The Illusion respectability by Edmund Poole

And the sunlight clasps the earth And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What are all these kissings worth If thou kiss not me? Shelly 1792-1822

The Truth, even when whispered, is louder than gunfire. EP

In solitude where we are the least alone, Byron

The Illusion of respectability By Eddie Poole

Feminism

Manhood Feminism destroying our society?

Warning this book is none P.C. compliant. Not for the prudish Some of the names in this book have been changed, to protect the guilty.

The Illusion of respectability

The author Edmund John Poole

All Roads Lead To Rome Misogyny? The life and Times of a simple, Soldier, Taxi Driver, Politician

*Misandry. A â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Hatredâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; of men as a sexually defined group.

My Struggal with spelling By Eddie Poole

This was the original title of my book until someone pointed out that Hitler’s book ‘Mein Kampf’ was ‘My Struggle’ in English. Well my dogs name is not ‘Blondi’ but my first marriage lasted only slightly longer than his did, which was only thirty-six hours.

Foreword: The first casualty of war is always: ‘The TRUTH’ Political correctness is in danger of destroying the viability of our armed forces and services. Men are choosing not to go into teaching. Men, in increasing numbers, are looking abroad for a wife or partner. Hattie Harman was on the way to make it an offence in Britain to have a Penis. (Thank God she was kicked out of Government before she could do any more damage to our society) Women are choosing to bring up children on their own and not allowing the Father to visit or have a say in the raising of their offspring. Women, are allowed, for the good of the children, to ignore court orders, which grant the fathers access to his children. Muslim States look at the way western women, behave and who could blame them for not wishing to embrace our way of life. That is not to condone some of their barbaric practices which any civilised society should condemn. Women have been made to be less attractive to employers because maternity leave, accusations of discrimination and sexism. These problems real or imagined have to be fought costing time and money. Having said that, I do not wish to undermine the skills and qualities women do bring to the work place. However in recent months women’s groups have recognised that employment laws and rights having gone so far as to make women an unattractive proposition to employers and have set about ensuring men’s rights are brought into line with women’s to ensure men become just as unattractive to employers. Two or three years paternity leave perhaps? Women dominate the teaching profession; men understandably are unwilling to put themselves into a situation where an accusation is deemed true unless the man can prove otherwise. My son noticed, whilst attending the ‘University at Winchester’, that at the Teacher Training College the number of men out of five hundred students was less than twenty. For society in general this is a bad thing as some children will never have contact with a male role model either at home or in school. Maybe the pendulum has swung so far it is time to take another look.

This book, is dedicated to all:

‘The Lost Boys and Girls of Broken Britain’ Chapter 1: Battersea Dog’s Home (I didn’t know he’d been away) Nearly sixty battered and bruised by the world I find myself hiding away, in my small flat in Aldershot, deeply depressed contemplating the affair I had with the only woman I ever truly loved and how she has destroyed my life. I can’t help but wonder how did I get to such a low point in my life? Edmund John Poole (me) was born to Barbara and Francis Poole in 1951 in Kidderminster. I was always called John until circumstances forced me to change my name at aged thirteen. I had an older sister called Susan born about a year before me. Barbara, my Mum, was ahead of the *four by four generation, by about fifty years, her third child caused the breakup of her marriage to Frank. For some reason he objected to the child not being his, silly in this day and age, but not then. Apparently, so I’ve read, a high percentage of third children are thus.

*Four kids by four different ‘FATHERS’

As Jack Nicholson said in the film ‘As Good As It Gets’ when asked, by a woman in the film, how did he write the female dialogue so accurately? He said, “I take a man then remove all reason and logic and write”

To this day! We three children were taken into care by social services, and we found ourselves in a home for orphans. Married couples came to stare at us each weekend; I didn’t understand the implications at the tender age of three. Then some couple took Susan, my sister, away and I was only to see her briefly once more to this day.

I’m desperate to find Susan before it’s too late. My mother arrived one day to rescue Mark and I from our warm beds and three squares meals a day as she had married my younger, half-brother’s, father, someone called Hayward. As a result, she secured a council flat, 93 Broad Street Kidderminster. How peculiar in those days the council only gave accommodation to married people, now it seems to be the other way round. I was about four by this time and thought nothing of having to go without food after Hayward had spent all his wages on the gee gees (whatever they were) so from Monday to Thursday we had very little to eat, but hey ho I didn’t think I was that hard done by. During this time, we had several changes of furniture, Mum and Hayward would have all this new stuff delivered and a few months later a bunch of guys, with a van, would arrive and take it all away again. What did a kid care? Hayward had meanwhile taken me to a magical place where they sold bikes. I picked out a little red bike (cost £25.00 a fortune then) and Hayward taught me to ride it. I didn’t care 7

about the lack of food and I didn’t care about the disappearing furniture but the day two men, in suits, stopped me in the street and asked me my name and address, then put my bike into the back of their van. I remember crying my eyes out and being upset for weeks. To this day I can’t pass a bike shop without wishing to buy another bike. I’m not allowed on EBay, if I’ve consumed alcohol. Bikes start to appear at my door a few days later. The years went by and at the age of seven, I’d never been to school; my Mum kept me at home to look after the two younger children, a baby girl had appeared by now. Even to this day, I hate the sound of crying kids as my mother would always blame me when one of the young ones was upset. As a young child myself sometimes I just didn’t know how to occupy them for hours on end whilst my mother entertained her many ‘boy-friends’. Hayward then disappeared from the scene and there were many moonlight flits and vague, memories of men passing through my mother’s life.

Cannondale Rohloff my best bike ever.

Chapter 2: Course I was used to that. 1958 Well the good life couldn’t last. One day there was a knock at the door and a man and a woman had come for, no not the furniture, but for me. In those days it was illegal not to send your children, over five, to school, I was, once again, whisked off to a kid’s home, where people came each, weekend, to stare at us. Well of course, I was used to that! We had our own warm beds and three meals a day and supper before retiring for the night, in the words of the Monty Python sketch, Luxury! During the first few months of returning to a kids home there was no proper school but one of the staff, a young girl, read us stories and let us paint pictures. I think she was about eighteen but she seemed like a grown up to me. Life wasn’t bad until, realising that I was probably not going to find a foster home, the Manager decided I’d better go to a proper school. So I did. What a shock, aged seven, having never been to any sort of formal lessons. Mocked by the other kids, for being a dunce, I could not read write or do simple arithmetic, Children can be cruel but every kid knows that. Free school meals were a mixed blessing as the teacher took the money on Monday mornings but first she would read out a list of those who were entitled to free meals. I sat in the dark and the voice said, “Cheer up things could be worse” So I cheered up and sure enough, things got worse. 9

My luck changed for the worse then as I was ‘fostered out’ to this awful couple. He was a Scot from Liverpool called McIver; she was a fat woman named Millicent, called Millie. There was a character in Coronation Street, in those days, called Ena Sharples and to this day, if I see a clip of Corrie with her in it my heart jumps, not in a good way. Their reason for fostering me was their son Harold had died at aged eight, my age then. I think Harold had died from some form of cancer. Like most people who die, they turn into saints in the memories of those they leave behind, who view them with a selective memory. Harold being their flesh and blood would have made it hard for any child, however perfect to succeed, let alone a kid like me. Harold’s death had left a hole in their life, which today I totally understand but what were the social workers thinking, putting me into such a situation? The McIver’s also had a younger son Philip, he was a good intelligent friendly sort and although two years younger than me was already taller. Well one doesn’t need a degree in psychology to see how that situation was going to pan out. The new school pronounced me dense and hard to teach, Harold of course had been a genius. Mrs McIver never got tired of telling me how useless I was, I could never get anything right. My sur name remained Poole and therefore it was obvious to any onlooker that I was not really part of their family and this needed an explanation on many occasions. 10

Chapter 3: I became a ‘Hooligan’ 1962 Well of course I became a little hooligan sneaking out at night, using McIver’s bike to get around. (They wouldn’t let me have a bike of my own) My favourite pass time was burglary, a good way to get into trouble. Sunday we all went to morning service at a Methodist Chapel in Brierley Hill and then attended Sunday school in the afternoon. I remember the Minister telling us that it is “better to give than to receive”, what a burke! I thought, but of course, he was right. I don’t know why, but I get a warm glow from giving presents, time or attention to others.

Brierley Hill is a place near Dudley in the West Midlands. I tried to fit in at school but always felt on the outside looking in.

What we perceive we did not receive as a child. Most seek, for the rest of their lives. My home life got even worse, when Millie had a baby girl of her own. After the eleven plus I was enrolled into Mill Street Secondary Modern School, where I remember running home, fast, to arrive at the same time as the bus I should have been on, then I could spend my bus money on sweets. My nocturnal activities caught the attention of the local Police who after a bit of a chase on one or two nights apprehended me. I was a stubborn little so and so and wouldn’t cooperate and they slapped me around a little and as I didn’t know any swear words I just sat there which seemed to really annoy them. I eventually told the Police where I lived and McIver came and got me. 11

I remember him telling the Police not to worry as he was sending me back to the kids’ home the next day. We didn’t walk back together and I loathe the McIver’s to this day although I would like to think Philip would have done well for himself and I wish him well.

My luck changed for the better that day, when I meet a lovely social worker called Mr Hamersley he collected me from the McIver’s house and for the first time I knew what it was like to be spoken to by someone who cared. Mr Hamersley dropped me off at a Remand home, for wayward boys, in the village of Welland near Malvern. It wasn’t too bad but it was run by a pervert whose usual M.O. was to leave chocolate bars under the ‘chosen boys’ pillow and then pay him a visit during the night. I’ll just say that even to this day I can’t bear men to have physical contact with me or invade my personal space. At my Local pub, ‘The Running Stream’ there’s a nice old boy who stands very close to me, he can’t understand why it drives me crazy and I can hardly explain.

I was assessed and judged to be fairly normal and I was transferred to a much nicer home near the City of Worcester. Lower Wick was probably a very nice country House for the landed Gentry in the old days but now it was a home for orphans. Next door to the home was a school for the disabled and I remembered looking through the fence with a mixture of curiosity and compassion. I had a feeling that life seemed to be tough for so many. 12

Chapter 4: Another New School 1964 Well new schools were not new to me and I soon got to the bottom of things, they seemed to be posh in Worcester. I spoke with a broad Birmingham accent, at this time, (I lost my Birmingham accent after going to Malvern) which made me different from the other kids and when they learned where I lived; their young noses were raised in disdain. Also living in the home was a fifteen-year-old girl who had been ‘on the game’. I had no idea what that was but it didn’t seem fair for her to be put in a ‘home’ for playing a game. She wasn’t allowed out of the ‘home’ but she seemed to be a misfit like me and we got on well. She was very kind and took the time to explain the facts of life (I realised why McIver was always in a bad mood) and what being on the game meant. In those days, the facts of life were pretty much hidden from us kids until well into our teens. Now of course kids of very few years seem to know all about sex. Men were taken to court for living off immoral earnings, “that’s men living off women’s earnings,” she told me.

I was, perplexed, women lived off men’s earning, didn’t they?

Chapter 5: That was a ‘No Brainer! Well as I said earlier, Mr Hamersley was a real gentle man and he took me to his home at weekends, where I had my first view of the Malvern Hills. He and his wife would make me welcome and I’d help him in his garden where he bred dogs, I think they were Norfolk Terriers. The best was yet to come. He had friends in West Malvern whose eldest son had just got married, leaving a bedroom free. I was informed; I could visit at the weekends to see if they liked me. However, I was warned the lady of the house, hankered after a daughter having had three sons. Well four or five weekends later, Dora asked if I wished to live there permanently. Of course, that was a no brainer, which was lucky in all senses of the phrase. My own room, all to myself, this novelty took some getting used to, having never before having my own bedroom. Dora was a marvellous cook and those Sunday lunches were fantastic, great food, great company with stimulating conversation. After lunch, a walk on the, beautiful, Malvern Hills with a visit to Paul and Anne’s bungalow to look forward to. They were the best days of my life, and I’ve had many good times since, as you will see if you read on. God I still miss Dora.

I moved into Paul’s recently vacated bedroom.

Paul and Anne. The man on her left is her dad a, nice man, Mr Mooney he taught me to play chess.

Paul, the eldest son, who had just got married to a, gorgeous, woman called Anne, Paul was a mental health worker and Anne a P.T. Teacher at a large comprehensive school. The two of them lived in a little bungalow, which had the Honor of being the highest home in Malvern and therefore the whole of Worcester. The two of them, in spite of being intelligent and having well paid jobs and from good homes, were very left wing. He believed the poor should be given everything their heart desires and Anne, in spite of being a P.T. teacher, and very good at sports, didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t believe in competition. Even though I was in awe of this couple, their politics seemed to fly in the face of basic economics and human nature. In those days I was very â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Aâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; political and of course worshipped this couple who seemed to have it all. 15

Gordon Brown would have approved of them, as they both worked for the state. Clearly Gordon Brown believed if he could get everyone working for the state he would end ’BOOM & BUST’ for good, I think the Greeks had a similar idea, I wonder how that’s working out? I may not have a degree in economics but I can see the flaw in this plan. If everyone, is working for the state or being paid by the state, not to work. Oh I see! The immigrants will do all the work, Good Plan G.B.

I don’t think Blair believed in anything. As a Tory voter, I wasn’t too disappointed when in 1997 Blair moved into Downing Street. After all, he seemed to be saying the right things and perhaps he did mean well. Delivery was a bit of a problem for his government and then the Bernie Ecclestone incident showed him in his true light. I think another problem was listening to that oily creature Mandelson who orchestrated gerrymandering on a scale never seen before. Blair’s Chief Spin Doctor, Alistair Campbell, look up the word mendacity in any dictionary and you’ll see his name as an example. Lord Prescott, No I still don’t believe it either, was responsible for this country building hundreds, if not, thousands of housing developments with very little parking. This has and will continue to cause misery for those who live in them for the next hundred years. When I became a local councillor, most of the complaints I received were to do with parking, which of course I could do very little. Blair and his team could have done so much good for Britain,

Sadly, for Britain, they chose another path. 16

Dora bred Siamese cats and they all have amazing personalities

Chapter 6: Dora, thought herself equal to any man. The woman of the house was Dora, a bright intelligent and very right wing. Dora was a somewhat frustrated homemaker capable, of much more in life, she was a freethinking open minded. Dora was equal, to any man, without the nauseating (Misandry) man hating feminist agenda, which stokes the fires of misogyny in today’s society. Dora and I spent hours chatting in ‘the wing’ an extension put on the house, which was her domain. I could talk to Dora about anything I liked, there were no subjects off limits and I learnt much from her. The feminists like to say we men don’t like intelligent women, as a general rule that may be true but Dora taught me to like intelligent women who have interests outside the very narrow band which seem to dominate the press and women’s magazines of today. I Still Miss Dora to this day;

She was the closest I ever came to having a Mum. 17

Large house in the centre is the ‘Gables’ the home of the Griffith family. You can see the ‘Wing’ the single story extension, in shadow, on the left.

Paul Griffith was called ‘Griffy’ as not to be confused with his eldest son, the man of the house, he was one of life’s gentlemen. I was so different from his sons, he didn’t really know what to make of me but we got on great as I did with Peter and John his two other sons. Griffy was a real gent but some years later he was appalled with me when I brought a girlfriend home, from Catterick, who will remain nameless (Marie Ellis). Dora had made up the couch for me, but of course, as soon as the coast was clear I went upstairs. Griffy would have been none the wiser if he wasn’t such a nice guy. He took her a cup of tea in the morning, where he discovered me in bed with Marie. Dora had her work cut out to calm things down; as usual, I was in disgrace.

Clearly, Sex was a big deal. 18

Changing my name. As I said earlier to this point in my life I’d been called John but the youngest son, a few years older than me, was also known as John and as the new comer I must be the one to change. Dora suggested Eddie, so Eddie I became, although I felt a bit of a schizo at my new school as I introduced myself to some as John and some as Eddie. Over the years, John disappeared altogether and I’m sure if someone in the street shouted ‘John’ today I wouldn’t even turn my head. Dora soon organised an old bike from a friend’s farm down the road and with new tyres and brakes I was off and running. An average day was: Get up at six a.m. No lights No heating. First I’d do a paper round, get back to house, change for school, have breakfast and cycle to school (five miles downhill), 4.30 p.m. cycle home (five miles uphill). After tea cycle two miles to sports ground, play football or play in park, then cycle home. In the winter, I used to cycle to the Village Hall, listen to music, and play “Table Tennis.” This daily itinerary would put most of the young people, of today, in bed for a week to recover. On one occasion, going down ‘The Pitch’ (a short sharp hill in West Malvern) I went over the handlebars of my bike. The right side of my face was a mess and very painful, we call it ‘gravel rash’. Dora gave a short sharp scream on seeing me walk into the wing, Dora, a trained nurse, cleaned it up and the next morning I went off to school as usual. At ten o’clock I was sent for by the headmaster, Mr Garth (the name suited him) “Poole you go home” he said, “you’re frightening the other kids”. So I did. 19

One problem, to avoid waking John in the next bedroom, (we had a very thin wall) I had to silence my loud alarm clock ASAP or John was annoyed with me. I still hate the sound of bells and suffer from a ‘PAVLOVIAN RESPONSE’ to them to this day. No, I didn’t know this term either but some of the smart-arses down the Pub told me about it. Pavlovian Response is a learned reaction to stimuli usually applied to animals. An example would be ring a bell and the cows learn to make their own way to the milking Parlour. All this means, is I can’t stand the sound of bells to this day!

Why didn’t you just say so you idiot? I hear you, Sorry.

This is Peter standing next to John’s car. Peter’s car in the background is a ‘Viva’ Dora taught me to drive in it. The car in foreground is a Morgan sports car, which are made in Malvern. John sold the car and it went off to America. The ‘Pitch’ is the sharp hill you can just see the top of. I came off my bike going down it one night. 20

Griffy and Anne (she is going to put the hat on EBay) Dora bred Siamese cats and she was very protective of them as I found to my cost one night when I accidently let one out. She used to go to the local shop with a cat on a lead.

Chapter 7: “You’re from Worcester” 1967 Fifteen loomed up so quick and in those days, we left school at that age or took ‘O’ levels. Then ‘O’ levels wos hard, so I became a ‘Trainee Manager’ at the Great Malvern Winter Gardens. The first day, my work consisted of washing up and making sandwiches. That weekend I walked into the Army Recruiting Office in Worcester where as soon as the Sergeant looked at my address he said, “You come from Worcester so you’ll go in the Worcester Regiment” So I did. 21

At fifteen plus a few months being somewhat less than tall, the Army was a daunting prospect and after four days, I found myself on the phone to Dora saying things like “Please can I come home now?” “No” she said, “give the army a chance!” Well I gave it a chance and I stayed for,

Twenty-five years. In those days, bullying was part of the process of seeing if you would be an asset under fire or a liability. Some of the guys who were clearly not up to Army Life were given a hard time and quickly left or were shown the door. Not being very big didn’t stop me from ‘having attitude’ and the second day I went to lunch where a cook (A.C.C.) slapped mashed potatoes on to my plate, I put the plate down and stormed off. The duty Officer, a young Lieutenant, grabbed me and asked me what was the matter, “I’ll get my own spuds” I said “or I won’t have any.” Instead of putting me in the Guard Room, he organised that we all took our own potatoes the next day. My first political demo and a success. I don’t know if anyone will believe this but whilst on leave I mentioned to Dora that we occasionally got mushrooms on toast for breakfast and Dora produced ‘Mushrooms on Toast’ for my, breakfast the next day I quickly removed the ‘Heads’ from the toast and put them on the side of the plate. Seeing what I was, doing Dora asked, “What are you doing they’re the best bit?” “You can’t eat them, they’re poisonous” I replied. After a few questions, I told her that we only got the stalks in our dining room as the cooks had told us we weren’t given the heads off the mushrooms because they were poisonous. Dora surmised wrongly or rightly that the cooks gave the heads to another mess.

Chapter 8: I’ll punch anyone who says I’m aggressive! Boxing was not a sport that interested me, except for watching the great Mohammed Ali on TV occasionally, but that didn’t stop me from being picked for the unit boxing team. We were up at six each morning running and doing the whole ‘Rocky Thing’. We were going to fight the Junior Paratroopers, so rumour had it, as the date for the match drew near, anticipation and dread, in equal amounts filled the team. I was boxing in the under nine and a half stone class; I don’t know what that equates to in proper boxing. The day came and I found myself in a huge ring with someone who looked very handy. My opponent was weaving about, jabbing and dancing about looking the part. He had me very scared but the whole regiment were watching, the phrase, If I’d been a bit braver, I would have been a coward, comes to mind and I would have been miles away. The man from the junior Paras weaved, jabbed, and then landed a punch hard right on the nose, which hurt like hell. A red mist descended and the next thing I knew the referee had me in a headlock telling me to go back to my corner. My opponent was down on one knee looking very sorry for himself.

