If he was to do anything with his life he needed some support! However reflecting on some of the comments he had received over the years he was not sure from where that support would be coming.
At primary school he had received a final comment of “...will make the front or back pages of the Newspapers.” Now, you can look at these comments in two ways either, he was to be famous or notorious, and he liked to think, even at this age, he was a little bit of both! These reputation-al comments were to follow him throughout his educational experience; at his preparatory Boarding school he was to receive the type of encouragement that has made this nation such good losers, “…he seems to believe that Sport is all that matters; we do not share his view.” No wonder we have been so good at coming second for so long with this attitude, surely if someone shows aptitude in anything they should be encouraged not put down?
Things did not improve at secondary school with comments ranging from the derogatory, “guttersnipe” to the faintly encouraging, “thick but decent!” both of which may have had an element of truth, but were hardly the comments to give as a reference or build a career on!! Although by College things had improved somewhat and he felt that maybe things were looking up he was to be brought down again by the farewell comment of one of his tutors, “You know, you would have got on better if you had cooperated more” a comment that left him with the feeling that, yet again, he had disappointed others without being aware of it himself. But this was still in the future and, for the moment, he had other things to concern him.
One of these was the Combined Cadet Force or CCF that he, along with every other boy, enjoyed or endured, depending on your view, every Thursday afternoon. From the start he knew it was not for him; to begin with he was not into dressing up, then there was the mundane drills, the pointless exercises and, worst of all, those who enjoyed it and gave him orders; something he had always had difficulty with. It seemed to him that if you were academic and spotty you did well in the CCF and if you were sporty and normal you did not! There were to be frequent run-ins with authority in the form of spotty bespectacled nerds who, for the rest of the week were insignificants, but who, for these few hours, thought they had the power to get one over on the “normals”. He was determined not to give in to them even if it meant, and it often did, running around the play/parade ground with a rifle above his head swearing to himself that he would seek revenge. Unfortunately there were staff who also partook in this charade and, with one exception, they too were the academic/spotty type who had little authority in the classroom and like the pupil officers, tried to find authority via a third party, the armed forces.
In this gloom there was the odd shaft of light; each year there was an annual inspection when the school paraded for some visiting minor dignitaries who had a spurious association with the Military. However, one of these was a father of a friend and he used to brighten up the day with a wink and a friendly smile! Also, the University students across the road used to come out, awakened no doubt by the Band, to watch and join in with dustbin lids and other non-military noises to try and drown the noise! The other enjoyable time was when he went up to Queensferry in Scotland with the naval section, a section he had joined as it had a reputation for being less strict, for the annual camp. It was different in so much as you were under the jurisdiction of real service personnel and treated as young adults rather than an extension of the person you were at school. One occasion summed up his attitude to the CCF and showed his priorities; he and another lad Ray, went into the local area during free time and found a café with a jukebox and some local girls. A good time was had by all and when it came time to return to barracks they stayed on listening to such classics as Speedy Gonzales rather than meet the curfew! However, the time came when they had to return and, knowing they were in trouble, they concocted a story on the way back that they had been set on by local yobs and, to add authenticity to their account, they scraped their knuckles on the road and ruffed themselves up a bit! On arrival they gave their account of the trouble they had encountered and how they had had to fight their way out and, whilst you could tell the Regulars were somewhat sceptical, the schoolmasters bought it; maybe they were just relieved of their return! So they got away with it and lived off the story for a good while.
But that was to be the end of his military service as soon after the school introduced a get-out policy for disaffected pupils and he was one, if not the first, to opt out and spend his Thursday afternoons in more productive ways…
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