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DavePage
Member Elite
since 2003-12-21
Posts 2917


0 posted 2004-04-04 07:01 PM


STANDBY

Leaving home

I looked out of the window and watched the rain slowly dripped down.  

Starting at the top other intrepid souls slowly sacrificed their water working their way down until they blended into a puddle.

I never thought of our house as a particularly inspiring site;  the stone wall by the pavement prevented us seeing out and everyone else could see in, so it was bloody useless when you thought about it, and we spent most of our time in our bedroom looking out, and then quietly climbing out;  over the wall, and down next door's steps.

Courting or our feverish attempts at anything like it, were never conducted our wall.   The privet hedge next door was a much better bet, and you couldn't be heard so easily.

I used to think it was nothing.  Now, I can understand the mentality that makes these things necessary and why people seek isolation from people.

The rain wasn't going to ease off, and I was on my way to Plymouth, joining up.

I didn't know it was the last time I would see home, or what would happen when I really returned to a home once again, or whose home for that matter, so I left the drains, shared bathroom and bedroom, and all my failed attempts at growing up, picked up my Bag, and opened the front door.

As I left I remembered Cassandra, Beryl was always second fiddle, and Beryl more than anyone taught me that the best place for classical music is to sit at the back of the orchestra.   Not bad for a mature girl of 11.   Still if I could foul anything up with a girl, I usually did, and I was so inept that the whole neighborhood was safe for a good twenty miles.

I never understood those who fancied me, and always went for those who didn't;  still I've spent most of my life doing that

I climbed up the steps.

Behind the tree which was always in the way when I was waving in the summer,  I could see the window I had declared my love to, again and again.   Standing up in my pajamas in love, a love that probably mirrors any love I have known since.   Worshipping so much, and feeling the world was mind - and why not, when you don't know any better.

I'll always remember when she went to the big school by the Scrubs prison.   How I used to change my route to try and meet her on her way home from school.

I never thought about how I supposedly had gone from Fulham to Old Oak, when my own home lay in the middle, but when you are in love - nothing matters in the world.

I met her once on this mystic route, and needless to say went speechless, apart from the mumble that has often characterised my later years.

I've always made a fool of myself with women I love, I don't know "it's a form of escape I suppose".

I left that road with it's trees, it good deeds, and a lot of enjoyment, and people I now realised I loved, although how I could have told them, or understood enough to know when I was well off, is another matter.

I caught the 12 bus at the end of the road at the bus stop opposite the church.

I always thought a canvas bag a bit strange but it was navy issue, and I didn't have a lot to carry, so everything went straight in.   I always liked to sit just inside the door on a bus - I hate the closed doors they have now.  

I always felt strange even on the old buses sitting further down in the bus;  same feeling for upstairs.

I suppose it's still there, since I always stand at the bar unless I'm with a girl.

Needless to say the Conductress was very nice, even in serge trousers, which considering it was October and raining was sensible, and she looked warm.

Leaving home, Luv.

Joining up.

Bit young aren't you.    

I love freckles in a blond.   Put them with blue eyes, and I have just fell off this page.

What's your first port of call then.

Shepherd's Bush, please.

Where are going from there.

Paddington.

Well just watch your luggage, while you there.

She reeled me off a ticket, and went back to her cubby-hole by the open deck.

I got off the bus, opposite the green, and walked up to the station.   The Central line would go direct to Paddington.

Needless to say, I managed to get to Paddington.   I always managed to get to places.  It just seems to take me a bit longer.

British Rail trains are funny.   I've always felt at home in them, but the old ones have gone now, for very good reasons, since these days women aren't safe in them.

I have a passion for the old mouldy, smelly, blind dangling compartments.  

Nowadays it is all modern, but in those days, even second class could pretend it was first class, and pull the blinds down.

There was this lovely blond girl who came into the carriage.   Her eyes were blue, the buttons on the top of her dress were undone, and I stared.   Those eyes were lovely;  full of fun; laughing;  she made you feel you were King, and the smile.   It rose from dimples and freckles to her eyes, which took you in and caressed you.   One of these days, I am going to know what to do in these circumstances.

Her voice was West Country, and her laughter at me was genuine and friendly.

I was dumb struck  with nothing to say.

Where are you from she said, her voice softly caressing.

Yondon I mumbled.  

Yondon, she laughed.   I don't know that.  

I've been to London, but where is Yondon.  

"I was born in Shepherd's Bush".  

Didn't the Shepherd like you then, she said.

I love women.   I have to admit.   No resistance at all.

How old are you.    Sixteen I said, trying to get the dry feeling out of my throat.

Have you ever kissed a girl.

Why is it, women like to control.   She could tell I hadn't even kissed the family dog from the look on my face.

Completely crimson, I suddenly noticed that my legs were wide apart, and there was a bulge, I hadn't thought about.

She laughed even more.

Sweetheart - you poor boy.

She moved over the carriage and sat beside me, putting her head against mine.

Didn't they teach you anything.

You are going to have to come and see me in Plymouth.   I think you need some night school, to catch up on your education.

She lifted my head gently in her hand, and kissed me softly.  

I felt her tongue.   I didn't know how to respond.   She stopped kissing me.  

Have you ever felt a woman?  

She took my hand, and slowly moved it down to her knees, and then up between her thighs.

I felt a soft feel, and something beneath it that was hot.

Oh you really are a virgin, she said.   You poor sweet.

You are going to need more than night school.

Years later, I remembered her as Chinese girls chanted 'Cherry Boy' and I hid her knickers so she would have to stay a bit longer.