Well I ‘coulda’ have been a contender. No Not Really.

Sex had been a few fumbles in a tent, in a nice spot on the Malvern Hills (The Sugar Loaf) with Sally, over in a few short seconds. This unsatisfactory encounter in the hills did nothing to diminish my enthusiasm for this new experience and whilst waiting to go to Rhyl, a naïve officer organised a disco for the junior leaders and invited the local girls. Well that night I‘ll just say that two fifteen year olds made use of the brand new guard room, which had not yet been handed over to the Army. May I say ‘thank you’ to the builders for leaving the heating on in Whittington Barrack’s new guardroom. I can’t remember her name but I was very grateful to her, when the next day we were all lined up. The girl and her very irate Daddy, walked up and down the line of boys trying to identify the culprit, she looked straight at me but didn’t point me out. Thank you XXXX

The next week I was off to Rhyl and celibacy.

Me aged fifteen at Rhyl Yes’ I was full of it. 24

Chapter 8: The Seaside, how great was that? Luckily, the Army didn’t test reading and writing, they did what I think was a ‘psychometric test’ which measured your intelligence and to my surprise they said I was above average. I was to learn in later years, just how low the average was. Because of the test, I was ‘shunted’, off to Rhyl to learn a trade. Pity none of us young soldiers were allowed out of camp, so I was stuck in a camp with eight hundred young men. We did education and learned to be soldiers, I was very fit from my home life and became a good shot learned to iron, all that ‘army bull’ came easily to me. I discovered Squash at Rhyl but only because the day we all had to choose a sport, it was lashing down with rain, squash was the only sport that was played indoors, so squash it was. Playing squash has given me many friends and as also kept me fairly fit over the years.

Education, Education, Education, Was the order of the day but the difference was the army meant it. Taught English, physics, biology, maths and history. Given twenty words a night to learn to spell and tested on them the next day. We learned that being British was a good thing, overall unlike the B.B.C. who teach us we should be ashamed of expressing pride in Britain. The BBC, regularly transmit a stream of socialist propaganda by sneering left wing comedians; this is dressed up as satire. Of all my taxes, I hate the licence fee the most; they seem to hate the people of middle England. Me!

I was to become a driver, radio operator but reporting for training was told, I was too young at fifteen to commence driver training. Then you were required to be 16 to drive a vehicle on army land, so I was sent to do a medical course. The ‘Medical Wing’ was an oasis of calm organised by a friendly Warrant Officer and he was a good instructor. Because of his tutoring, I did well in our mock medical exams. He called me into the office and said, “you’re just the sort of young chap we could do with in the R.A.M.C.” (Medical Corps) I was honoured to be asked and put in my transfer papers. Before the real exams was duly transferred.

I became a Medic for the next twenty odd years. At Rhyl we didn’t have televisions everywhere, like we do today but there was one place where, if the right guy was on duty, one would be welcome. In the Medical Centre, not only did we watch TV, he would allow you to make an ‘egg banjo’ and a cup of coffee. This man’s simple kindness probably influenced my decision to transfer.

After a few months, we were informed that Kimmel Park, the name of our barracks, was to be closed and the first department to be moved was us, ‘The Medical Wing’. We Junior Trades Men were to be moved to Ash Vale near Aldershot. The camp was called, Keogh Barracks. We were to become part of the R.A.M.C. Apprentice College. Before bulldozing Kimmel Park they put in new central heating and decorated the accommodation. 26

Chapter 9: R.A.M.C. Apprentice College 1968/69 We arrived at Keogh Barracks, near Aldershot, and were amazed. These pansies didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even have a gun issued to them, we kept our rifles in our lockers at Rhyl. At keogh the junior corporals/sergeants wore red strips on their arms, like girls! Female soldiers wore red strips in those days and the men wore white. Well Junior Trades Men and Army Apprentices were chalk and cheese and I remember a little friction between the two groups, we were quite rightly:

Proud of Rhyl. Me, showing off a bit of leg, with my mates at Rhyl

In the barrack, room at Rhyl there would be sixteen of us, all different regiments and from different parts of the country. With no TVs, we read books played cards, chess or talked and we were surprisingly happy.

Benny Hill, also from Rhyl, and me at Keogh we had some good times?

The Apprentices did a bit of drill and P.T. but the rest of the time did Education and to top it all their regular Sergeant major was in the guardroom for being ‘gay’. Apparently being gay and seducing young men was a military offence then, now of course it’s becoming mandatory. When his Court Marshal was reported in the Telegraph Dora, who knew about that ‘bastard at Welland’, was not happy and came near to fetching me back to Malvern. Dora’s fears were laid to rest when she phoned the Admin Officer who assured her that WO1 Raze was a ‘one off’ and that I would be quite safe.

And I was. 28

Chapter 10: Aldershot The move to Aldershot was a good thing for me. I didn’t think so at the time as we were treated like poor relations but the paradox was that we thought we were superior soldiers to them, we were! But of course that was to miss the point of the Medical Corps. The forced education continued and I got some ‘O levels. I remember reading some years later in the press that Glinis Kinnock said of pupils “just surround them with books and they’ll learn to read by osmosis” Well if that is the current practice it’s no wonder boys are not doing well in our schools. I know, given a choice, I would have been doing anything but studying, lucky for me there was no choice and I did well considering my background. During this time we were not allowed out and there were no distractions (girls) and I did all the ‘Boys Own Stuff’, became a good swimmer thrashed the staff at squash, played chess, learned to sail a dinghy and played football, cricket, hockey and rugby. In short Life was good! What worries me today, in Britain 2011 is that there must be thousands of young people out there damaged, like me, by the breakdown of the family. They are not going to have the luck to choose a path, which can undo some of the harm done to them. I’ve been told that the most important thing to any child is to feel ‘Wanted’. The best thing that ever happened to me was when that man & woman turned up at my mother’s flat and took me into care. 29

It seems like a blur now but Rhyl and Keogh Barracks were a healing process and soon I was seventeen and a half and it was time to join ‘man’s service’ we had a huge increase in pay from three guineas a week to six for me. I’d signed up for six years, the guys who had signed for nine years, got nine pounds a week, I was straight down the office to sign on the dotted line. Successive Labour Governments have always claimed that they gave the Armed Forces the biggest pay rise in its history and in about 1970 they did! But there was a catch! We got our basic pay of about nine pounds a week and as the Socialists say they gave us a huge pay rise up to about fifteen pounds a week, but at that time we did not pay for our food or accommodation but after the pay increase we did. The new food and accommodation charges amounted to about six pounds a week and of course we paid Tax on the whole of the fifteen pounds, this ensured we were all slightly worse off.

Blair and Brown learned a lot from this trick and used smoke and mirrors all through those ‘long’ thirteen years the socialists were in power.“We won’t put up income tax,” they said! So they set about applying 66 stealth taxes. They were aided and abetted by the left wing school teachers who made exams easier to boost the pass rate. Blair then called all the Polytechnics and some Colleges Universities; this had the effect of doubling the number going to University overnight. They betrayed a whole generation of young people. They conned the British people and perhaps did more long term economic damage to this Country than all the previous Labour governments put together. That is going some! 30

Chapter 11: I lead the way and didn’t ask directions Five mates and I, were posted to Catterick to do nurse training. I didn’t feel that I had a calling but I knew that the British Military Hospital was full of women and that’s where I wanted to be. In those, days when posted, or going on leave soldiers wore their best uniform to travel. This was called number two dress, 1969 was before Northern Ireland made it a security issue to travel in uniform. Because of the ‘troubles’ we were all allowed to travel in civvies after about 1970. We were full of it! And didn’t care about the traffic jams we caused.

The six of us arrived at Waterloo Station, in our best dress, with loads of luggage. Being unfamiliar with the underground, we borrowed/stole a heavy wooden trolley from Waterloo Station, and we put our suitcases and kit bags on it and proceeded to walk pulling the trolley, to Kings Cross. We caused mayhem with the traffic but we were full of it and we didn’t care. I wonder what the workers at Kings Cross thought when a heavy hand trolley, with Waterloo Station painted on it, appeared at Kings Cross. My first test of leadership. True to form, being a man, I didn’t ask directions, but we made it to Kings Cross and caught the train to Darlington. Getting pissed on the train was a way of celebrating our passage into manhood. On arrival at Darlington, a mini bus was there to meet us for the onward journey to Catterick Garrison and ‘7 Company Lines’ the accommodation for the Military Hospital. Our accommodation had only four men per room. Luxury! 31

Chapter 12: The ‘Clap’ Clinic, It will never happen to us will it? We had our welcome interviews with the Officer Commanding and the Nurse Tutor. I was told I had to wait six weeks before going into the training wing and being too young to work on the wards (one had to be eighteen) I was sent to help in the S.T.C. department (The ‘Clap Clinic’ as it was known unofficially) What a shock the special treatment clinic was to a young man. I worked alongside an old Corporal who’d seen it all. After six weeks I should have been put off sex for good but don’t we all have the capacity to delude ourselves? On a sad, note the old corporal who ran the clinic, was also the unit post None Commissioned Officer. One day, right outside the hospital reception, much to our amusement, he fell off his bike, we all laughed but when he didn’t move our laughter turned to concern, It turned out ‘poor old Ginger’ had a heart attack and died. The saying: - ‘As funny as a heart attack’ brings back that sad memory.

On a lighter note I remember the whole Hospital Staff having a good laugh at the expense of a young soldier who whilst giving his army girlfriend, what was called a, ‘knee trembler’ (Having sex against the wall to the uninitiated). His girlfriend co-operated with this delicate procedure by pulling her army knickers to the side, issued knickers had fiercely strong elastic in those days. At the ‘critical moment’, she got carried away with passion and she let go! Doing him ‘a right mishap’. I’m pleased to report no lasting physical harm was done to the young man but I can’t vouch for his mental health. Back then, we didn’t receive counselling every time we suffered a setback.

Well we don’t give it away! 32

At that time, I was still being kicked out of pubs, because I looked so young, this continued to happen until I was about twenty four. So when I walked into a pub, on my own, in Richmond Yorkshire it was with trepidation I approached the bar. The man looked like him off ‘Hi de Hi’ (Paul Shane) “Do you sell lager?” I asked. He looked at me with all the contempt older people reserve for the young “well we don’t give it away” With, this statement of the obvious he destroyed what little confidence I had.

Quick kids hurry up and leave home while you still know everything, we all do don’t we?

Chapter 13: Keep away from Poole & Macfarlane 1969 Six weeks soon went by and there we were sitting in the nurse-training wing, three young men and twenty young ladies. The female major warned the girls, on day one, keep away from Poole and my mate Macfarlane. What a break, the girls were interested in us straight away and nature took its course. Mac & I worked our way through all the attractive girls, and some who weren’t, in our block. Every few months a new bunch arrived. After three years in all-male establishments, we were in heaven and every night was party night. I can never hear the record ‘A Song for Whoever’ without thinking of those carefree days and nights in Catterick. I got to know the girl’s accommodation better than my own. The girls had single rooms, which was very convenient. I met a lot of girls and loved each one until I met the next one. A sign of the change in our culture, the girls, when you left their rooms in the early hours, would swear you to silence, now they would be selling the secrets to the media. There must have been twenty or thirty girls a year but who was counting? Funny I never had a weight problem in those days. As I said earlier, ‘youth is wasted on the young’ but I wouldn’t have missed those days but of course it couldn’t last. And it didn’t.

Chapter 14:

When a man is single, he is incomplete. But when he’s married he’s finished.

All was well until I meet ‘Wendy’ she was a gorgeous blonde-haired woman, I was smitten, and she did not look like Anne, Paul’s wife at all, HONEST. I lost perspective and all I knew was ‘she was the one’. We planned our escape and we got married aged just twenty, how stupid was that?

I was finished, kicked off the wards. To this day, I don’t know what our crime was. I was only a few weeks away from my final nursing exams. I was sent to Northern Ireland by a huffy old Matron, it is always the man’s fault, apparently. The marriage was quickly annulled, I was given a piece of paper to sign and that was that. I still wonder if we could have made a go of it, if left alone. I know it was only infatuation and we were much too young, it may have grown into love, but they never gave us a chance.

I can’t live if living is without you (1971) Bally Kelly in Northern Ireland, was a reality check and I got back to being a soldier and life wasn’t too bad but I was a bit miserable and missed Wendy a lot. I remember the top tune of the time was Nielson ‘I can’t live if living is without you.’ All these years later, I still think of Wendy when I hear that song. Melancholy has always been the path of least resistance for me.

Chapter 15: The ‘Green Jackets’ Bally Kelly 1971 The Green jackets were a good Regiment and I enjoyed serving with them. However, nothing ever runs too smooth when Eddie Poole is around. A shortage of manpower forced our Sergeant to agree for us medics to help with guard duty. We were not impressed as we did duty medic every other night to look after the inpatients. I was duly dispatched to the guardroom to stand guard outside the main gates. On arrival I expressed a keen desire to do my bit which confused the Guard Commander. He asked me “What sort of weapon are you familiar with?” “S.M.G.” I replied, a small machine gun, very dangerous in the wrong hands, and mine were the wrong hands. Taking the weapon from him I placed the magazine on the weapon cocked it and asked, “When am I allowed to shoot people?” with a look of relish on my face. His face froze in terror and he realised he’d given a machine gun to a ‘deranged nutter’, to give me the full medical diagnosis. He approached me slowly and gently took the gun from my willing hands removed the magazine and eased springs. “I think you’d better go back to the Medical Centre” he said, I did my best to look disappointed.

The medical staff for some reason never got asked to stand guard again. ‘Mission Accomplished’ 36

On leave, posing in my best dress, with my first new car a ‘K’ reg.

I was always ‘rich’ because I did an Ice Cream round each night after work for which I was paid, three quid a night in cash and five pounds on weekends (double round). However, something always goes wrong. I, being the ‘fastest ice cream man in Catterick’ came to a noisy end when I filled the van up with diesel instead of petrol. Lucky I could run fast which saved me from a beating. My first new car, the yellow line on number plate means a ‘Tax free car’

My then girlfriend, Cecilia said she preferred my old minivan with the army mattress in the back. Women? You just can’t win! 37

Chapter 16: What a DUMP! Being fit, I got sent to a place near Belfast to work with the Paras and R.U.C. (Police) at Palace Barracks in a place called Hollywood. Sounds great but what a dump, I was working with the ‘snatch squad’ (quite appropriate for me, but sadly, it wasn’t a euphemism) The doctor and I went out early in the mornings to provide medical cover for the Paras. I drove the Army Ambulance and was required to carry an automatic pistol for protection. The Paras and R.U.C. went out at first light to arrest members of the I.R.A. and bring them back to the barracks for questioning. It was policy to examine those arrested on arrival and again before being released, to ensure they had sustained no injuries whilst in custody. Things were drifting along O.K. until the Medical Officer with whom I worked, came to my room one afternoon, with his ironing and informed me “I’ll be back in twenty minutes”. Sure enough twenty minutes later he walked in and seemed angry when the ironing was still where he had left it. “You haven’t ironed these” he waved his civvie shirts at me “I ain’t done it and I’m not going to” I informed him, “right then” he said and went off. Idiot and worse passed through my mind. Then a Looney Regimental Policeman arrived, shouting like a banshee, he took me off to the guardroom and placed me under close arrest. I was given a hard time by the sergeant in charge because of the ‘pistol thing’ and the seriousness of the charge I was told by the nasty bald Sergeant. “Wilful 38

disobedience to a direct order in war you can be shot” (Apparently in war you can still be shot for committing this offence). But, I don’t know for sure.

“Do you want me to ‘Keep’ my Pistol?” I asked waving my gun at the nasty bald guy. He was far from impressed with me when, on my arrival, I’d been thrown into a cell and given army coveralls to change into. I handed over my civilian clothes and I cheekily produced my loaded automatic and asked him if he wanted me to keep it? (His face went very red). The nasty Sergeant’s favourite trick was to hold his lit cigar close to your face until you pleaded, but I was made of sterner stuff than to be intimidated by that. Each morning we did punishment exercise at 0530hrs, which required us to carry a heavy brass fire hydrant behind our neck. Luckily, I was very fit and had no trouble but one guy started crying each morning, poor sod! While the Guardroom staff concentrated on shouting at him and questioning his man-hood, we took a breather. There was in the guardroom, three men, who had robbed a local post office, using army transport and weapons. They would have got away with it, but apparently, they were spending money like water in the unit bar, which aroused suspicion. These armed robbers seem nice guys to me and in the ten days I was in the Paras jail they taught me to play cards. 39

Many years later, I read that Costas Georgia, one of three armed robbers I’d meet in jail, went off to be a Mercenary in Angola where he changed his name to Colonel Callan. It was in the news that the Military Government in Angola executed him after a Court Martial. So rumour has it, when the Government troops were closing in on him, he was caught eating fish powder from the French ration packs. In French powdered fish is called ‘Poisson’. I think this had caused him to think it was poison.

“Get him out of here!” He balled After ten days my unit ‘The Green Jackets’ came up from Bally Kelly to spring me out of the Para’s jail and put me in theirs. The next morning I was marched in front of the Green Jacket’s Commanding Officer, He listened to my story and he went into apoplexy “Get him out of here Sergeant Major” he bawled. The words of the nasty bald Sergeant came flooding back and I thought;

‘Fuck’ they’re going to shoot me! In fact, I was sent back to my cosy medical centre and resumed my normal duties. Apparently the doctor was given an interview, ‘without coffee’, an army euphemism for a right good bollocking, by the then boss in Northern Ireland. The doctor and I met a few years later and we both pretended not to know each other. 40

Chapter 17: Hohne socially was the pits! 1972 Six months in Northern Ireland passed slowly and then I was posted to *B.A.O.R or West Germany to you civvies. Hohne was the pits, thousands of blokes with nothing to do with their time off but drink and go to the pictures once a week. When I first got to Hohne an old girlfriend came over to see me, a lovely girl called Sue, she was a good and loyal friend and her claim to fame was she could put her feet over her shoulders from the back. I was too young to see the possibilities of this trick then. Sue stayed in Germany until her folks insisted she return to England. I hope she has had a good life. The awful place Belsen was just up the road and of course, the obligatory visit took place. I will never forget my visit to Belsen. The many mounds of earth with a sign saying how many thousands of bodies had been buried in each one. There was a huge wall with “May God Forgive Them” written in many different languages (I don’t think he will). On the wall in white paint someone had written “We Germans Will Never Forgive Those Germans” Well said! I thought and I believe it was policy to leave that graffiti on the wall. I still don’t like to see films like Schindler’s List.

*B.A.O.R. British Army of the Rhine. 41

Chapter 18: A Great Hairy Armpit I made a good friend in sunny Hohne called Dickey. We became firm friends and we were out each night, on our pushbikes, getting into mischief, although when on duty he took life serious and was destined to go far. I remember one night Dickey and I were out on our usual night out, I can’t remember much about the disco but I awoke in a strange room and on looking over my shoulder saw a great hairy arm pit. My blood ran cold and I contemplated chewing off my own arm to escape, but I need not have worried, the armpit belonged to a very pleasant German girl who cooked me a nice breakfast (Frühstück) and I was back in camp before any one missed me. Dickey and I went on a Medical Cover together at the Veser Yacht Club. Dickey could drive but didn’t have a licence so I drove the army ambulance, which I am ashamed to say didn’t stop Dickey and I getting totally pissed in the town one night. Dickey decided to drive home and I was too pissed to care. We went through the town and all the way back to the Club on the wrong side of the road, Dickey had only driven in the U.K. Just to cap it all, when he parked the ambulance I said, “Don’t forget to switch the lights off.” Dickey said in the logic of the totally pissed “Where’s the light switch?” We had driven back through the town in the dark on the wrong side of the road with no lights whilst being totally pissed. Alan Cherry would have been proud. Sorry, a Keogh in-joke. 42

L ook No Belly! Aged twenty–two. 1973

Hohne did have two nice swimming pools built for the ‘Third Reich’

My mate Dickey went off and got married to a German girl; Dickey spoke very good German, which was a great advantage when chatting up the local girls. I bought a tax-free car and started going up to the British Military Hospital in Hannover. There I meet Sue M. a lovely girl and we were very keen on each other and I remembered going into the city of Hannover and buying her an engagement ring (six hundred Marks it was a month’s wage for me) but when we parted I said she could keep the ring.

