J
Jerry
Guest
My Pal Bob
I’ve just been thinking about a pal I had back in the 50s, he was just an ordinary kid, full of mischief, cheerful and likeable and good natured. In fact it would be fair to say there wasn’t a bad bone in his body, but life and events conspired to turn this ordinary decent kid into a vicious tearaway.
So this is Bob’s story, I don’t think there are any heroes in this story, as for villains, I’ll leave that for you to decide.
Bob lived in one of the flats in Green Lane with his Mum and Dad and a brother and sister who were both several years older than him.
Bob’s Mum had a hard life, although being kids we never realised at the time.
Bob’s Dad suffered from either chronic bronchitis or emphysema or some such illness that left him short of breath all the time and meant he was housebound and every time I saw him he would be sat by the coal fire, even in summer, with a blanket wrapped round him and a tin can to use as a spittoon.
So because Bob’s Dad was invalided his Mum was the only one bringing any money into the house and times were hard.
Bob’s Mum seemed like a harridan to us, and I suppose she was really, but with the benefit of hindsight I now realise how hard her life was. Always short of money, struggling to feed and clothe and look after her three kids and an invalid husband and going to work as well!
I always remember her as being poorly dressed with dishevelled hair and again with hindsight I now realise that all her money must have gone to feed and clothe her kids and I don’t suppose there was ever any spare for herself.
As I said, Bob’s Mum was a harridan and was very strict with the kids, they were told when their meals would be ready and if Bob was late she would wait until he showed up and then, in front of him, throw the meal in the bin and let him go hungry.
No I’m not exaggerating, many was the time I had to take him to our house and ask our Mum to give him something to eat and even though times were hard for our Mum as well she would always find something for him even if it was only bread and jam.
So Bob never got much love from his Mum and his brother and sister being several years older than him tended to ignore him for the most part so at home the only person who had any time for him was his Dad.
Bob loved his Dad, who would talk to him for hours on end and joke and tell him funny stories and again with hindsight I now realise it was because Bob’s dad spent most of his waking hours sat alone by the fire so he was probably glad of the company.
Now picture this, by the time we were twelve me and Bob both smoked, which of course was nothing unusual in those days. Now Bob’s Dad wasn’t supposed to smoke because of his illness and Bob’s Mum wouldn’t buy him any cigarettes no matter how hard he pleaded and because he was housebound the only way he could get hold of any cigarettes was to send me or Bob to get them while Bob’s Mum was at work
So he’d send for ten cigarettes and he’d give me and Bob one each and there would be the three of us puffing away and carefully blowing the smoke up the chimney so Bob’s Mum wouldn’t know!
Well, when we were both thirteen, Bob’s world fell apart.
It was a Saturday morning in summer and me and bob were in his house and had just finished a crafty fag with his Dad, who then struggled to his feet and went out to the toilet, which was off of the hallway.
After a few minutes we heard shouts and cries from the toilet and we both rushed to see what was wrong and found Bob’s Dad on all fours on the toilet floor. He was understandably very thin and light and between us we were able to lift him back on to the toilet seat and I told Bob to hold on to him while I went for help.
After knocking on a couple of doors I eventually alerted one of the neighbours and she and her husband ran back to the flat with me, I suppose all this couldn’t have took more than five minutes but by the time we got back Bob’s dad was dead.
So there was Bob, stood in his father’s excrement while the person he loved most in life died in his arms and all this at the tender age of thirteen!
Well after that there was no love in Bob’s house, I think it was probably the last straw for his Mum and she seemed to give up the ghost and didn’t want to know about anything.
Well me and Bob were still pals for a while after that but I watched him change.
He started stealing, I don’t mean the usual sweet raids on Woolworths that we all took part in, but serious stealing, from school and from friends’ houses and then he graduated to all out burglary.
This was a road I didn’t want to travel so we gradually drifted apart and the same applied to a lot of other kids so pretty soon he was losing his pals and becoming even more isolated and resentful.
He went through the usual gamut of punishments, warnings and fines and probation and then one day when he arrived home with bags full of loot which he’d just stolen from one of their neighbours she washed her hands of him completely and had him put into care.
The next time I heard from him he’d been sent to an approved school for three years and after that I lost touch completely until I was about 22
It was about midnight and I was walking into town from Small heath to get the Night service bus to Aston
I was by Bordesley Railway station when two kids passed me going in the other direction, one of them was carrying what looked like a walking cane, they eyed me up and I remember thinking I was gonna be in some trouble here when one of them spoke, “ I know you, it’s Jerry isn’t it?” he said.
That’s right it was Bob
He asked me where I was going and I told him, then he showed me the walking cane which turned out to be a sword stick and he said something to the effect that they were going to “do me” until he realised I was his old pal.
I don’t remember the exact words, to be honest I was too scared to take it all in
Then he said they were off to steal a car and then they would drive into town and if they spotted me on the way they’d give me a lift and that was the last time I saw or heard from my old pal Bob
His last words as they walked off that night were something like “you’re alright ,because you were a good pal”
So there’s Bob’s story, do with it what you will but before we finish maybe one of you good readers can tell me who to bless and who to blame because I don’t know
I’ve just been thinking about a pal I had back in the 50s, he was just an ordinary kid, full of mischief, cheerful and likeable and good natured. In fact it would be fair to say there wasn’t a bad bone in his body, but life and events conspired to turn this ordinary decent kid into a vicious tearaway.