Plymouth

There is something about a Naval Provost Marshall that puts the fear of god into you, and they are not a religious bunch, even to their friends.

The first and last time I saw Regulating Petty Officer O'reilly.   The navy didn't seem to have that many Irishmen in the Regulating Branch.

Dumped your gear in the lorry and get on board the coach.   You're first, so you can wait for the rest.

Climbing aboard the bus, I went to the back and settled down, out of sight.

I heard voices and then people started to board the bus.   I received my first introduction to naval regulations.

The Royal Navy only took Writers in as adults.   However, the Royal Navy's definition of an adult was that you were not a boy e.g., over 16.

I therefore was considered an adult at 16.   My time of service wouldn't count until I was 18, and I wouldn't be paid the full rate for the job until then, nor would I be allowed the privileges of the people doing the same job alongside me, but I would be expected to perform as an adult, whilst I was paid as a Junior for two years and the time would not count towards my engagement of 9 years.

In short, I had engaged at the age of 16  to serve in the Royal Navy for 11 years, and as a young immature boy, was thrust into the world of men.

I regarded that now, as I did then, as hypocrisy.   I fought it for the rest of my service in the Royal Navy.   The damage it caused, haunts me now, and still 34 years later leaves me with a stigma that makes me fight.

The bus filled up.

A young Scot climbed onboard.   Blake.   A pair of glasses sat opposite - Turner.   A thickset Welshman - Bodwin.   Reilly - Irish.  Gurney - cockney.   The numbers carried on coming.   No-one wanted to talk.   We had started, until told to pipe down in there.   At which point we kept mum.

The coach started and eventually, having come to yet another halt.

Right you lot  off the coach and down to the ferry.  

My first and only introduction to the Torpoint ferry.

Disembarked on the one side - re-embarked on the other, and on to H.M.S. Zeus via yet another blue coach.

All I ever saw of Devon, since I was never allowed out in six weeks until, we were moved to secondary training, and civilisation beckoned.

I managed during this time, only to keep up my interest, to get a pain in the groin.   From this they discovered I had managed to implant leather into my heels, thus poisoning myself.

My punishment for this was avoiding the " tear your gas mask off to see what the gas smells like  test", and instead getting my backside punctured on a regular basis, by a pervert who liked to spank your bottom on the ground that you wouldn't know where the needle was going.

The direction of  the needle, was often the least of your thoughts.

Arr the pleasures of civilisation.   Or bugger that for a lark, if you are so inclined, get me out of here.

Chatham

Housed in buildings built by Napoleonic prisoners, and treated with the same discretion.   We could at least play snooker - courtesy of the Welfare Committee.

Inspections happened fairly frequently, and we were encouraged to display competitive zeal.   Cleaning up like madmen, to win a cake, whilst another madman wearing white gloves looked for a speck of dust.   One of us should have been in an institution, but as luck what have it, we both were.

The other episodes of people being scrubbed with boot polish and hard brushes, is something, you will be told happens no more - don't believe it.   Any tribe with someone that doesnt fit in, will turn on them and destroy them, if they don't conform, or are not prepared to go through sufficient motions to appear to do so.   The British still enjoy this hobby.

I learnt at this time to play hockey.   Not very well, but I was agile as a goal-keeper and could usually get to the puck before they got to me, which is an advantage, but enough of this, let us move to the big stage.

During the course we all took duty on the parade ground for colours.

As luck would have it, I was on duty, on that eventful day when Churchill died.

Everything went perfectly, until having moved the flag down to half-mast, I made one step forward, turned left and marched to my next position.

Had anyone else moved, I would have been happy.   But having realised as I made the first step, that only myself was walking, I experience a distinct feeling of unease.

I was saved by two golden rules of the forces - obey the last order, and even when making a fool of yourself, do as you have been trained.

My marching couldn't be faulted as my single pair of boots echoed across the parade ground, hitting the buildings opposite,  and gently caressing my ears on their return journey, as they looked to see if I had managed to progress any further.  

It was just that no-one had thought to tell me that half-mast flags usually had silence attached to them, and to this day, I remember 295 still bodies out of 296 on the parade ground, and the complete stream of obscenities that followed from the Chief GI.

Style - I always thought - just comes with the breeding.



© Copyright 2004 Dave Page - All Rights Reserved
merlynh
Member
since 1999-09-26
Posts 411
deer park, wa
1 posted 2004-04-07 10:20 AM


You'll have to excuse me if you don't see my posts because I am far too busy writing full time.  Every now and then I find something worth my time.  I love so much to hang on to every word when I read something. I like you style of writing, your voice works for you, truely it must come with the breeding.
Susan Caldwell
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-12-27
Posts 8348
Florida
2 posted 2004-04-07 03:28 PM


Dave~

I must admit I am having a hard time understanding your meaning.  For example:

"I managed during this time, only to keep up my interest, to get a pain in the groin.   From this they discovered I had managed to implant leather into my heels, thus poisoning myself."

I have no clue what that means???  

I realize this might be a cultural/language thing...but my curiosity has been peaked so could you explain for me please?

thank you!

"cast me gently into the morning, for the night has been unkind"
~Sarah McLachlan~

MGROVES
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Elite
since 2004-02-01
Posts 3802
california
3 posted 2005-02-25 10:57 PM


just checkin out some of
your archives~
interesting~


froggy
Senior Member
since 2003-06-23
Posts 1893
Michigan
4 posted 2005-07-16 06:42 PM


Dave,
  I love This whole piece. It speaks of many things if one looks and reads it closely.
Enjoyed this read.

:-)

<^^> Today the pond....Tomorrow the world

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