I was a nice guy in those days. Why do we call men’s swimming attire, ‘trunks’? Answer page double ‘5’

Chapter 19: I learned to listen. During my time at 28 Field Ambulance in Hohne each member had to do a month on the unit bar. This was great ‘skive’ but although very efficient, I found myself very unpopular, as the unit barman. This was because I had yet to learn that it’s better to be a good bloke than be obsessed with being efficient. The customers are not unduly concerned with how clean the bar is, and to empty the ashtrays too often is annoying. What blokes really want in a barman is for him to be quick to get their drink but above all, they needed a relaxed ambiance and a chat. I quickly learned to calm down, listen and became willing to chat about their troubles. I must have learned quickly, because at the end of my month on the unit bar I offered the job of running sergeant’s mess bar. What a great number. No boring army duties an undemanding job and I could wear my hair a little longer. Living in the mess was the unit R.S.M. (Sergeant Major) Dick Todd, on his last tour of duty. He was pretty ‘laid back’. The mess was very quiet and the R.S.M. being a social sort would wander down from his room to chat to me at the mess bar, a captive audience. We became friends and he taught me to play snooker. The mess, like most ‘Messes’, had a full size snooker table. Some of the senior members of the mess resented me because although I always tried to remember my place, he would call me Eddie in front of the other members.

I was to learn jealousy is a very powerful emotion. 44

Chapter 20: The team would lynch me My unit, 28 Field Ambulance, had a very strong ‘Tug of War’ team and of course me being up for any sport I joined the team. Being fairly light but very strong and willing to endure pain made me an excellent choice, though I say so myself. Tug of war is not a sport for wimps and is probably the hardest sport I ever took part in. To be successful at even a modest level one must be willing to endure constant pain for up to twenty minutes; No Ladies I don’t want to hear your stories about child birth or find out what an ‘Episiotomy’ is. Don’t go there girls, there’s a lot to be said, from a blokes point of view for the ’To posh top push mums’.

The Unit ‘Tug of War’ team won the Army Medical Service’s Championships in Germany, which was quite an achievement as this sport is taken very seriously by the Medical Corps. Having a car, I was tasked by the team with taking the nine trophies to a local jeweller to have each of our names engraved on them. I handed over the nine trophies and a list of nine names. My German was basic but ‘Hello! Nine trophies and nine names’ how hard could it be? A week later, I called in to the shop to collect the trophies. Shit! All nine trophies had my name on. The team would lynch me. After a lot of shouting, today I’m the only member of the team who does not have a little brass plate covering my name. Peel the brass plate off guys and you’ll see, L/Cpl Poole underneath. German efficiency? Not that time! 45

Chapter21: In Hohne, I also witnessed reverse racism; I was pretty much ‘colour’ blind in those days, as many of my friends were black. Resentment was caused, amongst us whites, when one black guy claimed it was ‘Racist’ for black men to be asked to empty the unit bins. An essential but odious task, which needed to be carried out, each working day. Therefore, from that day on, only the whites did the bins.

It reminds you of Britain today where’ it seems’ only white people can be racist. Princess Anne: Who could miss that ‘Smile?’ After two years in Hohne, the only respite was a tour of Northern Ireland, for four months. After two years I had enough of being in the middle of nowhere with thousands of blokes however there was one break in the boredom. Princess Anne visited Hohne on a regular basis, to visit, her soon to be first Husband, Mark Philips (Known as Foggy behind his back). She would turn up, in his open top B.M.W. with sunglasses and a headscarf but there was no missing those teeth, we would all go out of our way to salute her, as you could tell by her demeanour, it really pissed her off. Well it was time to move on and I applied for a posting anywhere in the London area. The army of course took no notice of where I wanted to go and sent me to B.M.H. Rinteln.

I thought I’d and gone to heaven. 46

‘The ‘Clippie’ the hill which overlooks Rinteln Hospital.

Chapter 22: How Many? 1974/1977 Rinteln hospital is near a small village near Minden in West Germany with no troops close by but that wasn’t the best bit. In Rinteln, there were one hundred and fifteen single female student nurses living in and only nine men. Two of those nine guys turned out to be gay and there was another two who were completely useless with women. I made two more friends there. Lennie Davis and Geordie Curtin both completely different characters, and although they were not friends with each other, I enjoyed either’s company equally. Geordie and I had this con going, Geordie would tell visiting squaddies that the little guy, pointing at me, was useless at squash but thought he was good and would play anyone for money. As I was staggering around the bar by this time, Geordie had no problem convincing them I was ‘easy meat’. Geordie and I worked this ‘con’ and we won many a free pint. A perfect team. 47

In the valley of the blind, the one eyed man is KING. Most days I was happy to wine and dine one girl, two was not unusual, but on one occasion because of the shift system, it was possible to sleep with three different girls in one day. Let me explain, the ‘girlfriend’ is on night-duty and finishes work at 0730 hours. Have breakfast with the girlfriend and entertain her in your room for an hour or so and then she would disappear to the nurse’s quarters for her beauty sleep. At 1700hrs have tea with said girlfriend and perhaps have a passionate interlude before you kiss her goodbye and she went off, to get ready for work at 2000hrs.

Must sleep for at least an hour. Very important! Ensure you arrive at the Unit Bar at about 2030hrs not too early; it’s going to be a long night. Chat up young student nurse, this is crucial, the junior female nurses have to be in their room by 2300hrs. Don’t drink too much, everything depends on timing, at about 2215hrs escort willing female up stairs to your room. Not too early or she might want to do it twice. After sex, escort said willing female back to her accommodation, reassuring her, your love is true. Now 2300hrs Run to the unit dining room and have supper with your regular girlfriend and the rest of night staff, ensure you eat plenty of carbs; you are going to need them. Reassure girlfriend you’re going straight to bed and you’ll miss her to keep you warm. By this time all, the senior nurses and your mates are over the road in the German pub. Hubies 48

Having ‘drunk’ loads of beer they’re all having a wild time, drink a couple of beers to get into the swing of things but avoid the ‘shots’ crucial to avoid getting too drunk, the older birds get angry if your performance is not up to scratch. At 0130hrs, the senior nurses are making a quick assessment of the available men, as the pub shuts at 0200hrs. The women ignore the men that are too pissed, and avoid them, (Now the carbs are doing their job and you still feel full of energy.) Smile when their eyes fall on you and try to look cool and don’t, whatever you do, don’t meet the eye of an ugly one!

You’ve been chosen! Escort the lovely girl to your room telling her how you have always found her attractive, try to remember her name, and say, “I always thought that ‘you’ were out of my league. They love that line it makes them feel in control. Remember you’ll be expected to perform, at least twice, and ‘Wham bam thank you mam won’t cut the mustard. The older girls always leave soon after sex as they don’t want to be seen by the junior staff, getting in late No girl wants to be thought a slut do they? Reader I know what you are thinking but we men don’t care! Yes I know but ‘Life’s not fair’. ‘I do detest everything which is not perfectly mutual’ Byron Yes, it’s not fair that chocolate makes you fat, Well, I’ve eaten my fair share and guess what? 49

The woman has left your bed with you swearing never ending love, just one job to do now, strip bed and replace sheets have quick shower, no shave, that will arouse suspicion with the regular girlfriend. In the morning woken up by girlfriend anxious to know why you weren’t at breakfast, give her hug and hope she doesn’t want sex! Knackered but,

Mission Accomplished. I know it sounds bad but in the unit bar three men would sit on a table with fifteen young attractive, intelligent women and you knew all the ladies from work and various meals, where you had sat together, so it wasn’t like you were sleeping together on a first date. I barely had time to play squash or football but I’ve never been fitter. Girls I’ll let you in on a little known male secret. Immediately after ejaculation, a man knows exactly what he feels about the women he has just had sex with. A good clue if he just hands you a tissue and rolls over and goes to sleep you can bet he doesn’t love you. Move On. Not that I would ever behave like that ‘honest’. Men are often blamed for women suffering from ‘low self-esteem’ but I can assure you ladies when you enter a room your biggest critic is your fellow women. Men don’t care if you’re wearing last year’s fashions or your handbag doesn’t go with those shoes and if a bloke notices your lipstick clashes with your nails he’s probably, batting for the other side, so why care what he thinks? Ladies you will never become equal to a man until you can walk down the street with a ‘beer belly’ a bald head and still think your’ God’s Gift’ to the opposite sex.

We all do don’t we guys? 50

Chapter 23: Knackered or all shagged out. This life was great but I remember one night, I just wanted to do a ‘Greta Garbo’ and stay in my room alone. Every half an hour, or so, there was a knock on the door with a message that some girl or other wanted to see me in the hospital bar downstairs. At about eleven o’clock there was a gentle knock and a girl’s voice said “Eddie it’s Lynn, can I come in?” Lynn was a sad girl with ‘issues’ as they say today, chunky and desperate for male attention. I couldn’t send her away. She was my ‘standby girl’ always ready to spend the night with me if my date hadn’t gone well. I didn’t feel like sex. In the words of an Alison Moyet, record I was all ‘Shagged Out’ I think Big Al’s version actually said ‘Cried out’. Therefore, I gave Lynn what she and all of us need now and again. I gave her a cuddle and she went to sleep contented. I added cuddles after my love making from then on, when I saw the effect it had on her. Another night I woke up to find a girl sitting by my bed. She had waited for my latest to leave and just sat on a chair next to my bed, stroking my shoulder. We had been friends for a while. (In Rinteln, women could be just friends) She was intelligent but lonely; let’s just say nature had not been kind to her in the looks department but she clearly had strong feelings for me.

I’m walking alone because I want to be alone. Garbo. 51

Girls as you know, us men can’t ‘fake it’ like what you can. I found it impossible to return this ladies advances, sad, but that’s how a guy’s body works. Women know this but somehow they always turn it on its head. How many times have you heard a woman berating her man, in company, for his lack of enthusiasm in the bedroom? As if by, humiliating your man in front of his mates, will somehow renew his ardour for you.

Ladies try a ‘back-rub’, yes every time! Are you going to marry that girl Poole? Life was great but one morning escorting a young woman out of the male billets, I was seen by Big Reg Carnell, the Admin Officer. He was a real gent. After she had left he said, “Are you going to marry that girl Poole?” “No Sir”, I answered honestly, we were all scared of Col Carnell, “then don’t let me see her in your room again” he boomed.

I always referred to Shresta as my ‘Norwegian Wood’ girl. “And when I awoke I was alone,” Paul McCartney. She was always gone, when I awoke. 52

Chapter 24: I’ve been to Norway “Yeah Yeah right” Pam and I had breakfast in the unit dining room at 0700hrs and being on different shifts we arranged to meet for tea at 1700hrs and off we went to work. I reported to casualty for my morning shift and was ordered to report to the Commanding Officer. No one thought he was a real person, no one had ever seen him arrive or leave, we thought the chief clerk had put him on the pay roll to channel money into his own Swiss bank account. “Poole take my car, go the local airport, jump on the ‘Lear Jet’ and fetch a guy who has fallen ill in Norway, the local hospital, he’s in up there, is costing us a fortune”. He went on, “Collect some pain killers from the pharmacy on your way”. “No need for them Sir, I’ve no hangover this morning” “Not for you Poole, for the patient you idiot!” “Sorry I’ll be on my way then Sir”. I quickly grabbed my coat and the drugs before he picked someone else for this great skive. Feeling like a pop star, I was driven to the local airport but the ‘Lear Jet’ had turned into a Beaver, (no I don’t mean that), A Beaver is a small single engined plane and I jumped in and we wos off to Norway at ten thousand feet, on a clear day. It was marvellous. It was as if looking at a huge map. Ten thousand feet is the perfect height to see everything on the ground. We collected the man from Norway and flew back to Rinteln in a few hours. I meet Pam for tea as arranged. “Had a good day?” Pam asked, “Yeah, flew to Norway and back today, it was great”. The looks from the people on our table said it all and it was a few days before my adventure was believed. 53

Chapter25: Public Service. During my time at Rinteln, I became the unit disc jockey for the hospitals weekly disco. I became a valued member of the Hospital. Whilst being the hospital Disc Jockey I survived an assassination attempt by one of the guys who I described as ‘useless with girls.’ His name was Gary. He was a nice lad, but his nickname was ‘Dangerbrain; A real character. He had a slightly bizarre approach to life. Before ‘we normal people’ undertake a task, we make a mental assessment to see if our abilities, qualifications and experience make us a suitable person to succeed. Gary ‘Dangerbrain’ had no such ‘safety switch’ and was not subject to such mundane laws therefore, in his own mind no task was beyond him. Unknown to me ‘Dangerbrain’ had rewired the amplifier on the hospital disco kit. The amp was now permanently live, which didn’t matter, until I nonchalantly leaned over to adjust the volume whilst leaning on a radiator. Can I say I was the first person to break dance in Rinteln? I had a few choice words for Gary when I discovered his involvement in my near death experience! ‘Dangerbrain’ was also involved in a few other dangerous incidents and whilst I didn’t witness all his exploits myself, his antics were the talk of the hospital. When a small fire broke out in the upstairs maternity unit he commenced throwing large oxygen cylinders out of the upstairs window, to prevent them exploding. These weighed in excess of fifty pounds. The new mums and the nursing staff, 54

who had evacuated the maternity unit, were not out of danger as these cylinders rained down all around them. He always meant well, but his nickname was well deserved. On another occasion, he surpassed himself when he went to meet a casualty arriving by American Helicopter. We had all done the course on how to help the pilot land safely and ‘Dangerbrain’ was sent to the unit sports ground to assist with the night landing. Unknown to me, instead of the regulation torch, he took from casualty a *laryngoscope that has a bright but very small light. The pilot thought when landing, in the dark, that because of the size of the light he was still fairly high up when, to his horror, his aircraft hit the ground very hard! To say the pilot was unimpressed and not amused would be a lot like saying Bill Gates has a bit of cash. I was a little concerned to see ‘Dangerbrain’ hurtle through casualty with the American pilot, still with his helmet on, in hot pursuit screaming death threats. Luckily, Gary’s superior knowledge of the local geography saved his life on that exciting night. *A laryngoscope is that thingy the Doctor looks down your throat with.

Answer for page 42: The Victorians required men to cover the whole of their trunk when on a public beach, including the nipples. Today they are little more than shorts but we still call them ‘trunks’ You may have another theory.

Chapter 26: Is there anybody there? I myself wasn’t immune from cock ups; The hospital was to have a ‘Tannoy System’ installed. Reporting for night duty in casualty I noticed the system, about ninety percent complete and I was anxious to learn how to use it, so at about 2 a.m. I plugged in, this new box of tricks, and whispered, “Is there anybody there?” into the microphone. I could not hear my voice and so increased the volume and asked again, in a loud whisper, “Is there anybody there?” Then all hell broke loose. All the phones lit up as the wards called in. Unbeknown to me I had spread terror and panic throughout the hospital, apparently mine was the only speaker not working. The maternity unit had to call in standby staff to cope with the sudden increase in the workload, brought about by my eagerness to get to grips with this new technology. I, of course, denied all knowledge of the source of this ghostly whisper, after all I could truthfully say, “I heard nothing.” ‘I’m sorry, I never ever apologise, that’s just the way I am, Homer.

“I’m on my period,” she said. I loved my work in casualty especially when it was busy. Friday and Saturday nights were when ‘drink related’ incidents were frequent. I became a dab hand with the ‘Gastric Lavage’, commonly called the ‘stomach pump’. This procedure required putting a large rubber tube down the throats of the people who had taken an overdose, pouring water into a funnel attached to the tube then lowering the tube allowing gravity to deposit the contents of the stomach in a bucket. 56

One Saturday night I was in full flow, the woman patient had taken all her iron pills; (these make the lining of the stomach bleed). The procedure requires the water to be as clear on exit, as when it went in. After a few goes trying to achieve this, the woman got very agitated and tried to bite me. Luckily, I’d removed her false teeth at the beginning of the procedure. Then she said the words I’ll never forget “It won’t ever come out clear, I’m on my period”. Priceless!

Casualty 1973 Me, my boss and a Nursing Officer (a nice one) Once, I was tasked with x-raying a very badly burned body. To avoid causing distress to my fellow staff, I went around the outside of the hospital pushing the poor man on a trolley. First, I covered him with a blanket, as he looked a hideous sight. Disaster struck as I approached the back doors. Many civilian staff were eating their sandwiches sitting in the sun near the rear door of the hospital. As I approached the people eating their packed lunches, a gust of wind removed the blanket exposing this hideous sight. Twenty people immediately vomiting doesn’t help this image which is still burned into my memory banks.

Chapter 27: Do you lot want to walk home? During this time, I borrowed the unit mini-bus and me and two other guys plus eight women went off to the Harz Mountains where I disgraced myself, by even my low standards of behaviour. I had been seeing a lovely lady but had secretly lusted after another beautiful girl called Dutch. During the night’s entertainment, Dutch started to rub my leg under the table, well, a nods as good as a wink’ to a blind man and I arranged to meet Dutch in her room later. My regular girlfriend smelled a rat when I expressed a desire to have an early night and she discovered me sneaking into Dutch’s room. No matter how much we ignored her, my girlfriend would not go away, so in desperation I invited her to join us in bed. The three of us were in one bed but every time I tried to ‘entertain Dutch’, my girlfriend would not allow proceedings continue. In, desperation, I frogmarched my girlfriend out of the room and locked her out. She didn’t give up and enlisted the help of the two other men on the trip who came down to Dutch’s room and dragged me off to a small room where they locked me in for the night. The next morning I awoke to find they had unlocked the room and everyone else had gone to Frühstück. (Breakfast) I walked into the dining room, no one spoke to me, I lifted the keys to the mini-bus and said “Do you lot want to walk back?” This comment broke the deathly silence and normal service was resumed. The unfinished business with the beautiful Dutch was resolved a few nights after our return to Rinteln. 58

Dutch and me (aged23) she was posh but lovely XXXX We all went to Hamburg in that mini bus on another weekend but that story can only be read after the nine o’clock watershed, besides you would swear I made it up. Whips and live sex on stage.

During this time I slept with a girl called M. I will never forget her, I’m finding it difficult to explain without being crude but when we made love she had incredible muscles inside which gripped me like a vice. The result was an immediate end to proceedings, most embarrassing for me, as by now I considered myself very experienced in these matters. Whoever M. married I hope he realises how lucky he is. Origin of the word Fany. During the second world war there was an organisation formed called, First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, They still exist today but they won’t let me join, damn! 59

Chapter 28: You leave me no choice! For some reason men would refuse all sorts of inducements to leave Rinteln. I was no different and when I received a posting to Borneo, I asked the personnel officer to cancel the order. He refused, angry I said, “You leave me no choice.” As an exit line from his office, it wasn’t too bad but I had no idea what I meant. I was due to go on leave that day and on my return, low and behold, during my absence the posting had been cancelled. As I passed Chris Town’s office, he grabbed me and asked, “What did you do? I gave him a knowing wink and smile suggesting much but in fact, I had done nothing, in truth, I was as perplexed as he was. My regular girlfriend Pam had been on leave and true to form, I was carrying on; with, a lovely girl. She was from Nepal and her parents had sent her to the U.K. for her schooling. Nera, then joined the army to become a student nurse. Pam arrived back from leave and I waited for the fireworks to begin but Pam didn’t say a word to me she had gone to see Nera and as we say in the army ‘told her fortune’ if she continued to see me. That made me decide to marry Pam, after all, she must have loved me a lot to be willing to put up with my behaviour. Pam had wanted to get married for some time and I finally rewarded her loyalty by agreeing. Men marry women hoping they won’t change, and they do! Women marry men hoping they’ll change and they don’t! 60

Pam was as far away from my mother as it was possible to get, which was no accident. She was what I had always craved and searched for in a woman. Pam was intelligent, honest, dependable and above all loyal. Was I a good bet? I’m sure most readers can’t see why she would want anything to do with me. Pam knew all about my hedonistic life style, and perhaps she thought she could change me, most women do. In my defence, it was never my intention to hurt anyone and I never did anything to a girl that wasn’t mutually desired.

