board. The cafés wouldn’t let you use the toilet unless you bought something. First thing in the morning was fun – ordering coffee cross-legged.

The plan was then to head down to the tip of Italy, ferry across to Greece and work our way back through Yugoslavia. That did not work quite to plan.

Italy was great. We took the scenic route on the old road, up and down mountains on the windy road. We had time and saw all the little villages. Besides, we did not have money for the tolls.

At the top of a mountain the van would not start. We tried rolling it down and bump-starting it but it still would not catch. In the end we free-wheeled it down the mountain to the little village at the bottom. It was a bit hairy hurtling round the corners with no engine engaged. The van veered around a little and leaned rather precariously. But we got down in one piece, free-wheeled as far as possible and pushed it to a little garage in the centre of the village fronting on to the sea.

The mechanics, who could not speak a word of English, seemed quite amused at the sight of a quaint old Bedford van with its four colourfully attired, long-haired characters. The sixties had not yet arrived in this part of Italy. But they were very friendly. They helped push the van on to the ramp and began pulling the engine to bits.

In the afternoon, with bits of engine all over the place, one of the mechanics managed to explain that we had burnt a valve out and that they would have to order a part from England. That would take a week.

That was a bit of a bummer. That was our home he was talking about.

We were homeless.

We managed to convey this to the mechanics who kept smiling and shaking their heads.

It seemed that they were happy for us to live in the van up on the ramp in their garage. They let us use their toilet and sink.

All was good. We had our home back.

For a week we lived on a ramp in an Italian garage. All day we’d mess about on the beach and in the sea and at night they’d wave to us and lock us in for the night.

I can imagine the tales and gossip concerning the four British Hippies living in their garage. They found it very funny.

The part duly arrived. The van was mended and we resumed our adventure. Pisa, Venice, Rome and Florence were all, strangely, extremely Italian and different. We couldn’t afford to eat much but feasted on melon and fruit.

There was no time to go to Greece though.

We saved that for another day.

Anecdote – Wedding Number Three – The Pagan Maypole Fiasco

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Wedding Number Three – The Pagan Maypole Fiasco

As it was May 1st and Liz’s twenty first birthday we decided to get a Maypole fertility symbol and do our own Woodstock gathering/pagan ceremony.

We invited all our friends and family.

Liz’s parents boycotted it.

Richmond Park would not let us put up a Maypole.

We couldn’t get a Maypole.

We had no money, food, drink or sounds.

So we sent out an invite (a photo of us with handwritten invite on the back) all our friends to a Pagan wedding ceremony in Oxshot Woods.

Everyone had to bring food and drink to share and perform something – A poem, song, mime, dance – we got the lot.

We found a clearing in among the trees, a friend set up a sound system from his van and everyone gathered- they somehow found us.

We had been a little concerned as the week before the heavens had opened and it had snowed. But it shined on us and was warm and pleasant. We set the woods alight with laughter, dancing, guitars, Rock, mime (? – yes mime), drama, singing and had fun. There was food and drink aplenty.

We’d collected these ice-cream tubs from cinemas which were like Greek goblets. They worked well.

It went like magic. It was magic. My parents sat serenely in the middle while everyone, long-haired and in the brightest colours, cavorted around. I have a mental picture of them sitting there enjoying it – my Dad with pipe in mouth and my Mum smiling.

Instead of a maypole we had a living tree. We had a big circle dance. It was crazy and mad. It was a fiasco that all went to plan!

That was the best Wedding of the three!

Anecdote – Wedding Number Two – The Registry Office

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Wedding Number Two

I enjoyed Wedding Number One. It was all up in the air and interesting. Nobody quite knew what was going to happen next.

Wedding Number Two was scheduled for the next week in the morning. We were going to make the whole thing legal, bring all the family into harmonious rapport, bring world peace and solve the Vietnam War. We decided to only invited parents and brothers and sisters to this one.

Liz’s father rang up the night before and begged her to call it off. Liz’s Mum boycotted this one as well. We were off to a good start – I still had hopes for Vietnam.

As Wedding Number Three – The Pagan ceremony – was in the afternoon we brought all the food in the back of the car. Liz had diced Cheese and butter, which was in plastic bowls, and cut French Sticks into slices. They adorned the back seat.

