Over the next 18 months or so,I think we are talking 1972/3 life was good. I trained twice a week at the Quins. Barry O’Connor would drive me there and back and both of us would charge similar ‘travelling expenses’. On match days we did the same so my weekly income was significantly boosted especially, egged on by Barry, we made sure we were fulsome in our requests. The truth is Harlequins were a very wealthy club on those days and everyone ‘did it’. We were all professionals I suppose but it was all kept quiet. Most of the rugby I played was in the lower sides, there were in fact 3 teams in total. We played the first team of the top London club sides though and we were a big scalp, probably the biggest, on the ‘friendly fixture list’ so it was a high level. Curiously when ever a visit to South Wales was imminent by availability to travel was enquired. This was the time of the great sides of the Welsh Valleys and a hammering was often the result. I learned to decline the offer and I suppose that over time this hampered my progress in the club where if truth be told I was a spectator on an elite privileged sporting organisation peopled by some amazing characters. One anecdote comes to mind that amazed me at the time. I was playing for the first team against The Metropolitan Police and I was opposite an international called Tony Boddy,- the name suddenly came to me so I record it here. Any way two of the Quins front row forwards were brothers. The Claxtons. No-one quite knew how but some how these two had been invited to join the illustrious band of public school boys. They were East Enders and drove JCB’s for a living and both were immensely strong. I know one of them if not both were later capped for England. Anyway I could not find a ‘tie up’ for my lovely knitted socks with coloured diamonds circling their tops. ‘Anyone got a tie up’ I piped. Terry Claxton reached into his bag and produced a brand new boot lace and wrapped it around both of his manacle hands. ‘Humph’ he grunted and the lace snapped clean in two-OMG I have never seen anything like that-glad he was on my side!
My brother, who I am afraid I have always struggled with to form a relationship as we are just so different was 4 and a bit years older than me. His business life was very successful as he owned a successful sports car franchise and was a racing driver as a hobby at many events in the country. His speciality was Lotus cars and one day I was in his garage on a visit to the wirral to see family and friends. There sitting in the show room was a white S4 Lotus Elan with a black soft top. OMG it was beyond gorgeous. The following week it was mine, (payed for by monthly instalments). Speed limits did not exist on motorways etc and I have to say the breathalyser, which was recently introduced, was something of a joke. Anyway there I flying down the M1 and M6 in my beautiful Lotus. I stopped in Hampstead to show John Gregory and had a pint before driving through central London with the top down, a cheeky Picadilly cigarette on my lips (yes I know, but that is what we all did). Down The Kings Road and back to Camberwell where I suddenly realised I had nowhere to park the thing and we lived on a main road! Parking in those days in London was a different thing so I was able to find a quiet back street. My car was never vandalised thank goodness especially as Camberwell was not exactly a ‘balmy suburb’. The Kray Twins favourite pub was 200 yards from my front door.
I just put this on record because I probably got a bit a head of myself. Indeed I was soon to learn that pride comes before a fall. However driving into the Stoop Memorial Ground on a match day in a white Lotus Elan gave me a particular feeling that was memorable. I am afraid I felt a bit ‘special’.
The fall was brutal. The 1974 market crash and ongoing dire economic consequences. Shares were not only at record lows but few were being traded and business all but dried up. One day the man who had invited me to go to London took me aside. There were tears in his eyes, way out of character for such a man. Mass redundancies were planned for Tilney and Co. I was offered the chance to return to Liverpool or take statutory redundancy. Keith Rae was devastated as he told me I had done everything he had asked it was just a case of the London Office being shrunk down to a token level.