I do detest everything, which is not perfectly mutual. Byron You’ve got it all! I had by this time, inherited my mate Lennie’s love nest, a very nice Granny annexe in the grounds of a nearby large house. We had some great parties there and I remember a new comer to our unit at one of our parties staring at me, in the time-honoured way of all malcontents, “You’ve got it all you bastard,” he said. Hatred is something I’ve always attracted from people, who hardy know me. People have always passed nasty vicious comments like that. This aggressive behaviour, from strangers, has bewildered me all my life. Why do I attract jealousy and hatred without seemingly giving them any reason?

However, I’ve become used to it over the years. When, growing up, discussing marriage with an older man he said, “Don’t worry about the woman you love, worry about the woman who loves you”. Cynical or wise words? I don’t know.

Chapter 29: I missed my old life. I, had once again been sent to Northern Ireland and on my return Pam and I were to be married. Pam didn’t tell her family in Wales and we were married in the Army Registry Office in Minden. Ken an old friend of mine from Catterick, was my best man. (He was ‘best man’ at my first wedding so I thought it only fair for him to do a repeat performance). I had purchased a new car, tax free, for our honeymoon, we went off on a tour of Europe Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Italy. Neither Pam nor I had never been anywhere but Britain for our holidays and we enjoyed the immense feeling of freedom. Pam and I got a lovely flat in Germany, I don’t know why but the quarters in Germany were much more spacious than the army houses back in England as we found out on our return to the U.K. We had to sell all our furniture because it was too big for the humble house we were given in Keogh Barracks. In Rinteln, Pam and I returned to our flat to be greeted by all the occupants of the other five flats. They were on the warpath (Pam and I were the only white couple in the block, which added to the fun). Our brand new washing machine had ejected its filter and the water, never reaching the level to switch off, continued to flood every flat in the building except ours. We were the top floor and the water had gone straight out of our front door and caused an enormous amount of damage below. 62

On our return, that night the neighbours were outside waiting for us. Pam and I, were called many names, but who could blame them? Today it would be called a racist incident, back then I was just glad they didn’t beat me up. Married life was a difficult adjustment for me as my whole social life had revolved around drink and sex. The first thing Pam said was my pile of ‘Mayfair Mags’ must go. Porn mags are necessary for any single soldier. I could live with the loss of my mags but found it hard to stay in each evening. In Germany in 1976, there were no English speaking TV programmes so we didn’t even have a TV. Pam was a crap cook, so dinner parties were out, we did have other couples round for drinks but it wasn’t the same.

Pam, after our return to the U.K. with her Mum. Her family never forgave me for stealing the heart of their lovely daughter. 63

Chapter 30: Squash what a great way to meet people. Since Rhyl, I was always a keen squash player and played for the hospital team, so to cope with my new life I put my energy into improving my game. To this end, I applied for a ‘Squash Coaches Course’ at Rheindahlen. There I meet Dick Sharkey a great squash player but an even better coach. After two weeks, with his coaching I understood more about squash than I had managed to learn in all the hours I spent playing and practising, desperate to improve but not quite understanding what was wrong with my game. I went on to become a professional standard squash coach, thanks to Richard’s teaching. If only Richard Sharkey had been at Rhyl, I may have been a very good squash player instead of just reasonable. I went on to win many trophies, including the Army Medical Services Championships. I was very proud to be chosen for the Army ‘A’ team, from time to time. I was very proud to be a member of the team that won the coveted ‘Major Units Cup’ the best unit squash team in the whole Army. I still enjoy, to this day, beating the whiz kids at my local squash courts, half my age. They come off court having just been beaten, (but not quite understanding how), by a tubby sixty year old who didn’t even break sweat.

Thanks Richard you were an inspiration to me! 64

Chapter 31: Shittydeath! To put a bit of excitement back into my life I foolishly applied for a parachuting course. I did not have a fear of heights and I was up for any new experience, so off I went. The three days learning to land properly and how to pack your own chute were no problem and then day four arrived, ‘shittydeath’ a new phrase to me but so apt if anything went wrong. It was a mixture of excitement and terror waiting for my turn to board the ‘Islander’ eight at a time. My turn arrived and I asked the instructor “how will I know how high I am?” “Just watch your shadow,” Good tip! Ground rush is a problem. One minute you seem to be high up and suddenly hit the ground. As I descended I watched my shadow, suddenly it landed! I’d been watching the wrong shadow. On leaving the aircraft we were told to count ‘thousand one’ to ‘thousand ten’ but terror took over and I just never got past one. I, was forced to come to terms with being scared. Me scared, it was a new experience. Coming to terms with this proved hard. I didn’t look forward to my next jump and took forever to pack my chute. Up and up, went the plane, having no door, meant you never felt secure as it climbed to 3,000ft. Too scared to say, “Fuck Off, I ain’t going to do that again”. Six times, I did this incredibly stupid thing, once landing on a curved stadium roof, sixty foot up. I refused to climb down the drainpipe and lay flat on the roof and refused to move. They got me down eventually, but we were never going to be friends after all those threats and the language! 65

Then I had a break. My mate Chris, also from Rinteln, had landed in the trees and dislocated his shoulder. I, on humanitarian grounds, offered to take him to Hospital for treatment. I escaped the madness of jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane. To this day, I have a real issue with heights, which before the course I never had.

Thanks Chris, I hope your shoulder is O.K.

A night out four ladies and two men, I miss the company of women as we older men seem to grow apart from ladies as sex lessens its importance on our behaviour. Older women become celibate from choice and older men from necessity. Guys, if you are ever in hospital on a heart monitor, don’t ‘Masturbate’ it really scares the nurses on so many levels. (It’s a long story) Six, the first perfect number, it’s a maths thingy.

Chapter 32: On the Loose! (‘All Night Long’, as ‘Lionel Richie’ sang)

Claire S was one of those girls that a chap like me could only ogle from afar. She looked like a young Sophia Loren, who in my opinion was the most beautiful women who has ever lived. Claire S was her equal in looks. Claire’s uniform was immaculate and her demeanour was that of a Princess. I can’t say I lusted after her because she was so! Far out my league, that it was unthinkable to contemplate sleeping with her. But, as Maggie Thatcher said: “It’s a funny old world” One night Pam was on nights and Claire needed an escort home. I’d been doing the unit disco and was fairly sober I walked Claire home with no thoughts about ‘hanky-panky’ honest. Claire S invited me in for a coffee and I listened to her troubles and found myself comforting her. The next thing I knew we were in bed together. I thought I must have been dreaming. This incredibly beautiful woman in bed, naked, with me. I’ve heard stories about how many times a lion has sex in a twenty-four hour period and it sounds impressive. That night of passion, I don’t know how many times we had sex but I didn’t sleep a wink and couldn’t get enough. Something told me this would never happen again and I should make the most of this night. I think, that night, I came near to man’s personal best. I suspect women get huge amount of pleasure from ‘being desired’. Claire I still think about you and suspect I always will. Claire S. I will never forget you. XXXXXX. 67

Chapter 33: O.M.G. Rinteln is a small town on the side of a hill but in the hills, there were great restaurants and pubs. The Germans don’t have the British prudish disposition and at the local health club we sat in the sauna naked and swam in the pool naked. It wasn’t a ‘turn-on’ to sit there with naked people all around; I got used to it and thought it quite natural. I once went round to a friend’s house and his German girlfriend let me in, having clearly been in the shower. “He won’t be long” she said, “He’s gone to the shops”. I wouldn’t remember this small episode but she came into the living room and continued to towelling off and chatting to me. I tried to look nonchalant but it’s still in the memory banks as an OH! My! God! Where do I look Moment? Anyway, to get back to the pub I was going to tell you about, up in the hills behind Rinteln there was a bar, which looked normal enough on entering, though you could not help but notice a large glass wall. The other side of the wall was a small swimming pool and swimming in it, yes, you guessed, naked people. Well of course being sober, we all thought what idiots, fancy swimming naked with strangers watching! Alcohol has helped people to have sex and do stupid things for years! After three half litres of beer, with my British reserve well and truly gone, I was in there with them and having a great time.

Keeping my end up for Britain. 68

Pam in uniform around 1976 the year we got married. Pam and I went to Malvern to visit my folks. On the way we passed a sign, which instructed cars to turn left for Hereford, Pam having ‘A’ level history inquired “is that where Hereford the Wake came from?” Even now I still remind her of this historical faux pas. Pam has her own back, when trying to teach her to drive (never try to teach your wife to drive) I was explaining about looking ahead and anticipating an approaching problem. On approaching a corner I said “In my mind, I’m already round the bend” she agreed!

Pam tempted. ‘I can resist anything but temptation’. Oscar Wilde.

Chapter 34: No Drinking and behaving myself, yes really! Pam was a qualified nurse by now and she wishing to add midwife to her newly acquired S.R.N. we both asked for a posting back to the U.K. in the Aldershot area. Pam, went to the Louise Margaret Maternity Hospital in Aldershot and I was sent to Keogh Barracks, Ash Vale (Near Aldershot) where I was assigned to the Apprentice College to work in the stores. What a come down. International playboy to stores assistant. Life would have been very boring working in the stores, so to relieve the boredom… I decided to wipe out the whole of the Senior Admin Personnel. 70

The indoor firing range in Keogh was in poor order and I was tasked with cleaning it up. One of the problems was about ten dirty army mattresses, which were on the floor for the men to lie on when shooting. My worker was an apprentice, who had transgressed some rule or other. I told the apprentice to get a trolley and take all the mattresses to the incinerator and burn them. I didn’t know then, but I soon would, when you burn an army mattress it produces a poison gas. The gas enveloped the admin wing. Prompt action by the chief clerk prevented a large number of deaths. My boss questioned me about why my helper had decided to burn the mattresses, I thought quickly and shouted, “He did what?” “The idiot leave him to me I’ll sort him out”

Nearly a very big Oops! Sport once again came to my rescue and I really became serious about squash and running. Dickey Dow was at the depot but now married to a British woman, but David as he now liked to be called, was taking life very serious has was I. My drinking was curtailed and I did a lot of running. I trained and completed a marathon. The Army marathon is held at R.A.F. Swinderby, in the middle of nowhere. At least it was flat. I did the first twenty miles in just over two hours but then I met the ‘Wall’ I took over an hour to do the last six miles. My old friend Dave Minden, by now a trained physio, joined me in Aldershot. We trained 71

together and later we went on to do the 1982 London marathon together, which I really enjoyed in spite of having a broken collarbone. Pam and I on our return to the U.K. were given a ‘crappy’ married quarter. I remember Pam sitting in the car outside the house crying and refusing to enter. It turned out to be a good thing because we vowed to buy a home of our own ASAP. Which we did, we took out a huge mortgage and bought a lovely house in Windmill Road, Aldershot priced £33,000.00. In the late seventies, that was a fortune. It seems for some reason every time my life was going well, a disaster would strike and sure enough, it did. I worked hard in the stores and was being groomed to become a sergeant on the staff of the ‘Apprentice College’ but whilst taking part in adventure training, disaster struck.

Me crossing the line, note bandage, on broken Collarbone from playing Rugby the week before. I always like to do things the hard way.

Chapter 35: “It’s no good flapping now! You idiot” Members of the apprentice college were sent to the North of Scotland, ‘Mallaig’ for adventure training. A very hostile and inhospitable terrain was chosen for the hill walking. I was tasked with bringing up the rear and I was to carry the ropes. The terrain was torture and although being extremely fit I was finding it hard. Some of the youngsters were on their last legs and one boy in particular had clearly had enough. When we stopped for a break, I drew his condition to the Officer’s attention. The officer was a hard case named Geordie McCue. “Put him next to me” he said but soon after we recommenced walking the boy was back with me at the rear. I was extremely ‘worried’ I moved forward and remonstrated with Geordie, he said “keep an eye on him and shut up moaning” I did but by the lads colour I could see disaster looming. Well not a mile down the road the lad collapsed in a heap. Geordie went into panic mode, shouting instructions, get a tent up, get him out of those wet clothes, get a tent up; get some soup warmed up, put a tent up. My only excuse is I was knackered from walking for many days carrying the ropes and bringing up the rear, (the hardest job). I said,

“It’s no good flapping now you idiot”.

Being right is never the issue in life and I was to learn this lesson many times. The lad was in hospital for two weeks and only just survived. McCue was lucky but of course, on my return to Keogh I, was interviewed by the Officer Commanding, he listened to my account. I think he believed me others had corroborated my story, however, as human beings we usually take the easy way out and Dave Bridge was to be no exception. He decided one of us must go, and of course, it would be me.

‘ Tiger Poole’ ‘When Pam and I returned to the U.K. to cheer her up I brought home a tabby cat we named ‘Tiger’ he was a great cat and such a character, Pam and I both howled when after thirteen years we were forced to have him put down. As I said earlier, ‘melancholy’ is the path of least resistance for me. Well a joke from the seventies is “I was feeling so pissed off I listened to a ‘Lenard Cohan’ record and it cheered me up”. 74

Chapter 36: A round peg in a round whole Transferred to the recruit division where I was a round peg in round hole. The job suited me down to the ground my forty recruits were there for me to teach and prepare for the journey of ‘Army life’. My Rhyl days and always believing in ‘fair play’ stood me in good stead I adored the job and my troops adored me. There were not enough hours in the day, 0730hrs on parade inspecting their rooms and 2100hrs inspecting the troops who were not up to standard. I loved that job. Of all my jobs in the army, I believe, it was the one, I made the greatest contribution. Was this the same guy who had been a playboy in Rinteln? One small point that was less than perfect was when a sergeant’s job came up. The major, my boss, chose Danny, a fellow corporal, for the post. I went to see the major about this and he said, “I can afford to lose him but I can’t afford to lose you. Ain’t life a bitch? Many years later whilst out shopping in Aldershot, I meet one of my recruits, we were both in civilian clothes, he jumped to attention, and said “Good afternoon Corporal” he was a corporal himself by then and myself a Warrant Officer. I was very touched, if slightly embarrassed because of our surroundings. Clearly I’d done something right to still have his complete respect all those years later.

I remember all of my Squads with much affection. 75

One of my fellow recruit corporals was to become a great friend of mine we loved drinking and running together. Rick Carey helped with my running and we did up to fifteen miles training a day but I remained a plodder compared with him. Rick taught me one thing that I’ll never forget. “Rick don’t these hills hurt you” I asked puffing and panting up one. “Of course they do but I know they are hurting everyone else as well” he replied. A good lesson for life we always wrongly assume we are the only people ‘Hurting as we pass through the Trials and Tribulations of life.

“Every Body Hurts Sometime” as R.E.M. Would Sing.

My mate Rick, good luck to you, I think Rick went to live in Australia. A place ‘God’ invented for all those people who take ‘SPORT’ too seriously.

My ‘Motto’ is, Succeed in spite don’t fail because. 76

Chapter 37: Guns but no Roses. 1979. Last week I couldn’t spell Sergeant today I are one. After two years as recruit corporal, it was my turn to become a Sergeant. I was chosen to attend a weapons course at Warminster. The course was hard as weapons are not something the R.A.M.C. tends to use a lot but I passed and I became a weapons instructor. Like most jobs, one needs a few months to become good at it, and this job, was no exception. But of course my life was never easy and the other weapons instructor suddenly disappeared back to Colchester because of a problem with his wife, leaving me, an acting Sergeant to do the job of two. Frank left me in the lurch but I hope his wife was O.K. I was under so much pressure as an acting sergeant doing the job of two that when our annual reports came around, I was graded only ‘good’. I thought I deserved better! My reporting officer was Maj Chris Town (from Rinteln) a nice man, but a pen pusher, they seem to thrive in the peacetime army. I secured my Sergeant anyway but he had lost my trust in his ability to be fair. During this time I became a very good shot with the 9m.m. automatic pistol. (Standard Army issue then) Every range day I would have a practice with the loose rounds, which were always left over. My favourite trick was to tell people before hand where I would hit the target, leg, arm etc. Yes I know I’ve been a smart arse all my life. I can’t resist showing off. 77

Half a million pounds on the pools

Spot Motley when he won half a million, on the Pools. The nice lady is the lovely Marti Caine, I’m on left. They’re all standing on boxes ‘Honest’ Picture is from the front-page of the ‘SUN’ the next day

General Shore presenting me with a squash cup. Pam with Simon in background. My mate ‘Trevel HENRY’. Trev can be seen ‘smiling’ in background. L.O.L. Jigger Foster nearly got in picture on right

Chapter 38: It’s got two speakers it must be stereo! One of my colleagues was Steve Sweet, he joined me on the weapons after about a year of being on my own, and he was very welcome. Steve and I were a little competitive, as friends often are. We had a huge laugh at Steve’s expense when he stood up at a Mess Meeting and tried to explain to the then R.S.M. Joe Murti that we needed a new Disco Kit for the Mess. ”Why What’s wrong with the one we’ve got“? Barked Joe, he was a tight Northerner and didn’t like to waste money. Steve trying to be respectful said “We need one that’s stereo”. Steve was on a loser when with the logic of the uninformed Joe said “Ours must be stereo because it’s got two speakers”. Steve persevered for what seemed ages, but he was never going to win. Steve some you win! Some you lose.

Don’t piss him off or he’ll punch you. My line manager was an ‘old school’ Sergeant Major. Fred Clarke he didn’t like us ‘whiz kids’ we knew nothing. Fred and I got on much better after he sent me to collect a truck from Ashford in Kent; when he ordered me to fetch a truck. I explained I couldn’t collect his truck as I had personnel from the Territorial Army collecting rounds, from us, for their annual camp. Every serving soldier had to do his A.P.W.T. (Annual Weapons Test to normal people.) “Never mind that” he said “just leave me the keys and I’ll issue them their rounds”. To make life easy for Fred I left the Two Thousand Rounds Ball in the middle of the magazine. (Ball is what we in the Army call live rounds as opposed to blank ammunition.) On my return, I asked if they had arrived and Fred said, “Yes no problems” Well it may come 79

as a shock but I took my job seriously and I checked everything was O.K. before going home. Things were not O.K. The rounds I’d left for Fred were still there and two thousand blanks were missing. Fred had given the T.A. guys blank ammunition, not much good for their annual weapons test. I was worried but I knew I had to tell Fred. As I said he was old school and likely to thump you if you pissed him off. He took the news well and disappeared into the night with two thousand rounds in his car, strictly illegal, but I wasn’t about to tell him. The next day the blank rounds were back and the two thousand live rounds had disappeared and been signed for. All was well and we had a bond and that’s what the Army was all about.

Chapter 36: I shagged her to Death One of my fellow instructors was Tom. He did the Signals side of things in the ‘Military Wing’ and a very good instructor he was to. His life hadn’t always been blameless, he had a dark secret which he told us after many drinks in the mess one night. We, were all swore, never to reveal his secret, but as Oscar Wilde said; “I can keep a secret it’s the people I tell that can’t” As a young soldier he had the same problem we all have, a willing girlfriend but nowhere to consummate the relationship. Tom being a classy sort of guy chose to commit the deed between the ‘Huts’ we called the ‘Spiders’ or male accommodation at the Aldershot Military Hospital (We lived in similar accommodation to these in Rhyl). 80

The next morning Tom arrived at breakfast, ashen faced. He sat there staring into space barely eating and Tom liked his food, something was wrong. “What’s the matter Tom?” Some concerned person asked, I’m in the shit,” he answered “I shagged her to death.” Tom related the story of the night before which included the death of his girlfriend, during sex. “There we were having a great time. She was going mad and really enjoying herself” We all exaggerate, don’t we? Tom was forgiven for over-egging the story as the listening crowd drew near to hear the details. Tom continued, “Suddenly she gave a great heave and died” “What did you do then?” Came the obvious question. Tom then horrified his listeners when he said “I covered her with leaves and then sat on my bed all night”. “I couldn’t sleep,” he added. At this point, the door of the unit dining room was flung open and there stood, covered in leaves and bursting with rage, Tom’s dead girlfriend. She was not dead. She was very pissed off and set about Tom with gusto. Her friends managed to calm her down and take her off to be cleaned up. She had during the excitement of the moment had a ‘fit’ of some kind and then lost consciousness.

Tom and she never spoke again.

Chapter 39: The Falkland Islands 1982 Maggie banged the drum and we wos off. One of the biggest disappointments of my career was not being in the first phase when we went to ‘rescue’ the Falklands. Not because I was a war monger or had a death wish but for years we had trained and planned and one is never sure until the chips are down how one will fare. I rushed around Keogh, begging anyone of influence, to get me put on the list “We need you here Poole to train the replacements if it all goes wrong” the Boss said. I rushed home to complain to Pam “Bastards won’t let me go”. Of course, the records office sent me down in the second wave. ‘Arseholes’ I had all the shit but none of the glory. Well I’m still here and a few of my mates aren’t.

