I often wondered how very different my life might have turned out, had I followed the normal course upon leaving school and gone into a trade. My father had arranged a plumbing apprenticeship for me with somebody he knew. I had never felt happy with that plan. I had been spending time on weekends working with a mobile greengrocer. It was paying more than the caddying and I was learning the precious skill of selling, or as importantly, communicating and presenting myself. We called on customers at their homes; it was the way of shopping back then. The baker, greengrocer and milkman all did most of their business door-to-door. It was lively and humorous. I loved this job; I became very relaxed dealing with the housewives, joking, chatting and selling them fresh produce. Selling is selling, whatever the product. To do it well you have to be able to relax people and make them want to deal with you. I found that I had that quality in abundance, even at an early age. Dealing with and chatting up those housewives, that was my apprenticeship for the world I would someday enter.
I duly turned up at the plumber’s workshop early one cold morning; it was still dark outside and miserable. It was cold inside as well and still miserable. Introductions were made and I was set to work counting screws, washers and things. It was soul destroying. I knew it wasn’t for me. I started at seven o’clock in the morning. At ten o’clock I was told to go to the shop close by and buy some sandwiches and other food. I walked out of the door and it felt like breaking out of jail for me. I bought the things they wanted and took them back. I handed their sandwiches and pies around. I was fifteen years old and couldn’t bear the thought that this would be my life. This just wasn’t for me. I thought: it’s now or never, be bold or give in for life. I had to pass the boss’s office on the way out. I think he knew what was coming. He looked at me and just said, “Your Dad will be angry.” I jumped on my bike and pedalled home as fast as I could. There was much arguing and remonstrating with me. My Dad was particularly upset as he had secured the plumbing opportunity for me. I was told that a dark future awaited me. In that they weren’t absolutely wrong, but I wasn’t going back. I said I knew what I wanted to do. I didn’t really. I just knew it wasn’t in that plumber’s workshop. I was always very headstrong, so there wasn’t much more to be said. A few more dire warnings and that was it.
I was free again. I was euphoric and I felt I had won an important battle. I had escaped shackles that would have bound me to a life and future I was never meant for. Straightaway I got a full time job with the greengrocer, carried on chatting up the housewives and carried on with my journey. The job with the greengrocer was perfect for me. It was an extension of my weekend job. This time however there were major advantages. Fred Graves, the boss, was a bit of a local legend. He had a shop that one of his daughters ran and it was very successful. One of the reasons for that success was the fact that Shirley, his daughter, was a beautiful film star-looking girl. She also sported a magnificent bust, which always seemed to be bursting out of her smock. It was an early lesson to me in good marketing. All the local lads and men found all sorts of reasons to call in for more fruit, salads, or turnips; whatever the season dictated. She was a cracker and knew how to use it. Thanks Shirley, you were much appreciated in those austere times. However, let’s go back to my job. Fred had worked up four rounds, which involved house calls to regular customers. They bought what they needed and generally booked it up and paid for it on the following weekend. Well I was lucky, Fred had decided to split his four rounds into five and I was to get the new one. What a start for me. I was fifteen just going on sixteen and I was independent and largely my own boss as long as I kept the sales up. Luckily for me that wasn’t a problem. I was good at it and I was happy in the job. I loved to chat up the bored ladies. I was always singing on my round; the women liked me. I learnt that people respond to happiness. Consequently they looked forward to my calls and always bought from me. It was a recipe for success. After about a month Fred had noticed the increase in takings, due to new customers I was bringing on.
“Young Russell,” he called out one morning in the yard before we all set off on our rounds. “I’m putting you up to the man’s wage.”
That was great news for me; it was an extra two pounds a week. On top of that I was on the fiddle for another two pounds a week. I covered it by short weighing and adding on a shilling here and a shilling there on the accounts for weekend payment. We were all at it and Fred still became rich. Anyway there it is; I was a kid and earning more than the local tradesmen and enjoying every bit of it.
