head of department about my occasional absences I just about held down a full time post, but was not spending enough time with family or progressing in either ‘career’. When the head teacher caustically remarked that she had enjoyed my commentary from St James Park on the midweek cup replay between Leeds and Newcastle and added that I must have had a remarkable journey up the A1 to get there on time for the kick off, I knew that I had been rumbled.
Both our kids were happy at school but I managed to first convince myself and then my wife that our future lay in inner city Birmingham and so that’s where we headed. There was however one earlier ‘brush’ with a major sport that was to have life altering ramifications, and a postscript to this one.
Although the head’s comment had effectively signalled the end of my radio ‘career’ there remained one very useful benefit which I cheerfully abused for the next five years. Over the course of countless visits to Headingley for the cricket and rugby league and Elland Road for the soccer I had got to know the commissionaires, who were all employed by the same company on a contract arrangement for match days at both venues. As a result, after my first few months, they never asked to see my press credentials. I carelessly omitted to inform them of my media demise and so, took advantages of free entry and the occasional bit of press hospitality whenever I was in Leeds.
“Haven’t seen you for a while” one remarked to which I truthfully replied that I had been doing some work in the Midlands. In the summer I enjoyed test matches and the lovely lunch in the press box courtesy of the sponsors. I sipped wine while watching Michael Holding imperiously set about the England batsmen, safe in the knowledge that I had no report to file. This all came to an ignominious end when next I arrived at Elland Road and was met by a security cordon that would have been more appropriate for the US Embassy.
The genial former commissionaires had been replaced by a different company and I was curtly asked to show my press credentials. I of course produced them while confidently engaging the man in carefree small talk. This came to an abrupt end when it was pointed out that my press card was five years out of date and I was ushered out with instructions as to the whereabouts of the nearest turnstile.
5.
BUILDING UP TO BRIGADIER GERARD 1971-1972
The Brook House was a large rambling boozer near Sefton Park in Liverpool and as I no prospect of work my frequent visits to it were lessening as funds were running low. Overhearing the lilting Welsh accent of the man at the next table I got the distinct impression of job possibilities.
Inviting myself over, I soon found that Elwyn Hughes was the proprietor of Langdale Contractors. He proudly showed me his new publicity leaflet which had, “Please note we only employ skilled tradesman” in large letters on the front page. Given that I’d just been listening to his tale of recruiting two men from the dole queue on a no questions asked basis I noted the contradiction but said nothing. When I explained that I too was ‘signing on’ he seemed delighted, told me to keep doing this and recruited me for thirty pounds a week as a general labourer.
Tarmac was where the money was and Elwyn employed a washed up alcoholic ex army captain, whose saving grace was a posh accent, to go door to door in affluent suburbs with the aim of drumming up business. He was known to the six employees of Langdale Contractors as ‘Rubber Gob’ and to add to his other challenges he was a gambling addict who bet on the horses every day.
I never did find out his real name and he left within weeks of me starting. Rubber Gob went on a horrendous bender as a result of another bad day at the bookies, phoned to say that he was sleeping it off, and was never heard of again. The resultant gap in the sales department (!) of the company was filled by me on the basis that I had
Both our kids were happy at school but I managed to first convince myself and then my wife that our future lay in inner city Birmingham and so that’s where we headed. There was however one earlier ‘brush’ with a major sport that was to have life altering ramifications, and a postscript to this one.
Although the head’s comment had effectively signalled the end of my radio ‘career’ there remained one very useful benefit which I cheerfully abused for the next five years. Over the course of countless visits to Headingley for the cricket and rugby league and Elland Road for the soccer I had got to know the commissionaires, who were all employed by the same company on a contract arrangement for match days at both venues. As a result, after my first few months, they never asked to see my press credentials. I carelessly omitted to inform them of my media demise and so, took advantages of free entry and the occasional bit of press hospitality whenever I was in Leeds.
“Haven’t seen you for a while” one remarked to which I truthfully replied that I had been doing some work in the Midlands. In the summer I enjoyed test matches and the lovely lunch in the press box courtesy of the sponsors. I sipped wine while watching Michael Holding imperiously set about the England batsmen, safe in the knowledge that I had no report to file. This all came to an ignominious end when next I arrived at Elland Road and was met by a security cordon that would have been more appropriate for the US Embassy.
The genial former commissionaires had been replaced by a different company and I was curtly asked to show my press credentials. I of course produced them while confidently engaging the man in carefree small talk. This came to an abrupt end when it was pointed out that my press card was five years out of date and I was ushered out with instructions as to the whereabouts of the nearest turnstile.
5.
BUILDING UP TO BRIGADIER GERARD 1971-1972
The Brook House was a large rambling boozer near Sefton Park in Liverpool and as I no prospect of work my frequent visits to it were lessening as funds were running low. Overhearing the lilting Welsh accent of the man at the next table I got the distinct impression of job possibilities.
Inviting myself over, I soon found that Elwyn Hughes was the proprietor of Langdale Contractors. He proudly showed me his new publicity leaflet which had, “Please note we only employ skilled tradesman” in large letters on the front page. Given that I’d just been listening to his tale of recruiting two men from the dole queue on a no questions asked basis I noted the contradiction but said nothing. When I explained that I too was ‘signing on’ he seemed delighted, told me to keep doing this and recruited me for thirty pounds a week as a general labourer.
Tarmac was where the money was and Elwyn employed a washed up alcoholic ex army captain, whose saving grace was a posh accent, to go door to door in affluent suburbs with the aim of drumming up business. He was known to the six employees of Langdale Contractors as ‘Rubber Gob’ and to add to his other challenges he was a gambling addict who bet on the horses every day.
I never did find out his real name and he left within weeks of me starting. Rubber Gob went on a horrendous bender as a result of another bad day at the bookies, phoned to say that he was sleeping it off, and was never heard of again. The resultant gap in the sales department (!) of the company was filled by me on the basis that I had
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