Well done, to those that did go! They did us Brits proud.

Members of Sergeant’s Mess Falkland Islands 1983

Chapter 40: Promotion? 1983 On the way down to the Falklands, we travelled on a North Sea ferry. They look big but in the South Atlantic, they aren’t! We heaved to, for three days because of rough seas. The operative word being ‘heaved’. The ships Civvie Medic was down with seasickness along with two hundred others. I was promoted to ‘Ships Medic’ and ran round the ship helping where I could. I’m not really good on ships but I didn’t have time to get sick myself and I did the R.A.M.C. proud. But Of course I’m too modest to say so. The Falklands was a bit grim when I got there but stuff kept arriving from U.K. each day. We were, soon sent, all the necessities from home. One morning a young soldier reported to my medical centre and informed me that he had lost nearly two stone in a month. “What” I shouted, “Why haven’t you been sick before?” His answer appalled me“ I did, but the guy who was here before you, told me to eat more puddings” I tested his urine, sugar plus, plus, plus, it was almost off the scale, clearly diabetes was a very strong possibility. We were in ‘Kelly’s Garden’ the far side of the Island and there were no roads. I contacted H.Q. in Port Stanley and was told a doctor would be sent out in a few days. “Not good enough” I remonstrated” This shocked the senior officers in the command post. “I want a Helicopter now or we could soon have

a patient in a coma”. Not an hour later a helicopter with a doctor on board arrived. The doctor examined the young man and said ‘Quick’ get him into the Helicopter,” Before she climbed aboard the ‘chopper she turned to me and said, “Well done, you did good, another few days and he would have been a goner”

Not as good as a medal but almost! I was a hero again a few weeks later when the Irish Rangers who were planning to have a formal dinner made a request. Apparently, the ‘Irish Rangers’ cannot have a formal dinner without Bailey’s Irish Cream. There was none to be had on the Island. I’ve always been good in an emergency and I got a mate to send a helicopter out to a Naval Ship twenty miles out at sea. I was told to be waiting at the Heli pad for my urgent medical supplies, which were due to arrive by ‘chopper’. I waited and sure enough in came a large helicopter (A Sea King I think) The’ Load Master’ handed me a box and demanded £11.00 which I duly handed over. (I know, I should have tipped him) Off it went and I delivered two of the three bottles in the box to the Mess. I kept one bottle for myself, which I drank while playing Chess with a mate. I was told that ‘trip’ cost about £18,000 But who cares?

We were ‘WORTH IT’ 84

Chapter 41: As we say, any mug can rough it. A floating hotel arrived and I was l lucky enough, to be moved aboard. It was luxury a single room and a hot bath to myself. The girls, on board, had only a one communal shower which they hated (low self-esteem kicked in, women don’t like to be seen naked, even by other females). My private bath was very popular and I didn’t charge for its use. Down below was a gym, squash court and a small swimming pool. I took the opportunity to lose a little weight and I didn’t drink as the price of my luxury accommodation was to be on call every night. I didn’t let the junior medics suture, without my supervision, and we got a lot of practice as the Engineers work hard and play hard. They were there to build the new runway. My last Night I was given a little party in the mess. I hadn’t had a drink for about two months and made up for lost time. I staggered to my bed at about midnight. At about 0200hrs I was woken up and informed a young soldier had an injury to his forehead, he’d been hit with a bottle. The gash went from his hairline to just above his nose. Doctor Poole was still pissed but getting a real doctor at night from Stanley was not an option. I, with only a towel wrapped around my waist, stitched his forehead. You can do

anything when you’re pissed can’t you? As I completed the task, his boss came into see how he was. The young Officer was not too impressed, as when he entered the room my towel dropped to the floor. Luckily he probably thought I was a fellow Officer and he beat a hasty retreat. I woke up next morning and remembered “What the fuck have I done? Get him here now!” I shouted to the corporal, while waiting for him to appear my mind raced, we’ve all seen ‘Frankenstein’ haven’t we. The patient arrived at the same time as our Doctor. We looked at the quality of my work. “Couldn’t have done better myself” The Doctor announced. Phew!

I flew home with a clear conscience if not a clear head.

Luxury floating hotel ‘The Pursuivant’ 1983. Men, who behave well, rarely make history. 86

Chapter 42: Not a Hospital Please (1983) On my return from the Falklands, I was posted to the Cambridge Military Hospital in Aldershot. Not a good place if ambitious, which I was by now. I managed to change my posting to the, Army Physical Training School, where I would teach first aid, do first aid and take the morning sick parade. To teach/coach squash would be my job to. This should have been my dream posting but I incurred the ‘Perfect Storm’. The Commanding Officer, Admin Officer and Sergeant Major (R.S.M.) were all awful people in their different ways. The R.S.M. made my life a misery he was unworthy of his post, in my humble opinion. On one occasion he made me paint the sergeants mess garden furniture, it was old cheap rubbish and not worth the effort or cost of renovation. On two consecutive Christmas days I was put on duty. The final insult was when he, not understanding army traditions sent one his Hench-men to order me to remove my Medal. Army tradition is that on entering the mess one removes medals, the exception to this rule is ‘unless the individual has just been awarded a Medal. I had just been presented my, Long Service & Good Conduct medal. I was in the mess celebrating this honor and just about to buy drinks for the mess, in the time-honoured way, when I received the order to remove my medal. As ordered, I removed it and left the mess. What should have a special day turned into a miserable one. The R.S.M. was a 87

bully and had very little to commend him as a sergeant major or as a man. R.S.M.s are not there to be popular, but they should always command respect and have a sense of fair play. These qualities were sadly lacking in this man. I’ve always hated bullies who use their strength, intellect or position to make the lives of others miserable, he was such a man. I tried to make the best of it but it was the worst posting of my whole career. On another occasion The R.S.M. sent for me, “You play with racquets” he said. He had contempt for any non-contact sport. “Yes” I admitted, “This afternoon I want you go over to the Paras and referee their tennis finals”. Well of course he would not be told that squash and tennis were very different and the nearest I’d come to tennis was watching ‘Borg’ on the telly. Off I went in my blazer and flannels. I arrived and the Para Brigadier greeted me and said how pleased he was that I had kindly agreed to referee the whole of the Paras finals which included a doubles match. Hundreds of people were sat in row after row of banked seating. Maybe I could run for it? But the Brigadier’s wife was handing me a bunch of flowers and saying, stuff like, how honoured they were to have a ‘Professional Tennis Coach’ to referee their finals. Looking at her trusting face how could I say “If there’s a tie break I’m making a run for it” I awarded net cords, lets, in, not ups, out, foot faults, game set and match without arguments from any one. I was hero and went home very relieved. 88

Kriss Akabusi he is a good bloke. One man stands out from those two grim years. Kriss Akabusi he was a famous International Athlete and we became good friends, he liked to use my outside line in the medical centre to phone his wife in Germany. Kris showed me how to bypass the military phone system and phone anywhere in the world.

Not that I did, Honest.

Kriss Akabusi, England & Army Physical Training Corps. 89

Chapter 43: Territorial Army T.A. 1985 205 General Hospital it can’t be as far north as Manchester? Of course it wasn’t. It was in Scotland. I had been promoted to Staff Sergeant and was to report to 205 General Hospital in Glasgow. My post was in Edinburgh as what the Army call a P.S.I. or Permanent Staff Instructor. The Edinburgh detachment consisted of one hundred and thirty members of the Territorial Army. I soon learned my job title didn’t matter, I was, during the week, responsible for every post in the unit, Chief Clerk, in charge of the stores, purchasing food, in short if I didn’t do it no-one would. I had to learn many new skills quick. My staff consisted of a driver and a clerk both full time and living in the top of the building was a wonderful lady-caretaker,

. Bunty (in picture) the Caretaker was my rock; Bunty did my washing, ironing and fed me. There was huge cock-up at Christmas, which of course, I was blamed for but otherwise life wasn’t too bad. I meet Leslie K who was a good sort and she deserved better. XXXX 90

The previous incumbent of my post had liked a drink and only popped in to check the mail, now and again. They had never seen a newly promoted Staff Sergeant before and just turning up in uniform clean and tidy was enough to impress them and being, ex Rhyl, apprentice college, drill, weapons, recruit instructor and as fit as a butchers dog. They thought I could walk on water but it wasn’t cold enough. So of course, I couldn’t. Henry Kissinger could not have succeeded, Glasgow contained the Main Head Quarters and I was given instructions from H.Q. each Friday. “Staff when they come in on Sunday make sure they do this that and the other.” So on Saturday I would work on lesson plans to give to the Officers and Senior Ranks to teach their subjects. On Sunday they would, report for their day’s training and after a parade, (I was teaching the Junior Officers how to inspect the troops and I was teaching the troops drill and how to do their kit.) After parade I organised an ‘O’ group to pass on Glasgow’s instructions. We don’t do what Glasgow says we ignore them. Glasgow hates Edinburgh and vice versa. Monday the Major from Glasgow called “What did you do on Sunday?” I informed him of our Itinerary. I told you Staff, Blah, Blah. After each weekend, the same thing happened. 91

Chapter 44: Pass me that KNIFE! Once a month the whole unit would take over a small camp in the middle of no-where and we had organised mayhem. I always went to bed early on the Friday night as Saturday, was hard work and getting pissed on Friday would not help. At about 0200hrs in the next room I heard one of my fellow instructors having a good time with one of the female officers. I stuck my head under the covers, I’m not a prude as the readers might have guessed, but some things are best not heard. “Pass me that fucking knife,” he shouted! My Brain registered interest, horror, curiosity and indecision all at once! I had to think and act quickly! Quick as a flash I made my decision and I put my head back under the pillow. The next morning I waited until I heard him go to breakfast and had a quick look in his room. Good no body, no blood and I went to the mess. I asked him if anything was wrong and related what I had overheard.

“Sorry” he said “I couldn’t get her boots off, I needed a knife to cut her boot laces.” I found Scots didn’t like the English at all? I was in a pub on ‘The Royal Mile in Edinburgh’ on a Thursday after our weekly drill night. As usual, I was in civvies and the rest were still in uniform, mainly girls (nothing changes) but these two blokes heard my English accent and saw my Barbour jacket, essential in Scotland even in the summer. These 92

two yobs wanted to beat me up and things looked very unpleasant. Suddenly, I was surrounded by a ring of steel, well five female soldiers to be exact. “You bastards leave him alone” they shouted “And Fuck off” and they did. I, of course was ashamed, to be protected by a bunch of women. Not really, I didn’t mind at all, Thanks girls XXXXX Annual Camp was two weeks in Germany and I remember the overnight boat trip. Four hundred drunken squaddies, mainly women, having a great, but rowdy, time in the main bar. The other passengers sat with their mouths open. Say one thing for the Jocks they know how to have a good time. The night culminated in every one forming a circle and singing “New York, New York” as the noisy multitude sang the chorus holding hands, they all came into the centre. How did that ferry not capsize? There was, huge cock up on rations. The chef had ordered the rations whilst in Scotland for delivery to our camp in Germany. She thought when ordering, the form was referring to pounds, but in Germany they only dealt in Kilograms. Result was three Lorries turned up. She had ordered enough food for a month, Oops! Before, I served with the T.A. I had a pretty jaundiced View of them but not now! They are great people.

I am proud to say I served with them. 93

Chapter 45: Mr Poole “My girls do not shoot guns”1987 After two years, I was promoted to Warrant Officer and posted to Aldershot as the Company Sergeant Major of the Cambridge Military Hospital, a proud moment. From marrying Pam and taking my career seriously, I had gone from private soldier to Sergeant Major in eleven years but I still look back and don’t regret a thing I did until that time in my life. On my arrival in Edinburgh, I’d got a bloody nose from the T.A. ladies for treating the female soldiers more gently than the men. The women in Scotland told me, in no uncertain terms, they wished to be treated as equals “We do everything the men do Staff!” I learned my lesson and always tried to be even handed. I have enormous respect for women that don’t ‘PICK

AND CHOOSE WHEN THEY WANT TO BE EQUAL’

but most women do! Ironic isn’t it that I got into trouble from the matron at the Cambridge Hospital for the exact opposite. When attending the ranges for training, the men fired their guns and the women were there to learn how to make weapons safe. “Can we have a go?” they asked and of course, I was impressed with their enthusiasm. Placing a male soldier behind each female, who wished to fire a gun, to ensure safety, I allowed them to fire a few rounds off. (They loved it) The next day the matron sent for me “Mr Poole my girls do not fire guns” she said “they’re nurses not Soldiers”.

My card was marked, and women never forget. 94

My entire career had been leading up to my present position and I was happy, life was good! Pam and I lived in a lovely house, Pam dropped me off outside my office each morning and called in for me each night for the short journey home. Pam, who loved kids had become a qualified ‘Health Visitor’ and earned about the same as me. I was well thought of and Warrant Officer Class One on the cards and perhaps a commission? This would allow me to stay until I was fifty-five and retire on a good pension instead of an ‘Other Ranks’ pension which is only O.K. I was still extremely fit and did the unit’s fitness test as one of my many duties. I was tasked by the new Commanding Officer to organise ‘adventure training. This had never been done before and though I say so myself, thanks to my brilliant organisation, it went very well.

The Cambridge Military Hospital. Arrow is pointing to my my office. 95

Me and Cilla on TV, Surprise, Surprise. 1988

Chapter46: Surprise Surprise! I was a member of my local conservative club and a friend organised a coach trip to see ‘Surprise Surprise’ with Cilla Black. Unbeknown to me the organisers had requested a photographer for the show. Photography being my hobby I’d been duly volunteered. I smelt a rat, as when we arrived I was led to an end seat, so it would be easy for me to go forward to the stage, at the right time. Cilla announced that a family who had six children, that had all grown up and all joined the R.A.F. The consequence of this was that mum and dad had never had all the kids back together, at the same time. Cilla’s team had managed to achieve this organisational feat. My job after talking to Cilia for, what seemed ages was to take the photo of this reunion. A camera, just like mine appeared and I went into action, but out of camera shot were about twenty professionals doing the same task. The worst part of all this was, for about three months everyone I met said “Surprise Surprise”, after a week this became very irritating indeed, as I had to smile and pretend to enjoy the joke. 96

Simon my lovely son and me 1989

Chapter 47: A Baby? I awoke one morning and Pam said, “Don’t panic but I’m think I’m pregnant” I gave her a hug but in truth didn’t know what to think. Pam and I had been told that, when pushing a car in the snow, Pam had damaged her insides and a baby was unlikely. Pam was desperate for a child. I was more ambivalent. I still didn’t like being around kids but of course people always say, “It’s different when it’s your own” which is what I hoped. Pam got rounder and of course, sex stopped. Yes, I know what the books say. Lick into shape, In olden days people seeing a bear with its new cub saw a shapeless bundle of fur. Mommy bear would lick the cub and sure enough, it would turn into a little bear. They believed she had ‘licked it’ into shape.

Pam became a mum and my whole world was in turmoil. The first sign of things to come was Pam named him ‘Simon Thomas Poole’ without me having any say! Thomas is her father’s name. Most men do not have much say in the decoration of the family home and I was no exception. I didn’t care about the house decor but it seemed to be unfair to leave me out of this important decision? Simon arrived and I felt cast aside, apparently most men feel like this. I tried to be understanding but Pam was my rock and best friend and lover. I felt adrift and an unnecessary in my own home. Pam was oblivious to my unease and suffering. Simon and Pam only seemed to need each other. Most men like to feel needed and I was no exception. I started to look outside the home and began going to the sergeant’s mess each night for a pint and a game of snooker, of course the inevitable happened. Chrissie initiated, the friendship, and I was flattered, she was a thirty something a single Sergeant and knew the score, outside the Mess it was Sir. Chrissie filled, a need in me, to be loved, but she knew she would only ever be, my ‘bit on the side’ I’d made this very clear. I was convinced Pam would get over being obsessed with our new baby and life would return to normality. We had moved to a posh house by now, on the other side of town. Life should have been good but I was miserable and lonely.

But things were about to get a lot worse! 98

Chapter 48: Guilty or innocent no one cared! Returning from two weeks leave my Sergeant informed me the personnel officer wanted to see me urgently. I reported to his office, to be informed that a female staff sergeant had made a serious complaint against me. Staff Reynolds had written a long complaint that ’I had been, sexually harassing her for about two years’. I sat down and tried to take in this information. A few months earlier, I’d had no choice but to discipline Reynolds, this was not done lightly because of her rank, but because of her stupidity. She had given me no option. Let me explain……. Friday night before going home one of my duties, was to brief the duty weekend sergeants and inform them of events they may have to deal with. This I did, without boring you with details, I clearly stated if the ‘ALERT STATE’ goes up phone me at my home and I will come in and organise a guard roster.(The alert state going up meant that the hospital would require guards at each entrance) Reynolds was the duty sergeant on the Sunday and she didn’t ring me. On my arrival on Monday morning, it became clear; the alert state had gone up on her watch. She had failed to inform me and I sent for her and asked her “Why had she not called me?” I had clearly told her to on the previous Friday. I expected her to give some excuse, I forgot or some such thing. I would have awarded her an extra duty and that would be an end to the matter. She just grinned at me and said, “It’s not in my book” (they were all given a book outlining their duties) 99

She, of course was right, to call me was not in the book, “Don’t you remember me telling you Friday?” I asked, amazed that a senior rank could act in this way. “It was not in the book so I didn’t call you” she insisted, the answer was accompanied by another grin, which didn’t help matters. “Staff, I’ll ask you one more time or you’re giving me no choice,” again the same result. I told her to wait outside and went to seek advice, from the female personnel officer, Capt. Marie Ellis. I explained the situation and said, “I’ll have to charge her if she maintains this nonsense”, she agreed, I had no choice. I returned to my office and called her in “Staff, I’ll give you one last chance”, I even told her, “Apologise and say you forgot and you will get an extra duty and this matter will end here and now”. To my complete astonishment, she restated, “It wasn’t in the book so I didn’t”. At least there was no grin this time; I think it was starting to dawn on her that her behaviour was unacceptable. “Staff you give me no choice be here tomorrow morning in your best kit, at eight thirty”. I informed the female personnel officer and she organised for her to be in front of the matron the next morning. The next morning Reynolds arrived and my female counter part marched her into the matron’s office, I attended to give evidence, which I did. Open and shut case of ‘disobeying a direct order’ I expected her to receive a fine and bollocking and that would be the end of the matter. I was amazed to find out the matron had dismissed the case, not guilty. I smelled a stitch-up, so I asked to see the 100

matron and asked why, very politely, aware of the politics involved. “Mr Poole when you gave the order you weren’t looking at her so I had no choice but to dismiss the case.” I was right, no sane person would have accepted such a ridiculous excuse, but I could do nothing. A few weeks later she had ‘slept in’ and reported four hours late for duty I, aware how it might look, sent her to the female C.S.M. to deal with it, although it was my responsibility to deal with the matter. I was completely innocent but Reynolds had mentioned my ‘carryings’ on with Chrissie which of course put me in the wrong. Well, having sex with a willing partner is one thing, forcing my-self on someone against her will, was so far from who I was as to be unthinkable. I was sent home to explain to Pam, I didn’t tell her about Chrissie. Because of Reynolds complaint, which I was never allowed to read or defend myself against, the matron, insisted I was moved to Keogh Barracks. My guilt or innocence’s didn’t seem to concern anyone but what mattered was political expediency. In short, the R.A.M.C. had caved to these evil women.

My career was over I was to be moved to a lowly post and forgotten. 101

This was the lowest point in my entire life. Reynolds had her revenge. Just to put what she had done into perspective. I had, in her opinion, insulted her and she had blown my head off with a shotgun. I should have demanded a Court Martial but I was never charged and believed right would prevail if I gave it time. My friend who ran the medical centre (Taff Rich) told me Reynolds had been taking medication, for some time, for a psychiatric disorder. I also found out I wasn’t the first person she had done this to. It didn’t help that with a little investigation her lies would have been laid bare but no one seemed to care! It’s a hard lesson to learn that the guy in the ‘White Hat’ doesn’t always win. Just because you are innocent don’t think you will be found: Not guilty.