Unfortunately the car wouldn’t go. We were pushing it up and down the road in our wedding gear. Some guy offered to fix it for a fiver so we paid him – and he did.

We set off very late and hurtled round the North Circular – at that time unbeset by Speed Cameras. I was desperate to make up time as we were three weddings late.

We got cut up by some idiot and I had to slam on the brakes. We got deluged with cheese and butter and were picking lumps out of our hair. I think nerves were a little fraught and we found ourselves having our first (but not last) blazing row. I should not have jammed the brakes on!

We arrived only two weddings late.

Liz’s Dad was looking rather pleased. He thought we weren’t coming.

But we’d missed our slot.

Fortunately an old girlfriend of mine helped us out. She was getting married in th3e next slot and had forgotten to pick up the banns. We slotted in to her space.

It was rather a sober affair. We went in with just our family (minus Liz’s Mum) and said our words, signed the certificate and went out.

My Mum tried to add a wedding atmosphere by giving my little sister a little silver horseshoe to give to us. She may even have thrown a little bit of confetti.

Wedding Two was done and dusted!

Anecdote – Wedding Number One – The Buddhist Ceremony. (There are some photos in the photo gallery – sixties photos)

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Wedding Number One.

Wedding number one was A Buddhist wedding in the Temple at Sheen, Richmond. In true sixties fashion we had been going along there regularly to meditate. It was very pleasant. We had a friend called Gary Turp, who I haven’t seen for forty years, who was very into the Incredible String Band and Buddhism. He got us interested. I enjoyed it and learnt a lot.

We also made friends with a very wise monk by the name of Vorasak Candamitto. He was one of the happiest people I’ve ever met – must say something.

So we organised for a wedding ceremony and received a verbal okay.

Then we had to decide who to invite. We couldn’t fit all our friends in so we decided this was one for the relatives. It left them a little bemused so that was also okay.

On the day Liz and I got into our wedding gear. Liz had made it all. She had a dress in yellow, orange and red check which looked rather nice. She made me a top out of the same material so that we matched. She also made me this trousers of red velvet. We looked very colourful in our orange and red.

We arrived at the temple still not quite sure what, if anything was going to happen. The relatives all trooped in and we were shown to the front where we sat on cushions.

Much to our surprise the whole place was decorated with red and orange with lots of red and orange tulips. We matched!

Then a dozen monks came in. I did not know there were that many!

The ceremony was wonderful. The monks chanted and made this incredible sonorous sound. We lit candles and incense and got splashed with water. The monks chanting was intended to create Loving Kindness which was focused on that water. When the congregation and ourselves were splashed they were spreading the Loving Kindness around. I’m all in favour of Loving Kindness. We recited some words in Sanskrit. I’m not sure what we said. We could have been signing up to some Thai cult. It was probably about staying true to the path of goodness.

Then it was over.

The temple had arranged for someone to take a few photos and we ended up with three hazy black and white prints.

It wasn’t the usual wedding.

Liz’s parents boycotted it. I don’t think they approved of me.

I’m not sure what the relatives made of it. Some of them were very staid. We probably blew a few minds and sent a few tongues wagging.

One point of contention seemed to focus around whether we were actually married or not? Was it recognised?

Well that didn’t matter to us. But it seemed to matter to some. Particularly as Wedding two – The Registry Office  – was not until the following week.

Were we living in sin for the week?

Well as we had been doing for a year we thought that was quite amusing. How times change.

Anecdote – Our three weddings

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Our three weddings.

Marriage was not something either of us believed in – so we had three.

We believed that the only real commitment was our love for each other. We had no need for a wedding.

However, we were aware that our parents did not quite share the same view. As Liz’s parents were not talking to me we thought a marriage might break the ice, build the bridges, douse the fire, patch things up and a host of other clichés.

Needless to say it failed spectacularly on the friendly repair side.

I can’t think why?

So we organised a Buddhist wedding, a registry office wedding and a Pagan Wedding in Windsor Park complete with Maypole on May 1st. It seemed a bit of a laugh, an excuse to bring all our friends together and a way of appeasing parents and relatives.

Two out of three’s not bad!