I was devastated and that night at rugby training I sat next to a man called Tony Lewis who was not only a very successful city fund manager he was a real charismatic man and influencer. I explained my plight and he took immediate interest. I know a number of senior people in the city I will see what I can do he said. The following day I was approached by a man called Roger Wesley Smith, an ex guards officer and a man of great reputation on the Stock exchange Floor. He was a senior partner of the Jobbing firm Pinchin Denny. Yes that firm where my two ex schoolmates were employed. Roger invited me for chat and explained that Tony Lewis had called him. He was a very imposing figure, extremely handsome in his mid 40s. He new all about my rugby prowess ‘Do you know anyone well at Pinchin”? he asked. I do as matter of fact I said and mentioned John and Chris. Not surprisingly I suppose I received glowing references from those two and I was offered a job. All good so far but the ‘fall’ played out as follows. My annual salary was cut in half-£1500- I was to be a ‘blue button’ which actually meant I back on the bottom rung and would make my living taking messages around the stock exchange floor. My Elan had to go of course but rather than return to Liverpool and because I began to realise , probably way before time, that the economy was in dire straits. I had to go and see my bank manager and agree an overdraft. It was all very worrying. I felt desperately alone well an truly kicked in the nuts. The one ray of hope I had was Roger promised me that my ‘apprenticeship’ as a jobber would not be the usual two years but just one,I had to keep that secret. The final piece of good news was I was placed in CD Jones team which was wonderful group of men. However they did not take it easy for me indeed they were all very tough as if to make sure I was ‘hardened’. I was often very depressed. My suit trousers would wear out from the miles I walked. I lost weight which did not help my rugby and going training after a day on my feet became a chore. Tom and Steve were very busy studying it was desperate and I was skint.
One day one of my working colleagues who was a prop froward and played for the Stock Exchange asked me if I was alright. I told him how I felt and how hard up I was. Adrian lived out in a beautiful cottage near Bishops Stortford and played rugby for Saffron Walden who were Eastern Counties Champions. Adrian suggested I go and live with him and in exchange for playing rugby for Saffron Walden he would give me free board and lodgings. It was a way out but another kick in the teeth as I would have to leave the Quins. Honestly I knew by now at the top level I was ‘ordinary’ so aside from the ‘glamour and all that entailed’ I was not sacrificing a golden future. I said yes and moved into Adrians delightful thatched cottage. It was a whole new life. Adrian drove a sliver Datsun 240 Z. he would let me drive him around in it. We would train one night week and one other, Thursdays, we would go to the local pub for a ‘lock in’. I was often invited to Adrians family home for Sunday lunch, they were a lovely welcoming crew and the set up was magnificent. It was, aside from that, very quiet and not exactly what I was looking for as a 23 year old. The rugby was good as the first team had a magnificent fly half called John Smith who, if he had not been farmer and had played at a bigger club might have excelled so there was no room for me there. My Blue button activity and weight loss apparently had added a yard or two of pace and I ended up on the right wing. I scored loads of tries and would often come infield and take part in moves that my footballing skill allowed. I was very popular in the squad and our sevens side won all the local competitions and we nearly made it to Twickenham for the annual 7s jamboree. Alas Saracens beat us in a close fought regional final.
After a while, I think it was the summer of 1973, It all got too much or in truth too little for me. My idea of fun was not helping my farmer mates pile hay bales at the weekend, as seemed popular. I did not play cricket then as Adrian did, so my weekends were desolate lonely affairs. On top of that an hour each day each way commuting with no funds to support the bar carriage was desperate. A good school friend, Martin prentice, got in touch and as providence was to provide invited me for a night out. He lived in Earls Court in a road that then was somewhat tatty but now is beyond smart. There were loads of cool pubs and restaurants. Martin had three female flat mates who each in turn had many friends. Martin seemed to be having quite time of it. He and I had an ‘interesting’ relationship. He had come to my school in the sixth form his parents having moved to the area. He was always the ‘new boy’ and this irked him. Most of the time we got on fine but he could not resist having to ‘prove things to me’. In later life this became too much for me as I really liked him for what he was, I did not see him a rival for whom we had to match achievement. Any way after one or two similar visits I talked Martin into letting me camp out on his couch when ever I was in London. Bit by bit this became the norm and as my year of ‘apprenticeship’ drew to a close I decided that I could no longer bear a country life. Adrian was very disappointed and I did not have the chance to say good bye at the rugby club. I moved into Martins and in doing so the pair of us decide on a late summer holiday. There was a company called Small World which specialised in Villa Holidays in glamorous places. Martin assured me it was a place to meet beautiful women as the venues offer a full board fully catered experience for singles. Little did I know that that fortnight would be the most important, by a considerable distance, in my life. the friday before I left I was called into an office by Roger Wesley Smith. I had completed my apprenticeship and I was to be promoted to ‘authorised clerk’. I would be working on the Shipping and Transport pitch. As I went back to West London that night I reflected on the fact that one year ‘running notes’ had taught me sod all about how to run a ‘jobbing book’ it was all bit scary but At leats I had this holiday to look forward to.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 