My Road to Misogyny had begun, Until this point, in my life, men and women had been cruel or nasty to me in equal amounts but this was new, a woman had used her sex, as a weapon. I started to notice negative things about the fair sex. I realized we men were very vulnerable, to a malicious complaint, which could destroy a man’s life, and the great thing was that, the women can remain anonymous, and there is no smoke without fire. Is there? Men it seems are Guilty unless they can prove they are innocent. Women don’t fight fair. There is no honest punch on the nose as when two men disagree. The wicked knife in the form of an unfounded allegation or the malicious lie is the weapon of choice. Women are much better at lying than men and it’s a lie which is their, Best Weapon. 102

The picture that appeared in Aldershot News that week note I had the money! 1988

Chapter 49: You are getting fat and old Eddie! On a lighter note, before my world fell apart I used to play squash with an old mate, Ron Baker. He had been in the Dental Corps but had left a few years earlier. Ron and I used to like a little bet when we played squash, just a fiver to make it interesting. Ron was faster and younger than I, but quality usually won the day, but not this day. I made an excuse for losing, got a cold, hangover or both. You know the drill. Anything to take the smile off his face; Ron was even more competitive than I, but rather than enjoying his victory he poked me in the chest and said “Eddie, it’s because you’re getting old and fat”. Maybe he was right? Ron went on “Why don’t we play for real money”? I expected Ron to say twenty or fifty pounds but he shocked me by saying a… A THOUSAND POUNDS! 103

To cut a long story short after many phone calls while Ron made chicken noises down the phone, I agreed and we set a date for about three months hence. Ron lost two stone and commenced getting up each morning to receive professional coaching, was I worried? You bet your life I was. We had agreed not to play each other until ‘The Match’ but we met at the Club, about a week before we were due to play. Mind games began, “Ron, you know I’m better than you what makes you think you’ll win?” Was my opening gambit, Ron, not fazed, came back “You’ll go to pieces because of the money.” Not a knockout blow but certainly a standing count,

Maybe Ron was right! Pam, being a midwife, had coached me on breathing exercises; The day arrived I was buzzing with anticipation, diet and timing were important and in order to come out fighting I went to the squash club that morning and hit a ball for an hour. That night the press were there and about sixty people eager to see the match. Usually one needs to be psyched-up but not this time, I was already too high on adrenalin. Pam had been doing her midwife stuff on me and teaching me how to calm down, by deep breathing and I lay in a disused court with the lights off. 1900hrs arrived I walked on to the court ready! Ron appeared in a Gorilla Suit, I wasn’t perturbed by this, as I had my ‘match face on’. Pam, because of nerves had refused to come along and watch. I was on my own. 104

Ron removed the suit and the match began, the Referee was Ron’s coach ‘Alistair’ but I knew he would be fair. Ron won the first three points and I took deep breaths and tried not to panic. I played myself in and began to relax. I played my best match ever and won 9/3, 9/1, and 9/0. I was pleased. Not just with the money but I knew when the chips were down I would produce my best. A question answered.

Ron and I are still friends to this day Except for a cameo appearance in ‘Gulf 1’ I left the Army in 1992. Bitter? You bet your bottom dollar I was! It was some years before I didn’t get angry when I thought about what ‘That Scum Reynolds’ had been allowed to do. I vowed if a woman ever accused me again I would fight her lies to my last breath! Dear Pensioner, after you leave the army, that is what they call you. Then, the Army dispensed with ‘other Ranks at forty. They pay a small pension and give those leaving a tax-free lump sum. They’ve had the best years but to be fair, leaving such an organisation at forty is the healthy option. I witnessed a very sad eviction from the Female Officers Mess at Woolwich, a Colonel who had known no other life had to be forcefully removed from her room after she refused to vacate it on the completion of her service. I believe the Matron had allowed her to stay for an extra six months to allow her time to find suitable accommodation.

Very Sad. 105

Part Two Civvie Street 1992 Chapter 1: I felt like a Right Banker 1992 I got a job in London and became a commuter, I felt like a Banker in my suit on the train into London each day. I looked after a multi tenanted office block near St Pauls. Huge amounts of money going on security, window cleaning and you could retire on what we spent on electricity and lift repairs in just one month. What a miserable life it must be, to spend half your waking hours, travelling to and from your place of work. I kept it up for about a year before coming home one night and announcing I had handed in my notice.

Pam went Mad. Computer accounts So Boring Leaving London was great. Free from all that travelling, but my new job in Aldershot, computer accounts, was so boring. Compensated by being close enough to cycle to work but the bike ride back and forth to work became the highlight of my day. Clearly, this could not be what I should do for the rest of my life. Meeting an old Army friend, I began complaining of the boredom my workdays had become. He was a fellow ex-medic who now drove a taxi in Aldershot. He suggested I drive one of his taxis on a couple of nights a week. So I Did 106

Chapter 2: Worst thing about Driving a Taxi is…... I began to drive his taxi for a couple of nights a week, but only after dark. Most people like me know their way around their hometown but don’t know the names of the roads. I was no exception and it took me six weeks to learn most of them to pass my taxi test/medical and Police check. (C.R.B.) The money was great and I was once more, a round peg in a round hole In short, I was born to be a great Taxi Driver. I was a superb driver, liked chatting to people and was above all ‘nosy’. And Modest! People are fascinating if you get past the predictable “ARE YOU BUSY” stage. Helpful, chatty taxi drivers earn more in tips than the monosyllabic unhelpful taxi driver, which is the norm. Only one problem, I would have to pass my taxi test before going out in daylight. The worst thing about driving a taxi is not the passengers who don’t pay or vomit, these are remarkably few. It’s the ‘Jobs worth’ over the council who over regulate. The council also attracts bullies who regard the rules as an excuse not to apply common sense when making decisions. The second group to look out for is the other taxi drivers. Most of us appreciate that we are not the centre of the known universe. Taxi drivers have no idea of this concept and sincerely believe the world rotates, around them. A few years later, I stood as chairman of the company and had the misfortune to win the election. Suddenly it was like having fifty or sixty wives, no offence ladies but we mortal men find it hard to please one woman let alone over sixty. 107

You will never believe these stories I said at the beginning, I was pronounced above normal in the brains department, and I always thought ‘fooled them’. Driving a taxi I was about to learn how low the average I.Q. was. Being a great, but modest, Taxi Driver I’ve found your road, “Where would you like me to stop?” a simple question. These are my favourite answers: 1. 2. 3. 4.

‘The House with the light on’, They all have lights on. ‘By the Street Light’, There are so many. ‘By the White Van’, Yes there are loads of them. And the Ladies answer “On the left” but point to the right.

One night a drunk beat all these when he said “By the red light” sure enough, there was a red light; it was on a bike, which was moving. I followed the bike for a hundred yards before he started calling me names. L.O.L. Never overestimate the vocabulary of the younger generation. One night a young couple got in. He was your standard monosyllabic shaved head type and she was a bubbly talkative type. She began to tell me, aged only eighteen, how she was running her mother’s hairdressing salon whilst her mum was in Spain. “How precocious” I said. “You saying my girlfriend shags around?” he asked “No that promiscuous” I tried to explain but he said “I’ll punch your head-in when we stop” Thankfully he then went back to sleep. “He literally bit my head off” she said, Some young people are beyond hope.

108

Four very young people got into my cab, two of each. Young man to girl, “When we get to your house have you got any beer?” he stumbled over her name so I concluded they’d just met. She confirmed she had loads of beer at home. Clearly, on to a good thing he said “What about sex then?” Yes she confirmed “I can’t go to sleep without a good fuck!” The young chap clearly worried by this answer asked, “Here you’re not one of them necrophilliac’s?” there was a hushed silence. They all knew he had said something stupid but were not sure what. I leaned over and helpfully said, “You mean Nymphomaniac”. “Oh yes that’s what I meant” I bet all four have kids today. My best tip ever, in about 1995, I was, given a job to meet a jet at Farnborough airport and take the passengers into Central London. On my arrival I bowed and scraped as the situation required but was somewhat taken aback when it was explained, his Highness would travel in the stretched limo, his body guards in the normal Mercedes and could I bring up the rear with the luggage? I was well and truly put in my place. My London Cab, which I was so proud of, was fit only for the suitcases. Well a job is job as they say and I loaded up and followed the convoy into London. On our arrival, I carried the suitcase into the posh house and returned to my cab. One of the bodyguards followed me back to my taxi, I thought just to make sure I left with-out nicking anything but no, he asked me the cost of the fare, “£45 quid Boss” I replied “but don’t worry it’s on account” I added. 109

(The office would send an invoice and pay me later) “That’s not much,” he said as he produced a wad of notes, which would have choked a horse. He peeled seven tens and said, “Have a nice day” I did thank-you. In Aldershot, we have three garrison churches, from the days when we had a large army. Approaching the two churches on Queens Ave. “Here” he said “Driver what are them two churches?” the driver explained and pointed to the other one in the distance. My mate is getting married in the garrison church he said and asked a reasonable question. “How will I know which one to go to?” “Is he C. of E. or R.C.?” asked the driver. This question clearly puzzled him and he stated “No he’s in the Para’s”. Yes before you ask, plenty of people have done various sexual acts in the back of my cab. Both men and women have offered me sex on many occasions. I never accept, as besides the moral question, one I am sober and two if they will sleep with a total stranger, God knows what I may catch, and of course, the next day she might shout rape. One night a middle aged woman, whilst paying at the driver’s window, casually reached in and gave my ‘man bits’ a friendly squeeze, The police would have laughed in my face if I’d bothered to report it and I did what intelligent people have always done, smile and move on. On another night, again a middle age lady, whilst paying at the front passenger window slammed the rear door of my London Cab, (the door on the old ones opens forwards) the 110

door ripped off her wrap around skirt and she stood there in just a blouse and knickers. Instead of opening the door and releasing her skirt she began a ‘Tug of War’ with it and of course the skirt was having none of it and remained stuck. I, seeing the poor woman’s distress, (by now she had started crying.) ran round the cab and holding her round her waist from the back, opened the rear door to release the skirt. If the police had arrived at this point, there is no doubt I would have been immediately arrested, as my position, at three in the morning, with a very upset woman in a secluded spot would have looked very dodgy. But, how can it be? You take four or five nice people out at eight o’clock and three or four hours later you pick up a bunch of lunatics? One night a ‘good’ looking lady and her friends went to Alton for their usual Saturday night out. They were regulars. This particular night on the way home she was totally out of control removing her lower garments decided to ‘MOON’ any car than drove behind us. I wouldn’t have minded but she was stood on the leather seats whilst keeping her high heels on. Most of the young people I pick up are the sad reflection of our sad society: Me! Me! Me! The trouble with instant gratification is it just isn’t quick enough. I’ve baths deeper than most of young people I meet! Not all. 111

What is it with women and shoes? Men being less intelligent buy a pair of shoes they can walk in. Women buy a pair of shoes judged on looks alone. You see so many staggering home at two o’clock in the morning carrying a pair of shoes that have crippled them all night. I’ve seen it all in one way or another, well I thought I had until one day a woman got in to my cab, with two kids, some hand luggage and a bird in a cage. “Moving house love?” I enquired, “No” she said, “Just going back to my first husband for the weekend” being surprisingly frank, she added “He won’t pay me my money if I don’t sleep with him at the weekends”. I saw the flaw in this arrangement and asked, “doesn’t your present husband mind?” “No” she said “He understands’ we need the money”. If you think, you’re out there! Drive a cab for a year or two and you will change your mind. I could write a book just on Taxi stories. I was complaining to a girlfriend of mine, how terrible the girls of today behave. She called me a sexist pig. Now she drives a cab. They’re terrible she agrees and their language! “They are awful” as Dick Emery used to say.

Me in my cab, taking, some of those, horrible, little people for a charity day out

112

No money-changed hands that day I fixed their car but the hugs and kisses were the highlight of my Christmas. I always work Christmas day, as when young Christmas was the most miserable time, if like me you had no family and therefore no presents. Well, driving my Cab to Woking one Christmas Day I spied a Mini clearly broken down after going through a large puddle. Having had many Mini-cars over the years I knew at once what had happened. Water had found its way into the distributor, a very easy fix. The ladies clearly had no idea what to do so I stopped, took the distributor cap off and wiped away the moisture. “Try that,” I said and just like the movies, the engine burst into life. Hugs and kisses followed “You’re an angel” the woman cried. I earned over seven hundred pounds that day but I can only remember helping those two ladies get back in time for their dinner. (The seven hundred quid was only a tenner if asked by tax man)

Young women today appear to have no behavioural boundaries set for them and as a result have no idea how to act towards other people. An example of this happened to me some years ago. I was sitting in my old London Cab. (A five seater) A very drunken young lady approached and asked me to take her and her five friends to Camberley. Sorry I said, “I’m only allowed five passengers by law”. She responded “You fucking open that door and take us or else” I shut the window and tried to ignore her, she retaliated to this, perceived insult, by kicking my passenger door in. I jumped out and ran round the cab to prevent any more damage to my vehicle. Remember when as a child we paid to see a ‘Tattooed Lady’? Now there is one on every street in Britain. Fashion a cruel master.

113

I got between my cab and her. She dealt with this by kicking me and slapping my face very hard, this was no movie and it hurt. So even in pain and fearing for my cab I still didn’t give her what she richly deserved which was a good smack bottom. After her friends dragged her away the question came into my mind. When is a man, allowed to defend himself from abuse, by a woman, in today’s Britain? Today it seems the answer is never! Apparently, men in Britain today if physically attacked by a woman, are advised, not to defend themselves ‘the courts don’t like it’

Driving my taxi one night, I overheard a woman telling her friend “if he pisses me off again I’m going to say he raped me” (evil cow!) His face would be all over the media but she would remain anonymous even if the truth emerged. His life would be in ruins but she would be free to carry out this atrocity again and again, supported by the sisterhood. There must be consequences for spiteful accusations or will it become necessary for men to ‘video each sexual encounter’ to prevent malicious accusations? I never allow her near my taxi and never will

I only ‘Drive a Taxi’ to get me a fresh appetite for being alone, Nearly’ Byron 114

Chapter 3: Politics a Dirty Business. Most people go into politics for the right reasons however, as in all occupations some are there for the wrong reasons. Greed and ego to name two reasons why a person should not be selected as a candidate. I had been interested in politics for most of my adult life. Dora had started educating me in this area with all those chats in the wing. I have always voted Tory, not because anyone else had, but a firm belief in low taxation and small government and only spending the money collected in taxes. Scargill, Red Robbo and Jimmy Knapp coloured my view of the left as a young man as I saw these ‘left wing’ people willing to destroy this country, not for the good of their members but their left wing political dogma. I’ve always hated left wing politicians, as they spout their left wing rubbish. I understand and respect that point of view, when it is sincerely held but I can’t forgive the hypocrisy of the ‘Champagne Socialists’. Who say one thing in public and of course do another in private. I don’t need to give examples as we all see the top of the labour party as good examples but go further down and you will see dirty, grubby people, of all parties, on the make. Sorry but just writing about these people makes me angry. Some, like our local Tory M.P. just don’t get it! We the people are angry about MPs and Peers taking public money and getting away with it! There is never an Oliver Cromwell around when you need one. 115

Happy Times Ann Widdicombe’s bash in Aldershot

My Son Simon man next to him is a Local MP. I hope he doesn’t catch anything

The Human Rights Act is nonsense! We normal people are incredulous; surely, the moral majority have rights to. It cannot be beyond the halfwits that inhabit the Westminster bubble, to amend it thus.

‘Where the rights of the individual, conflict with the rights of the many, the rights of the many will prevail.

“The trouble with socialism is that sooner or later you run out of other people’s money” Margaret Thatcher, So true! 116

Chapter 4: We are going to need a bigger Hall. 1998 After a couple of attempts I got elected as a Tory Councillor in the town of Aldershot, a very proud moment, perhaps now I could make life better for the people in my little corner of the ‘World’. As soon as elected, I heard a strange phrase ‘Foyer Project’ this was usually accompanied by the ‘shush’ gesture. Well I don’t do quiet and learned that councillors from all groups were intending to build a home for ‘troubled young people from all over the country’ in a nice part of Aldershot called ‘Manor Park’. I won’t go into the politics and why I thought it was an awful idea, but if the local people found out I was sure they wouldn’t be happy. I quickly made sure they did find out and yes, they weren’t happy, not happy at all. I arranged a ‘Public Meeting’ and invited all parties to put their point of view. I contacted the Police and asked for a police presence to give the meeting a little more gravitas? You will be lucky to get twenty people, an old timer told me, and denied my request, the police like taxi drivers, have seen it all. The night of the meeting arrived, they came in cars wheel chairs, on crutches and the line of people walking up the hill to the Scout Hut was impressive. By this time I suddenly had the support of my fellow councillors in Aldershot, funny that.

117

The hall could hold about three hundred and it was full but still they continued to arrive and some had to stand at the back of the hall or outside. The Chairman opened the meeting and called each interested party to put the case for the development. I had not been considered, worthy of a seat on the stage so I sat in the crowd. I won’t go through the questions and answers but it was obvious the locals were far from convinced by the end of the meeting. I stood up and turned to address the crowd. “Who the hell are you?”a man shouted, as I’d had my name in the press most weeks and my name on all the leaflets, Andrea and Shaneen had delivered, I assumed wrongly they would know who I was. They did know who I was but didn’t know what I looked like. As I introduced myself, a huge cheer went up. We real men don’t cry in public but a tear of emotion trickled down my cheek that night or maybe it was caused by a bit of dust. Well the project never was built and Manor Park is still a nice part of Aldershot.

Local Democracy in action, wonderful.

In the House of Lords, there is only one red leather bench, which has arms. This is because in the old days a bishop fell asleep and fell off his bench. This was considered ‘bad form’ (not, sleeping they all do that, the falling bit) so arms were added to prevent embarrassment. Sorry, am I the only one who finds these facts interesting?

118

I enjoyed local politics as driving my taxi, like most jobs, was boring. Politics gave my brain the stimulus I craved; I can honestly say that I have never suffered from an inflated ego whilst I take the job very serious I never take myself so. I remember one ‘Jobs worth’ from the council berated a driver for having an advert on his cab. She was not happy that some of the letters were on the glass of his cab. The advert was for a public house called ‘Tiffany’s. “You are not allowed letters on the glass” she announced, “the TIF which was on the glass must be removed, at once”, in that self-righteous, selfimportant, way these people go about their daily business. Have you seen the flaw in this plan reader? Yes, well spotted, the driver would drive around with the word Fany’s in large writing on his cab. When this was pointed out to her she withdrew the command but with very with little grace Don’t those pompous types really get up your nose?

I do not wish to give the impression that I consider all council staff a pain. Most are nice people doing a fine job. Some of the Senior Officers are some of the finest people I’ve had the privilege of knowing.

However, it seems the least able, are always the nastiest. 119

For me I get most pleasure in doing that small thing for someone and I remember a phone call from a lady, in a wheel chair, who lived near a park. “I used to be able to sit by my window and look out over the park but now the bushes have grown so tall I can’t see the park any more”. She went on to say, “The Council used to trim the bushes regularly but now they don’t” I got the council to prune the bushes and two days later, she phoned me to say thank you, which was nice of her.

You’re very welcome Madam. On the subject of saying thank-you, I never let lady drivers out at junctions. No not because I’m a ‘Sexist-Pig’ but it’s because they don’t wave a thank you. I know dear reader you always do, so I’ll always make you an exception. And while I’m on about women drivers DAMN THE SCHOOL RUN! I know men drive kids to school as well, but at least they can park properly.

I can hear the knives being sharpened from here. L.O.L.

Shake a leg or Show us a leg. On board naval ships, in the olden days, prostitutes would sleep in the men’s quarters and of course, when it was time to get up, the duty man would go around the sleeping quarters waking the men, shouting, “Show us a leg or Shake a leg”. From viewing the exposed leg, they could ascertain whether it was a man or a woman. Simples.

120

Chapter 5: Snatching defeat from the ‘Jaws of Victory’. I enjoyed my politics and became chairman of the group, no not the Leader. My job was to chair our group meetings and as they were a lively bunch, I had to be on my toes. I was also Chairman of the Development Committee. I loved the job although it required about an hour or two of my time each day. Well things were going well and a place on the cabinet might be in the offing in the not too distant future. As always when something in my life is going well disaster strikes and this would be no exception. As I said by this time I was chairman of planning and a colleague asked me about his relative’s development. I didn’t know the answer to his question but I knew a man who would. I got the answer, sadly for him it wasn’t the one he wanted. On the 18 Oct 2003 a friend of this man asked me if I could help with the planning application. I reiterated the advice given to me by the principal planning officer. Apologising, I explained the rules concerning the particular development are very clear. He frowned and he poked me in the chest and said “We’ll remember this at selection time” and they did. I was the only one up for interview for my seat so it should have been a formality. I attended the Selection committee meeting at my local conservative club. I was informed by the neutral chairman afterwards “Clearly it had been prearranged because as soon as you left the room they decided you were going to stand in 121

another ward”. The other ‘ward’ they had decided on, was almost unwinnable for a Tory. One of his fellow ‘Lodge Members’ was installed to fight in my ward. To make matters worse they had deliberately delayed the selection meeting until it was too late for me to switch wards. Vindictive? You bet. The sad thing was I couldn’t have done anything for him even if I’d wished to. I will open a bottle of champagne when I hear news of his death but it seems only the good die young. There is only one question I have, why do people prefer a guy even if he’s dodgy and corrupt rather than an honest man of integrity who’s a bit blunt and direct? Perhaps the answer is in the question. All I know a corrupt man ended my involvement in Local Politics. I’d like to think I had something to offer my local community.

Bob from the, Monster Raving Loony Party

Don’t take yourself so seriously. Bob and I don’t

122

Chapter 6: The Cave. Understanding women? I know no man could possibly understand a woman; they are full of contradictions and prone to mood swings and never say directly what the problem is, mainly because they’re not sure themselves, “But if you loved me you would know”. Logic never gets in the way when a woman argues which is why they always win. To understand the behaviour of men and women better we must travel back in time to when ‘mankind’ lived in rough dwellings or caves. The macho men would go out to hunt. This a dangerous but necessary task, the whole family would starve so failure was not an option. The man must be single minded and focused if he doesn’t wish to become dinner for a predator. This hunter must be able to think in three dimensions in order to cut off his faster running prey. That’s why men can park. L.O.L. Those women who had no children and were athletic would probably go along with the hunt. Talking too much, for the man, would clearly not be an asset whilst hunting, so to this day men tend to talk less than women do. I know you know one who does. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the women would be busy sitting around the campfire cooking dinner, chatting to the other women and taking care of the kids. Chatting and maintaining the relationships, which would play an important part in keeping the family/tribe together in short multitasking. 123

The man back from the hunt would need to rest and recover from the intense concentration and effort required for a successful hunt. The men not inclined to hunt would stay around tending the fire, repairing the accommodation and generally being useful. This team was so efficient. Humans took over the whole world. So don’t knock it! Breasts are amazing. “We all know that” says every man reading this. Women don’t understand what all the fuss is about after all they’re just lumps of flesh with a nipple on. Men have nipples as well and some men even have ‘man boobs? (Yuck) Ladies it’s not your breasts, which acts as a magnet for men’s eyes but your cleavage. Women would only have breasts when feeding her young back when we lived in the trees but when we came to live in caves and started to walk upright a problem became apparent. Men could no longer see women’s naughty bits, which were important as these bits become engorged with blood, just like a man’s penis, when ready for sex. By wearing clothes and learning to walk upright, these bits were hidden from view. The continuance of the human race depends on men and women having sex and babies. Mother Nature came to the rescue and women’s breasts became a full time feature on a woman’s chest. Men were very happy to see, once again, a pair of buttocks on a women’s chest for us to ogle. We men never seem to get tired of looking. Women then started to paint their lips red and us men, without needing to understand why, found breasts fascinating. Sorry girls we just can’t help it. 124

As school kids, boys are fascinated by the changes which take place in girls and the game begins as even the lads who don’t care are forced, by peer pressure, to comment and I’ve noticed some men carry this behaviour all their lives. Ladies does a blowjob make more sense now? Jeremy Vine had ‘breast feeding as the topic of the day on his programme on radio 2. A woman called in to say, “I find it creepy to have my baby suckling at my breast they’re for my boyfriend”. Vine, being a nauseating P.C. sycophant, did not challenge this amazing lack of logic. Talk about turning facts on their head, but women are very good at this, as every man knows to his cost. Women can turn any mistake they make into their partners fault. You know I’m right Ladies

But we love you anyway. Jeremy Vine played my favourite record today, shit it’s hard to hate a man who likes, Neil Young’s, ‘Only love can break your Heart’ Men and women are incompatible when it comes to sex and both have to compromise. Armed with a little knowledge and a bit of technology, these differences can be overcome. Women were designed to have sex with more than one partner, no I’m not talking about threesomes, I’m saying, that if she wishes, immediately having had sex with one man she can continue with another. This concept will disgust some readers but in terms of evolution we have not been walking upright long. Further proof of this is the shape of a man’s penis. The peculiar ‘bell’ shape is to pull the other guys sperm out. Don’t pull that face madam. 125

Chapter 7: Overcoming nature Well I don’t know who came up with the first penis substitute, but I bet it was a long time ago. However, in the modern era, Anne Summers came to our rescue. An exgirlfriend of mine attended the usual party and overheard the usual comments about how this sex toy, is much better than their partner is, or for that matter, men in general. Well, a couple of days after we split up, a number of these toys, and other items, I won’t go into details here, (just what had she got planned?) were delivered by the girl who ran the parties. My subsequent girl friends have been very grateful to her. I have always been up for whatever gives my girlfriend pleasure. Within reason. Understanding the shortcomings of the male equipment…. Once used it requires to be ‘left on charge’ for a while, just like your phone. Knowing this allows one to appreciate a little help in this area. These batteries included thingies, are a great help but you have to know each other quite well before suggesting their use. Some of these things are huge but guys don’t take it personal, I’ve never had a girlfriend make the unkind comparison or observation, maybe they are just too kind or perhaps women do understand men. Women marry a man, who is less than perfect, and somehow demand perfection after the big day. This lack of logic causes so many marriages to flounder and fail. 126

Chapter 8: Leaving Pamela with Honor. There is no one day, or even one moment, that convinces a person it’s time to move on, but a slow realisation that we are unhappy and that which is making us unhappy is not about to change. Leaving the army had been relatively easy for me. I was glad to get away from the constant reminder of failure which I regarded my last three years in the army to be. The guys I worked with were great and they did me proud having a small function in my honour on my last night in the Mess. To the R.A.M.C. brass hats I was either someone who should have been given a Court Martial or a guy they had let down badly. Whichever they chose to believe I was not who they wanted to see and I wasn’t surprised when I my last day that no one senior shook my hand and said good-bye. Perhaps Reynolds may not have done what she did if she had realised, how completely, her lies would destroy my career and me, but then she may have had a good laugh every time she thought about me. Who knows? After leaving the Army I should have been very happy, a nice house, car, loyal wife, a bonny bouncing boy plus we were all were in good health and money was no problem.

But, of course I wasn’t.

127

Chapter 9: Many Squaddies don’t. As I said earlier I left, a good job in the city and I couldn’t stand the boring job I’d found in Aldershot, so I became a full time taxi driver. After a few months, I’d bought my own London Cab and a share in a local taxi company. Working long hours brought great rewards and I easily exceeded my Army Pay, which had been about £23,000per year in 1992. Not bad in 1993 and Pam earned about the same, as a Health Visitor. We had successfully transferred to Civvy Street. Prisons are full of ex squaddies. As I said earlier, I had become a spare part in my own home after our lovely son was born and in my loneliness, I turned to work to help me get through this time. Therefore, I drove my London Cab for fourteen/fifteen hours a day. I was either asleep or driving my Taxi. I couldn’t bear to be in the house and life drifted on and I began to think I must leave and perhaps start a new life with someone else. You haven’t said much about your son I hear. We are programmed to love them and believe me I do, but how can he be so different to me? I’m very proud of him because he gained a 2.1 at University and is going on to do his Masters but of course I wasn’t asked to attend the ceremony to hand successful students their degrees. In spite of me trying to bribe him with a fifty pound note he still couldn’t have a drink with me on my birthday and why couldn’t he like playing sport and riding a bike like me? Simon and I do enjoy playing Chess together and I like to think that in time he may drop round for a game and a chat. 128

Chapter 10: Then I meet Delilah. April 1994/2001 Suddenly this woman came in to my life and I was needed and desired again, a feeling which had been missing from my life for the last four or five years. Delilah and I met whilst fighting an election. She had been willing to walk the streets putting leaflets through doors and doing the other election stuff one had to do to win. Delilah, so I thought was happily married to a soldier, who I had never met. Of course I noticed she was very attractive but I would never have initiated the first move and when she did, I was shocked and enormously flattered.

Could this lovely looking woman find me attractive? Clearly, she did as on several days she appeared at my home on one pretext or another. Men don’t do subtle, I was no different, and of course I didn’t want to commit a sexual faux pas. I’ve always been very nervous since the Reynolds thing. I never make a move until absolutely sure there is no chance of misreading signals and even better if she makes the first move but women seldom do no matter what ‘Loose Women ‘on the telly would have us believe. How is it in 2010 in Britain, women are paid to slag off men on air and men are sacked for being sexist off air? When the man was asked, what he thought of ‘Iron man’ and ‘Iron woman? He replied, “Iron man’ is a super hero and ‘Iron woman’ is a simple instruction to the wife”. Girls release the dogs of war. LOL

129

Pam was away on one of her many visits to her hometown, Newport, Gwent. Delilah came round and expressed an interest in my snooker room. Women rarely wish to see that sort of thing but if that is what madam wished that is what madam got. By now, even I could feel the sexual tension between us. Delilah was wearing a very low fronted top and as she leaned over the snooker table, I could clearly see her ample bosoms. Well most of you would be right. Of course, I did and it didn’t last long. For me a drought is a month and I think at the time it had been at least two years. But the dam had burst. In the next few weeks, we must have set a record even by new lover’s standards. I would see her in the afternoon and again early evening and again last thing before I went home for the night, even then she would ask if I could come back. But ‘reader’ I think you have the idea by now. At this point, I thought she just wanted someone to have sex with until her husband came back and I of course was ‘over the moon’ to, once again have, someone I enjoyed being with. This arrangement was convenient, wonderful and just what I needed but make the most of it Eddie because something this good won’t last. But it did, for several years in fact.

Me in My B.M.W. 840 csi I’ve spent thousands on cars and women over the years, I’ve wasted the rest.

130

Chapter 11: Leaving Pam with Honor. I was leaving Pam at this time as I saw no improvement with her obsession with Simon and I thought; if they don’t need me I might as well go. I walked away leaving Pam with a large house and small mortgage with very few years left to pay, and all the furniture. About a couple of years, after I left, Pam sold the family home, giving me nothing, and moved to Wales taking Simon, my son, with her. It was few years later that she returned to Aldershot, having been out of the housing market for over three years whilst she lived in her mum’s house. Pam missed about a £100,000 increase in the value of the family home. A Financial disaster. Before splitting up, Pam, my wife, and I had discussed buying a very nice house in Aldershot. Delilah liked the house Pam and I were thinking of buying, and when we decided not to, Delilah made it her home. After a time, well quite a few times actually. I bought a small flat round the corner from my family home, Delilah surprised me because even when her husband returned she still found time to come and see me and she spent most afternoons in my flat. Delilah by this time had left her job and I had lent her the money to buy a share in our taxi company. Delilah, like me, was now a professional taxi driver. The Heart has no shopping list, this woman filled all the corners of my being and I didn’t even notice others. 131

In the beginning, it had been simple lust and convenience but it grew and grew. Sadly, I had met and come to like Delilah’s husband and I had lunch with the two of them on many, many occasions but it was too late. I was hopelessly in love with her by now and I realised I’d never been this much in love, in my entire life. I had been out with women that are more attractive, I had been out with women more intelligent but whilst she was not clever, she made up for this with loads of common sense and a willingness to learn. Delilah’s capacity for work was amazing to behold. She was earthy, but had the pretensions of middle class, which is where I saw myself in the social order. Delilah had many shortcomings if you examined her bit by bit, but like a Ferrari, she was more than the sum of her parts, as Jeremy Clarkson would say. I loved her with a deep love, which I never thought I had the capacity. This love never diminished and as the time of her arrival drew near, even after several years, I would feel my pulse start to race. The passion in all my other love affairs had diminished in time and I thought that’s just how it always is between a man and a woman. My love for this woman did not lessen nor did my passion, for her, fade. Delilah had an amazing ability. She would tell a lie until she believed it herself and you, who knew the truth, started to doubt your own memory or sanity. Delilah would have made a great secret agent. I tell you things like this to show how real my love was. I loved her deeply for whom she was, not for whom I wished her to be. 132

Delilah lied not just with simple words but also in deeds. We would get up to the things lovers always have, on trains, in health clubs, golf bunkers and secret week-ends away but later I would be having coffee or a meal with Delilah and her husband she would be staring at him attentively with love and adoration. When the three of us were together, her poor husband would be completely oblivious to Delilah’s real relationship with me, as indeed would any other onlooker. Amazing, but somehow, I was not jealous of him but found that puzzling because if any other man went near her I had to try hard not to punch his lights out. Many years drifted by and looking back, I should have been happy and contented with my lot, after all I got to make love to the woman I adored at least once on most days. I begged Delilah to leave her husband but she liked his money and ‘The illusion of Respectability’ too much to leave him. Their house, which by now had a huge extension built, at enormous cost, became a B&B. Delilah made it clear that she would never leave her husband and I gave up hope and started to think perhaps I should move on. I hate this phrase but I’d found my ‘soul-mate’ but now I must move on.

I did not want to but knew I must! There was one thing, she always charged me by the hour on our many sexual encounters. The hourly rate was fifteen pounds. The money she should have been earning driving her taxi. Delilah was ruthless when at the end of our many rendezvous, collection time came but I didn’t begrudge a penny, though I must have paid her thousands of pounds over the many years we were lovers.

133

Our beloved boys and girls, sadly only my two boys are left now, May 2011

Chapter 12: Bart arrived 1997 Delilah was responsible for another one of my other great loves. She asked me to drive her over to a nearby village called Pirbright to see, a ‘West Highland’ puppy. Delilah chose the smallest and I fell in love with ‘Bart’ who has been my best friend these past fifteen years. The orphan ‘Spike’ joined Bart when two of my friends divorced. Spike is very different to Bart but lovely in his own sweet way and I had to fight hard to keep him because where I live I’m only allowed to have one dog. Dog is a Man’s best friend but diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Says it all really.

134

Barty Boy, trying in vain, to look intelligent.

Spikey Doodle’ keeping watch while the old boy has a sleep No not me ‘BARTY BOY ’ You see we are a modern family as the kids have different sur names

135

Chapter 13: Leaving but not quite going. I knew I must go but found my life empty without the woman I loved. I began to visit singles clubs and even looked on dating sites on line. Meanwhile, Keith, a mate of mine asked me to take him to a singles party in Bracknell. There I met a woman called Claire. I did not find her anywhere near as attractive as Delilah, but I must try to move on. Caught in this dilemma I bounced back and forth both physically and mentally. Give it time I kept telling myself, Claire was academically brilliant but we did not possess the magical chemistry enjoyed by Delilah and I. Frustrated and torn I tried to keep Claire at arm’s length but she was persistent and eventually I allowed her to move in to my house.

Dorothy and Bart sat in my Taxi. Dorothy was my lovely next-door neighbour in Belland Drive Aldershot. The antlers? No ‘Bart’ didn’t seem to mind.

136

Claire kicked my lodger out costing me £300 a month but life was O.K. I knew I would never love her but she was fun and always bought her rounds and you “Can’t always get what you want” as the ‘Rolling Stones’ sang. Delilah and I still walked the dogs each day. I found I enjoyed these walks more than I should as we could chat like old friends, which of course is what we were. Claire and I started to take holidays together and we travelled to many countries. We always got on much better away from the pressure she was under at work and me away from the influence of Delilah. She was also nagging me to sell my house and buy a larger home together. I loved the thought of a nice posh house again. I was worried about Claire’s recent weight gain so against my better judgement I agreed to move to a detached house in a nice part of Farnham. The house and garden had been neglected and I put all my energy into turning the house and garden into a Palace. And I did. When Claire and I were out in China we went into a normal Beijing Pub, or so we thought. After getting our drinks the proprietor lined up about ten girls for Claire to choose one for me, to take upstaires. Claire was expected to pay and wait for me down stairs and then walk home with me arm in arm. Strange custom? But an amazing solution to an age old problem. If I had a mistress I would be happly married as my mate would say. No Ladies I ‘m not advocating introducing that custom here, just relating what I’d seen in a far away land.

No I didn’t, before you ask.

Whilst in Beijing that haunting song ‘There are 9 million bicycles in Beijing’ came out by Katie Melua. Her beautiful voice gives pleasure to many. Quite right too there are millions of bikes there, lovely song lovely lady.

137

Chapter 14: Leaving Claire and Delilah? Living with Claire became more and more unpleasant I chided myself for leaving my little house in Aldershot where I had been happy. When a man and woman fall out in a relationship love or desire, but if you’re lucky both, force you to make up. Claire and I had no such bond. When Claire learned of the relationship that Delilah and I had enjoyed, she could not come to terms with the fact that I had loved Delilah but could never have those feelings for her. Realising the relationship was over, we began to live separate lives within the house and I grew to hate the sound of her car tyres on the gravel drive. She would always be grumpy on her return from her work at Heathrow. I loved the house which I had turned into a beautiful palace by now, though I say so myself. I’ve always been good at seeing possibilities in both houses and gardens but by then I’d had a lot of practice. After a lot of bickering, we agreed a figure and Claire bought me out. I made plans to leave. All this time I had been continuing to walk the dogs with Delilah but I don’t think she had any idea of the strong feeling, that had remained long after our affair ended in 2001 I always tried to act indifferent to her as a woman whilst remaining her friend. I had kept her up to speed with the going on in my little life. It was then she said something. I could not have

responded to more badly if I had a week to work on it. 138

Chapter 15: Men don’t do subtle! 2007 On top of a hill overlooking the Bourley Road reservoir, whilst out on one our daily dog walks, Delilah was talking about how much weight she had lost but kept her ample bosoms. She turned to me, not for reassurance. (Delilah is not one of those women who suffer from low self-esteem). She looked at me and asked “Eddie don’t you still find me attractive”? Of course I still found her immensely attractive, but over the six years since our break-up I had learned to hide these feeling and keep them concealed. In character, I answered “Don’t be so ridiculous of course I don’t” In that split second I didn’t realise what she was asking. I do now and I suspect most of the people reading this will. A million times, I’ve wished I could go back and replay that scene but this ain’t a movie and I can’t. I wish us real men were allowed to cry. Of course I still found her attractive. I still worshipped the ground she walked on. I would have done anything for her but it was too late. She, feeling rejected, was about to make me pay for that mistake in spades. A few days later Delilah was going to wound me with the most awful experience possible for anyone who truly loves someone. Each Sunday at the end of my working day, I always picked up my dog ‘Bart’ from her house. On this Sunday the front door was on the ‘snib.’ Dick’s cab was outside her house as usual but I was getting used to that. The front door locked from the inside was unusual. I went round the side gate and opened 139

it with my key and went in the kitchen, Delilah was there in the arms of ‘Dick’ a sad man who had a desperate need to seek the approval of every woman he encountered. With Dick, it wasn’t sex that drove him but a need to find the affection denied to him by his mother. When I had started my taxi career, I’d been a friend of his family and it was sad to see his mother doting on her two other sons and his sister, but, from what I saw, his mother displayed almost disdain for him. I understood his pain from my own sad upbringing. This might sound vicious but I do not hate him I felt sorry for him, after all, he was just a pawn in our game of chess. That Sunday I left without saying much but I was devastated Delilah had taught me a lesson, which I would never forget. I had to know was she sleeping with this guy? How could she choose him over me? We had meant so much to each other, was that just lies? I had to know. My nightmare had begun. When I found Delilah with Dick together on that Sunday night I asked myself the same questions over and over again. Why had they locked the front door, but left the side door open? So that I could walk in on them? Did she want me to find them in that very compromising position? Delilah had always been very careful during our long affair, not to be discovered. Was it to teach me a lesson for rejecting her, or had she and Dick, just been carried away? After all, I always picked my dog up at about the same time each Sunday night and she knew I had a key to side gate and back door. 140

Chapter 16: Putting the record straight. I was caught like a rabbit in a trap Delilah hated me for rejecting her and I could not harm him or her because I loved this woman with all my heart. What should I do? Stand back and wait for common sense to arrive? It never has in the past. She was very stubborn. Delilah cannot reject me for this oaf. But She Did Delilah had reached out for someone damaged like herself. Delilah’s mother had never approved of her carryings on with the men in their village. Her mum also disapproved of her daughter’s marriage to a soldier. Delilah desperate to prove her mother wrong and was determined to stay married to him forever. Delilah denied her mother’s approval had found her soul mate in Dick.