I am now sixteen-and-a-half, more mature, still singing and happy on my rounds. The inevitable happens. A certain lady had started to take more than the usual interest in me. She was on my Tuesday round and it became a red-letter day for me. I found myself hurrying to get to her street and house. She was an attractive woman in her late thirties. It happened slowly, so slowly that at first I didn’t realise the deliberateness of it. Sometimes the women would come out to the cart. Other times I would go to the house, knock and take the order, fill it and then walk it back to the house. This particular woman used to come out to the cart, have a chat, get her order from me and linger. I noticed that it only happened if there were no other customers around. Whilst lingering I wasn’t sure, but felt she stood very close to me, so much so that I would feel my knee fleetingly contacting her leg. Then there would be a hand on my shoulder, or a gentle playful push. She had a wonderful smile and laughed at my little jokes.
“Who’s your girlfriend, Len, I bet you have more than one you naughty boy.”
“No, not me,” I croaked, “none at the moment.”
Eagerly, too eagerly from me, “I’m looking for one.”
I hoped that I was being adult and playing out this little game properly.
At sixteen these encounters had a very obvious physical effect on me. When I moved on to the next street, walking wasn’t easy. I suffered a painful condition we young males referred to as the “Devils Clutch”. Believe me, it’s painful. I was like a puppy dog around her. This pleasant torment went on for about three weeks. In this time from red-letter day to red-letter day, I was in a state of permanent sexual arousal. The frustration building up caused me sleepless nights. I lay there planning how to make my move. I would form a plan to bring this to fruition and then discard it. In the end nature took its course. It was a Tuesday and I was high with anticipation. I had bathed the night before. I put on my smartest working clothes. I slipped a bottle of Aqua Velva into my pocket. The scene was set. I nearly ran to work that morning. My eagerness to take this three-week tease to its magnificent conclusion knew no bounds. Why had I ever doubted it? She definitely wanted me and at last I was ready. My usual time spent with my customers was drastically shortened. So much so that two of them noticed and commented on it. Nothing mattered; sod the takings for today. I was a man on a mission. At last I got there. I was in a lather of expectation. I showered myself with Aqua Velva; that should impress her I thought. I walked up the path lined with high hedges that had recently been trimmed. I thought the garden looked very tidy and well groomed. I walked around to the back door as usual and knocked. I adopting a practised pose, sharpened in the saloon bar of the Cart and Horses. This is it I was thinking. Nirvana is just on the other side of that door.
Well it was, but not for me. The door opened and the object of my desires, who definitely fancied me stood there smiling. I accentuated my pose. I was prepared to be swept in to fulfil any demands that might be made of me.
“Hello Len, you’re early today,” she said with a smile. I was paralysed and stammered something about changing my round. But wanted to shout ‘here I am, let’s do it.’ I started to slowly realise all wasn’t well. She handed me a list of fruit and potatoes.
“Len would you be a doll and get these for me?” That’s it I thought, she wants me to get them, bring them back and then she will ravish me. Of course that’s it.
“Okay” I said, about to turn and run down the path. As I did that I could see behind her into the Kitchen. I almost turned to stone, for there sitting at the table with a smile that creased his face was a local chap I knew. He was a jobbing gardener. She didn’t come out to the cart that day, or any other day again. That bloody gardener was always there, every Tuesday no matter what.
One of the most painful things I ever had to do was to take those veggies back up that manicured path. However, I did so and took my punishment as well as I could. Which as it happened, wasn’t very well at all. But as they say, there’s a moral or a lesson in every story. This one was quite simple and it was never lost on me again. It’s so very obvious really. It doesn’t matter how clever you are. It doesn’t matter how deserving you are. Success or failure in all things is generally down to one thing and that’s timing. I sure didn’t time that unbelievable opportunity correctly. That low down gardener surely did. Life can be so unfair to a naïve, keen young chap.