Anecdote – Two Lesbians, a baby and our breakfast

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Two lesbians, a baby and our breakfast

During my first year at college I managed to get digs in a house run by two lesbians. We did not know they were lesbians at the time because we were young and innocent and they threw us off the scent by having a baby.

There were two bedrooms and a sitting room. Me and Pete Smith shared one bedroom and Pete Smith and Ronnie Smith shared the other. Yes – three Smiths and me and two of them called Pete. It made for interest if there was mail for a P Smith – or even an R Smith if the writing was scruffy.

The beauty of our digs was that it included breakfast. That was good because all my money was going on gigs, LPs and petrol for the motorbike. Eating was a novelty.

We discovered the lesbian nature of our landladies when doing a stint of babysitting. They had a whole library of lesbian books with sections underlined – ‘It is better to be a eunuch than a man’ I remember. Anyway – the penny dropped. It explained why one of them always wore dresses and the other had short hair and wore men’s suits and a trilby. You might have thought we would have been more perceptive but we’d all had a cosseted existence.

One day we got up and waited for our breakfast to materialise but there were no smells of bacon, sausage and eggs and we went hungry.

Our two ladies had fallen out. One of them was pregnant again. We surmised (being highly intelligent) that there could be some infidelity on the cards.

Breakfast did resume the next day and it was noted that there was a frosty atmosphere between the two ladies.

It always seemed strange to me that it was the more masculine of the couple who was the one who had become pregnant. She obviously wasn’t quite as manly as we had thought.

Anecdote – My girlfriend rolling uphill

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My girlfriend rolling uphill

When I lived in Ilford my girlfriend, who was at Dance College in Weybridge, would come over to stay. She had a three wheeler which was made of fibre-glass and a motorbike engine.

One time she set off and got lost in the London traffic. It was getting a bit fraught and she was getting in a bit of a state.

She found herself stuck in a queue on a steep hill trying to figure where she needed to turn to get to Ilford. Unfortunately she hadn’t applied the hand-brake too well and while she was studying the map the car went back and hit the car behind.

It was only a minor bump with no damage done but as she made no attempt to get out of the car the guy behind got out and peered in.

She tried to ignore him as he tapped on her window. Eventually she wound the window down.

‘I think you have just rolled back into me,’ he stated.

She looked back innocently at him and said ‘I think you probably rolled forward into me.’

He stood for a moment befuddled, looking back at the steep hill and the car. Then he shrugged and went back to his car.

When she finally arrived and related it to me I could not stop laughing.

Anecdote – Digs in Ilford

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My digs in Ilford

I shared a tiny room in a flat with my friend Pete. It was so narrow that we had a single bed each side and there was a narrow gangway between. In that space we had a paraffin heater that was on constantly. It was one of those big round stove-like contraptions. We discovered that if we put a full kettle of water on top of the heater there was enough hot water left in it by morning to make two mugs of cocoa. That was breakfast sorted. We did not have to get up. We just reached, poured and drank.

The room was freezing. There was no such thing as central heating. At one end of our room were drafty French Windows. We blocked up all the cracks with newspaper but it was single glass and the heat disappeared through it like water through sand. The inside of those panes were coated with exceedingly pretty ice crystals. We heaped all our clothes on the bed for warmth. Looking back it is a wonder we did not suffocate.

At the other end of the room was a partition. The other side of which was Hans of the buzzsaw snore.

Pete collected harmoniums and had three piled up on top of each other against that wall. He also made musical instruments, light shows, and contraptions. He was an inventor. We had mandoyukes and ukolins, guitars and violins littered around.

We alleviated the gloom by putting posters up on the wall. These were on various social and environmental issues that took our fancy, cut out from magazines and collaged on sugar-paper.

I had my record player and a pile of albums that were communally played and not given the respect they deserved. I spent a lot of my grant on LPs from the second hand shops – there were a lot of Folkways albums in the old substantial cardboard covers appearing for a quid a go. A lot of my Hendrix, Traffic and Floyd, which seemed very popular, received a few too many scratches from that time.

Lipher, my pet rat, lived in, or rather on, her bird-cage. She would wander round the room and eat the soap if she could get at it.

We had a little sink with cold water.

It was a squalid, dingy, tiny, little room but did we have some times there! It rocked.