A match made in heaven. They say we get the Politicians we deserve. Perhaps that is true of lovers to.

Did anybody spot that I’d fallen in love with a woman who behaved just like my mother? The pain of rejection again was almost too much for me to bear. Although I didn’t realise why it hurt so much, at the time.

Men may stray but they never fool you into bringing up another man’s child. 141

One of my friends, Keith, went round to Claire’s house whilst we were on one of our many breaks before we lived together. When she opened the door he attacked her, I still don’t know to this day how far it went but when she told me about it I said the right things but inside I didn’t really mind. That, guys, is when you know you don’t love someone. You have to love someone before finding them in the arms of another causes you so much pain you want to kill.

My mate Keith Stott we were on holiday in Las Vegas 2003

Chapter 17: “I don’t care what you think,” she said. Delilah continued to see Dick and his taxi became a permanent fixture outside her house each night. In my jealousy and anger, I told her if she continued to see him, I would tell her husband about her and me. Her answer was to change the locks on her house and commence the destruction of my character amongst the taxi fraternity. Amazing how quickly you can totally destroy someone’s reputation. 142

She and Dick were a formidable team She would decide the strategy and he would run round the ranks spreading the word. She was the company secretary and he a board member. The first task was to destroy my credibility by saying that the affair between her, and me I had been a figment of my imagination, and that I was a fantasist. I understood this strategy but I thought all she wanted was to save her marriage. Then she committed an unforgivable sin when I was standing for the company chairman’s position. Dick removed my election address from the member’s pigeonholes and a rumour was put out that it was I sending the committee horrible ‘text messages’ I was duly branded a weirdo and lost the election. The real culprit sending these abusive text messages was a bitter and twisted retired taxi driver who when caught was cautioned by the Police. The committee knew the facts but the damage to my reputation had been done and my credibility had been destroyed.

I was still living with Claire in Farnham at this point and she began to question why I cared so much about Delilah seeing these other men. I after having had one too many pints at my local one night told her the entire sad story. She went nuts as she realised my love for Delilah meant our relationship was doomed from the start. Claire was none too impressed that the two relationships had overlapped but when I mentioned Delilah trying to rekindle the affair a few weeks before she went berserk and that was when she wrote to Delilah’s husband and as they say. Told All. 143

Delilah dealt with this in her normal way she lied and lied again until she believed the lies herself. Her husband did what we all do, we all choose what we want to believe, don’t we? I have been in her road twice in five years. Both times had nothing to do with her but the story went round the taxi ranks that I was sitting outside her house all the time. It was also said, I was a sick human being, akin to a stalker. “There had never been an affair” “I was a nutcase” and as I say, people believe what they want to, irrespective of the facts. I was probably slightly round the bend at this time, as I had come to realize Delilah was only using Dick as a smoke screen. They destroyed me as sure as if they had put a knife through my heart.

The months went by and each week brought a fresh complaint about my working practises. The office personnel were instructed not to accept bookings for my large luxury taxi. The office computer was altered, so that it appeared I could only take four passengers, instead of seven, denying me much work. Please leave me alone! But the two of them kept on and on. The last straw was when the company put me under surveillance. After they refused to take a booking for my taxi, to catch me doing ‘private work.’ I was to come to the inevitable conclusion that they would never leave me alone, so to leave the company was my only option. I even went ‘Private Hire’ to avoid contact with these awful people but they were relentless. Maybe to leave the company was the only way to find peace.

So leave I did 144

When Delilah joined the company, I had lent her the money for her to purchase a share £4,500.00 interest free. I had also bailed her out when the company had demanded £180.00 before she could commence working. Crying how could I refuse this woman I loved? She later denied I had lent her this money and to this day she still owes me this sum. This loan became very important to me as the years went by on and I was willing to let go if only she would repay this small loan and we could go our separate ways. However, she did what Delilah always does she lied. The committee believed her even when her bank account showed the cash going into her account the week before she paid the £180.00 cheque to the committee. Delilah had told the taxi company I had never lent her the money in the first place but she in her statement to the Police said “He lent me the money but I paid it back” Well at least, she admitted she had borrowed it. Getting the truth from her is like pulling teeth.

Delilah did what she always does! Lied, whilst looking you straight in the eye. The origin of the engagement ring. When primitive man roamed the earth, they would raid a nearby village to capture/kidnap a woman to become his mate. To overcome the woman’s natural desire to return to her own family the man would tie twine around her finger and attach it to a suitable anchor point, to prevent her running away. And who said we men aren’t romantic? 145

Chapter 18: Out on my own. Having sold my share in the taxi company I was determined to put the pain and nastiness behind me. I was determined to build a small loyal group of customers and become invisible. However, in October 2010, the police advertised in the local paper for someone who worked at the Cambridge Military Hospital in Aldershot in 1973, who had ‘allegedly’ committed a serious crime. I did not register concern as I did not work in the Cambridge Hospital until 1987 but a company taxi driver told the police I had been working at the Cambridge in 1973. The police did not check where I was in 1973 and arrested me. I did not fit the description and I was in Germany having the time of my life in 1973. It was 1977 before I came back to the Aldershot area and it would be 1987 before I was to become the Sergeant Major at the Military Hospital. A quick call to M.O.D. would have established these facts. I did not know the man they were looking for. I have no tattoos and I have never worn ‘Buddy Holly’ glasses and me being described as skinny, Never! I was a thousand miles away in Germany when the alleged crimes were committed. The police apparently did no research before arresting me, a taxi driver had named me and that was good enough for those idiots to arrest me. The fact that I was nowhere near Aldershot at the time and didn’t fit the description did not matter. 146

How can a modern Police Force be so inept as to have to stoop to advertising in the local paper about a crime committed twenty-seven years before? This madness ensured everyone with an axe to grind had an open goal for a bit of malicious finger pointing. Then to arrest someone just on the say so of a nasty gossip trying to cause trouble is unbelievable. Even friends say, “Surely they must have had some other evidence”. “Yes I say my name was Eddie the same as the man they think committed the crime.” It hurts me to say this but Eddie is a very common name.

Chapter 19: Worse was yet to come The police arrest at the end of 2010 made me very depressed. How could these idiots just remove an innocent person’s freedom without any evidence on such a serious matter? However, I’ve always tried to take the positive from each new experience. Therefore, in the four hours I spent in the cells, whilst they were carrying out the checks they should have done before they arrested me. I went through my life stage by stage. I returned home and to lift my severe depression caused by this horrible experience I decided to write a book. The book did its job and my depression lifted. I have enjoyed writing this autobiography immensely. Writing, it seems, gave my existence purpose once more and released the demons and frustrations, which have built up over the years. I sent the finished book to a publisher who expressed an interest 147

but her solicitor said before we can think about publishing we must have. “The persons mentioned written permission unless the information is in the public domain.” I had to write to Delilah, this woman I’d come to hate, for permission to publish my book, so I did. I was prepared to offer her up to fifty per cent of the royalties if she helped me get it published but she having received the book took almost a week to decide that her life was in danger from me and told the police I was going to kill her. She had always edited my text messages or emails I had sent her and forwarded them on. In the 17 years I had known her I had never been violent towards her or anybody else in my life for that matter. She was in no danger from me but she saw her chance for revenge and was determined to stop me publishing this book. Wild she was LIVID!

The police needed no evidence or proof, swung into action, and broke into my house. Fourteen Burly Armed Police surrounded my little flat, smashed in my door, and arrested me, a man nearly sixty years old, of previous good character, on the word of a liar. A neighbour had offered to open the door with his ‘master key ’and was told, “Go back inside’. I was thrown to the floor in my kitchen and two pairs of handcuffs placed tightly round my wrists. “What the fuck are you doing?” I shouted, “You can’t do this!”

“We can do anything we like” came the response! 148

Delilah even by her standards had achieved a result. (Jim’s advice from the Met police, had paid off?)The police love to over react. Her taxi company had successfully got rid of a competitor because on the following Monday, two Council workers raced over and removed my badge to prevent me from earning a living. Innocent until proven guilty not in today’s Britain it seems. The police for the second time in a few months went into action on the word of a taxi driver. Since leaving the taxi company, I had taken a lot of airport work from them as I offered a friendly service with a modern luxury vehicle.

Her motive was pure revenge and spite! My Dogs didn’t deserve this! I spent two days in solitary confinement offered no food or phone call but I wasn’t concerned for myself but my poor dogs. They were locked in my flat for forty-eight hours. The police had smashed in my front door and after searching for the mythical gun had secured the front door with a large padlock. This padlock prevented my friends from gaining access to look after my two boys who were in my flat with no food or water and these ‘bully boys’ didn’t care! I am strong but my boys were innocent, caught in this cross fire between two idiots who didn’t know whether they loved or hated each other? Is it possible to feel both at the same time? 149

Chapter 02: Stubborn to the point of Stupidity Perhaps in the same situation, perhaps, I would not give the same ultimatum. Perhaps she would not choose the same path to Mutual Assured Destruction. But I suspect she is far too stubborn to choose a different path or to think outside the box. At the time, I loved her too much to change. Perhaps, I loved this woman more than she deserved? M.A.D. You bet your life we were!

Delilah wrongly blamed me for losing the house she loved and the breakdown of her marriage and me “That bastard Eddie Poole is writing a book”. Disaster! “But he can’t publish it without my permission unless the affair is in the public domain. Oh shit! I put it in the public domain when I made all those allegations to the police, Dick I’ve been had!” Delilah had for the first time admitted our affair was real in her statement to the police. Gotcha!

It didn’t help that her Ex-husband, had just remarried and had a baby. Delilah’s many attacks on my character over the years killed off any feelings I still had for her. My passionate love, which had turned to passionate hatred, had faded away. When I heard from a mutual friend, at Christmas 2010, that her husband and she had divorced and he was about to remarry. Delilah had to sell the house, she loved, to give him his share. Then my book arrived.

Mad she was livid! 150

Chapter 21: Every winner loses 2010 When I found Delilah with Dick, on that Sunday night in 2007 I felt so much jealousy and pain but in time, I came to realise she was unworthy of my love. Though I still wanted to destroy her world as she had destroyed mine. I came to hate her with passion as strong as my love had been. Delilah’s world, like mine, had fallen apart she had destroyed my world with her lies but the truth usually gets out in the end, my mission in life is to ensure it does. However, of course, unlike me, she is lucky to have friends and much influence that will pull her through the bad times, caused by her affairs. The truth, even when whispered, is louder than the sound of gunfire My mission in life is to ensure everyone knows the truth about her and me. I also wish to reclaim my lost taxi; I’d been forced to sell my vehicle to survive these past few months I wasn’t allowed to work. I want the truth, which is within this book to restore my reputation. I had been passionately in love with this woman, not mad.

Or perhaps they are the same? Now it is time to end this madness and misery, which my life has become. Delilah with her vindictive behaviour over these many years has killed off any feelings I still had for her. I almost felt sorry for her because I know how much she values:

Her Illusion of ‘Respectability’ It’s a lie! 151

By chance, I followed her in my car today. A great man once said “The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.” As I returned from my daily game of squash and swim today, Delilah driving her taxi pulled out in front of me and I followed her up the hill into Aldershot. I felt nothing no hate no love and at last no pain. No pain, at last, No pain. Time heals all but time can only heal if you let it! Perhaps it is time to let time do its work. If I went away and found someone new, I may be happy once more but time is running out. As the Police removed me in hand–cuffs from my home on that unforgettable Thursday night, on the way out of the complex a couple of old ladies had come out to see the spectacle of me being dragged out to the police van. (I was in too much shock to register any embarrassment) I was flanked by a police officer both sides of me and a ‘gobby’ sergeant, full of himself bringing up the rear. Him seeing the old women watching grabbed at my right buttock, being careful no one saw him in the dark. I thought initially this was a gay thing. Then as I sat in the Police Van the ‘penny dropped’ he was trying to get me to kick out at him so the women watching would witness me resisting arrest and give this bastard an opportunity for violence. I made an official complaint about his outrageous behaviour but of course the police who investigated the incident said, “As there were no witnesses, so it never happened” If they apply this rule to all crimes then most will not have happened? Criminals/Police seem to me, to be two sides of the same coin they both lie and cheat to the same degree. Both will do anything to achieve their goal. Origin of the term filth: Failed in London try Hong Kong.

152

Chapter 22.

*Misandry still legal in Britain today?

The last bigotry allowed in Britain today, is the hatred of men as a sexually defined group. Each year in Britain and the U.S., middle-aged men commit suicide in their tens of thousands and no one cares. Strangely, other men in this category remain indifferent. If this were happening to any other group in society, there would be calls for more spending by the health service and inquiries set up, to find the cause. We men put the most into our society, in terms of resources but get the least out. Young men are far more likely to suffer violence than young women are, but no one talks about that. Boys although just as intelligent as girls are falling behind at school and the women in our media gloat about this fact, rather than report it for the disaster it is going to be. No one cares about males it seems they are expendable? We men must learn to fight back when attacked, if we are to live in a free and fair society. Women must understand that if they make unfounded allegations, they will be held to account, and named. Most men and women, it seems to me, come to mistrust and become wary of the opposite sex to some degree as the years roll by. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m sure some come to mistrust the opposite sex with good reason. Men it seems are not allowed to fight back and with each verbal skirmish come off worst. Women, in this modern society, seem to hold all the cards. Men must prove everything and women just need to make an accusation to destroy a man.

*Misandry. A â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Hatredâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; of men as a sexually defined group. 153

My journey was complete I had arrived at Misogyny? Delilah had finished what my Mother, McIver and Reynolds had started. I had no gun and she knew she was in no danger! Therefore, perhaps for me, all roads should have lead to Misogyny.

However In spite of the appalling treatment I have been forced to endure at the hands of women, all my life,

I have not come to hate women per se. We men are lucky to have the ability to move on. However, I do hate the tools women employ.

Lies, Manipulation, Nagging and the ‘bloody Guilt’. Surprisingly it does not stop me still wanting to meet that special woman who I can love and try to make happy. Take Care out there and remember you are unique just like everyone else on our Planet. All the best Eddie Poole AND REMEMBER IT’S LATER THAN YOU THINK

The End 154

Epilogue: Success, Get knocked down seven times get up eight. A great boxer once said “It doesn’t matter how many times they knock you down it’s how many times you get up that counts” He was talking about boxing but this statement is so true about life. My mother did enormous damage to me and as I have said on many occasions: “We all search, for that we perceive we did not have as a child, for all our lives”. I have a desperate need to be ‘wanted’ or ‘needed’. Apparently, the worst thing you can do to a child is to allow it to think it is unwanted, if this is true, our society is heading for calamity of gigantic proportions. The McIver’s probably did the most damage to me with their constant criticism, which undermined my self-confidence. To this day, I have never been able to endure constant criticism and guilt. Which is one reason I left Clare and it is why I loved Delilah so much: She never criticised me or laid guilt on me, we had arguments, which happen in any relationship, but she never went on and on about those little things women constantly moan about. You know the sort of moaning we men have to put up with, women spend hours bitching about men (it’s a symptom of penis envy) leaving the toilet seat up when it would have taken a few seconds to just put it down. The Griffith family and the Army did a lot to repair the damage done to me by my upbringing but of course the army turned its back on me when I needed it the most. As one lady said after the

Reynolds episode, I was never the happy out going chap I had been before. Pam, my wife, turned her back on me once my son was born and again, I was forced to leave. I need to be needed I can’t help myself. 155

Politics turned its back on me when my honesty and integrity as Chairman of the planning committee became a problem, for two of my colleagues. It is amazing isn’t it in that in the murky world these politicians inhabit they prefer a sleaze ball to a man of principle? Delilah has had her revenge on me on so many occasions and in so many ways, both personally and through her position in the taxi company. I’ve got to admit it was nasty of me to allow her husband to find out about our affair but I did warn her twice before I carried out my threat and I was in so much pain, at that time I wasn’t thinking, logically, like a man. A man does not know real pain until finding the woman he loves, making love to another, also to have old friends ignore you because they have heard some disgusting rumour fills one with a great despair and the feelings impossible to resist or shake off. So readers, in the court of public opinion, do I deserve to be given the glass of poisoned wine to end this misery my life has become? Alternatively, should I get up one more time? .

I’m not sure if I even want to get up this time.

156

Dear John. (Always wanted to write that.) L.O.L. During the writing of this book, I sang the praises of the lads on top gear. During a recent, visit to Malvern, whilst walking on the beautiful hills, which used to be my home. John and I chatted about life. I happened to say how much I liked ‘Top Gear’ John said, “Well I used to like it when it was a programme about cars but now, not so much”. John, men’s strengths and values are under attack from the politically correct and the ‘sisterhood’ which in my opinion have become a negative force, destroying our society. Every day women are allowed to rubbish men in our media. Violence against men is acceptable and even funny. Young women are applauded for attacking men “YOU GO GIRL” the shout goes up as some hapless man (usually portrayed as an idiot) is attacked physically or verbally on our screens. The last acceptable bigotry in society is ‘Misandry’, which is a word few even know, exists, although it is more prevalent than misogyny in Britain today. Examples of Misandry are on TV in both the programmes, adverts and films. If you can’t reverse the sex of the people portrayed in an advert without it becoming unacceptable, it is wrong! ‘Top Gear’ is the last bastion of celebrating men’s love for cars, speed and living on the edge, which we boys need and crave. We in trying to create a risk free society are eliminating men’s core need to take risks when growing up.

So let’s hear it for ‘TOP GEAR’ 157

For some women, beauty is their only talent. When I moved here to my new home I was hoping to make friends and be popular with the people who live in this complex, which is for the over sixties. They are mainly old ladies but It seems some old ladies carry the bitterness from all the men, they perceive wronged them throughout their lives. Most women who live here don’t even speak to me. I am a man and that fact alone seems to be enough for them to resent me. Ladies I’m not responsible for you losing your looks and I wasn’t the guy who left you for the younger model when your looks faded. If you live your life relying on your looks alone, then when they have gone, do not be surprised when there is nothing left in you to love or like. The man who lived in the flat next door disappeared about three years ago and has not been seen or heard of since; I hope he found peace away from the people who made his life a misery;

I am fighting the urge to go and join him. My friend Steve, down the gym, says I should end my book on a high note I’m sorry Steve I can’t comply. Hang on, there’s a nice looking lady who works at Halfords, who has agreed to have lunch with me. Perhaps it’s too soon to hope for good company and bike parts at ‘Staff Discount’.

We all live in hope don’t we?

Adieu. 158

This fine looking man is the Landlord of my local ‘greeting me’ At the ‘Running Stream’ Trevor’s a crap landlord as in spite Of him and me sharing the same birthday, I never get a lock-in.

I visit a local health club each day, to get my daily fix of exercise, I met a nice looking lady who turned out to be a teacher and I happened to say I was writing a book. To amuse her I started to quote a few funny bits from it. “When you see men fighting you can bet there’s a woman at the bottom of things”. I then went on to say “Helen of Troy being the most extreme example of this”. I fully expected a little titter at the very least but she just looked perplexed and I was forced to explain about, the face that launched a thousand ships? Now if she taught Maths, Chemistry or Sport I wouldn’t have thought much about it but as you’ve probably guessed by now, she teaches English.

What chance do the poor kids of today have? 159

Happier Times, the Mayor and his wife, me (in white shirt) with a bunch of taxi drivers on a charity day out for Kids.

Suicide a permanent solution to a temporary problem’ Not since Michael Foot wrote his Manifesto in 1983 has there been a longer one. The first line of this book originally said: Here I am sitting in my little flat in Aldershot contemplating suicide having had my life destroyed by the only woman I truly loved.

A close friend said maybe this was too honest and too depressing and nobody would want to read it or print it. So unwisely, I changed it to a more positive line and presented a woman, with an axe to grind, an open goal. Of course, I could never hurt anyone but I have always fought back when pushed into a corner. This autobiography didn’t start out as ‘book’ it was a letter saying good bye and stating my reasons and wishes. When it turned into this book, it seemed to develop a life of its own. The book, along with my boys, probably saved my life. Thanks for reading: - My ‘Life & Times’ By Edmund John Poole

Women have been the best thing in my life but also the worst. 160

Just a couple, of my many bikes. Cannondale full carbon

Pashley

Green Pashley they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t do green. 161

The Illusion of respectability By Eddie Poole Being who she wasn’t she was who she wished to be . EP

Don’t cry because it’s over, Smile because it happened. EP Dare to be different. EP 162