So this is Bob’s story, I don’t think there are any heroes in this story, as for villains, I’ll leave that for you to decide.
Bob lived in one of the flats in Green Lane with his Mum and Dad and a brother and sister who were both several years older than him.
Bob’s Mum had a hard life, although being kids we never realised at the time.
Bob’s Dad suffered from either chronic bronchitis or emphysema or some such illness that left him short of breath all the time and meant he was housebound and every time I saw him he would be sat by the coal fire, even in summer, with a blanket wrapped round him and a tin can to use as a spittoon.
So because Bob’s Dad was invalided his Mum was the only one bringing any money into the house and times were hard.
Bob’s Mum seemed like a harridan to us, and I suppose she was really, but with the benefit of hindsight I now realise how hard her life was. Always short of money, struggling to feed and clothe and look after her three kids and an invalid husband and going to work as well!
I always remember her as being poorly dressed with dishevelled hair and again with hindsight I now realise that all her money must have gone to feed and clothe her kids and I don’t suppose there was ever any spare for herself.
As I said, Bob’s Mum was a harridan and was very strict with the kids, they were told when their meals would be ready and if Bob was late she would wait until he showed up and then, in front of him, throw the meal in the bin and let him go hungry.
No I’m not exaggerating, many was the time I had to take him to our house and ask our Mum to give him something to eat and even though times were hard for our Mum as well she would always find something for him even if it was only bread and jam.
So Bob never got much love from his Mum and his brother and sister being several years older than him tended to ignore him for the most part so at home the only person who had any time for him was his Dad.
Bob loved his Dad, who would talk to him for hours on end and joke and tell him funny stories and again with hindsight I now realise it was because Bob’s dad spent most of his waking hours sat alone by the fire so he was probably glad of the company.
Now picture this, by the time we were twelve me and Bob both smoked, which of course was nothing unusual in those days. Now Bob’s Dad wasn’t supposed to smoke because of his illness and Bob’s Mum wouldn’t buy him any cigarettes no matter how hard he pleaded and because he was housebound the only way he could get hold of any cigarettes was to send me or Bob to get them while Bob’s Mum was at work
So he’d send for ten cigarettes and he’d give me and Bob one each and there would be the three of us puffing away and carefully blowing the smoke up the chimney so Bob’s Mum wouldn’t know!
Well, when we were both thirteen, Bob’s world fell apart.
It was a Saturday morning in summer and me and bob were in his house and had just finished a crafty fag with his Dad, who then struggled to his feet and went out to the toilet, which was off of the hallway.
After a few minutes we heard shouts and cries from the toilet and we both rushed to see what was wrong and found Bob’s Dad on all fours on the toilet floor. He was understandably very thin and light and between us we were able to lift him back on to the toilet seat and I told Bob to hold on to him while I went for help.
After knocking on a couple of doors I eventually alerted one of the neighbours and she and her husband ran back to the flat with me, I suppose all this couldn’t have took more than five minutes but by the time we got back Bob’s dad was dead.
So there was Bob, stood in his father’s excrement while the person he loved most in life died in his arms and all this at the tender age of thirteen!
Well after that there was no love in Bob’s house, I think it was probably the last straw for his Mum and she seemed to give up the ghost and didn’t want to know about anything.
Well me and Bob were still pals for a while after that but I watched him change.
He started stealing, I don’t mean the usual sweet raids on Woolworths that we all took part in, but serious stealing, from school and from friends’ houses and then he graduated to all out burglary.
This was a road I didn’t want to travel so we gradually drifted apart and the same applied to a lot of other kids so pretty soon he was losing his pals and becoming even more isolated and resentful.
He went through the usual gamut of punishments, warnings and fines and probation and then one day when he arrived home with bags full of loot which he’d just stolen from one of their neighbours she washed her hands of him completely and had him put into care.
The next time I heard from him he’d been sent to an approved school for three years and after that I lost touch completely until I was about 22
It was about midnight and I was walking into town from Small heath to get the Night service bus to Aston
I was by Bordesley Railway station when two kids passed me going in the other direction, one of them was carrying what looked like a walking cane, they eyed me up and I remember thinking I was gonna be in some trouble here when one of them spoke, “ I know you, it’s Jerry isn’t it?” he said.
That’s right it was Bob
He asked me where I was going and I told him, then he showed me the walking cane which turned out to be a sword stick and he said something to the effect that they were going to “do me” until he realised I was his old pal.
I don’t remember the exact words, to be honest I was too scared to take it all in
Then he said they were off to steal a car and then they would drive into town and if they spotted me on the way they’d give me a lift and that was the last time I saw or heard from my old pal Bob
His last words as they walked off that night were something like “you’re alright ,because you were a good pal”
So there’s Bob’s story, do with it what you will but before we finish maybe one of you good readers can tell me who to bless and who to blame because I don’t know
was it because of my Elec/Engineer training :?: Or some distant 30 odd year old memories kicking in :?: Mmmmh I wonder (wander) sometimes myself :!:
