TGC - The True Tale of Woe


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TGC: The True Tale of Woe

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"Tales of Woe, of a Nottingham lad"

Currently a short portly-but-wobbly bespectacled 67 year-old, made redundant four times, dedicated NHS patient, with his new heart, arthritis, angina, prostate cancer, minuscule wedding tackle, knock-knees, deafness, hernia, bad eyesight, blood disorder and dizzy spells.

The disasters, disappointments, successes (both of them), his failures, shattered dreams, false arrest, romantic frustrations, the rejections, inefficacious incidents, lack of education, along with the misfits misconceptions, misunderstandings, misadventures, misanalysis, miscalculations, misinterpretations, misestimations, misfeasances, misperceptions, and miscellaneous miserable moments and occasions throughout his pathetically unsuccessful life will be revealed here, for the members of Nottingham Nostalgia.

Starting at his birth into the cruel world, that event alone singularly distressing for all.

Chapter One:

The Tales of Woe begin

It must have been a moving moment, in the gas lit two-up two-down ramshackle Nottingham terraced house, when the mid-wife handed the new born bundle of gooey 1lb 12oz of scrawny baby, wrapped tenderly in a bloodied pillow case, over into the hands of the mites loving Park Drive smoking and ash covered mother, as she lay cursing the father of this undersized ugly grotty little monster in her arms.

As the mid-wife handed the bundle to er, she, caressed her cigarette, coughed up some phlegm and gently introduced the scrawny underweight mite to the pleasures of ash burns from the end of her Park Drive, and uttered her first words to the unwanted creature, or rather to the stern-faced mid-wife:

"I don't want it, throw it in the Trent!"

Thus began an adventure full of misery, depression, frustration and failure for the superfluous, repulsive, horrid, little baby that nobody wanted.

The above facts were verified years later, by the same mid-wife when she'd called at the dilapidated hovel to try and collect a debt that the mother owed her (Naturally the mid-wife failed in her mission, as so many others did over the long painful years).

So, the start of this terrible tale of malfunctions is not totally reliant on the memory of James Timothy Gerald Archibald Percival Chambers. (I believe the many names, were given by neighbours and relatives, in lieu of debt repayment by his dear mother, to the name proffering people).

The fact is that she, (his mother) tried to palm him off to various aunties, nephews, etc. at a reasonable cost, to no avail - it seemed that he was to be an incumbency in her charge forever.

But no, she soon found a way to get out of her responsibilities, as she absconded, not without reason mind, the debt collectors were getting cleverer and ever closer - so she legged it - until TGC's poor Dad had paid off the bills and would then return full of penitence and contrition until the often repeated next time.

The Fights

Fights between my parents were frequent and violent when mother was at home and when she was not running from the police... which fair enough, was not often, but still made me sad and confused - a little like I am now really.

More revelations to follow!

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TGC: The True Tale of Woe "Tales of Woe, of a Nottingham lad" Currently a short portly-but-wobbly bespectacled 67 year-old, made redundant four times, dedicated NHS patient, with his new heart,

Tales of Woe, of Gerry, a Nottingham lad. Chapter Two: Mother's many Endearing Qualities 1) Losing Her Son On occasions (four), she went home from the public washhouse leaving him sat waitin

True Tales of Woe, of a Nottingham lad Chapter Three - The Dangers in the Back Yard Written as he remembers it, in his own words... Our row of soot covered old terrace houses, backed up lopsided

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Language Timothy !!!!!!!!!!!!

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sure is a true tale of woe tcg had you have been born today you would have been born into a clean hospital wardand had at least the love and care of the great nurses on the maternity wingas well as the drs who i am sure would have picked up on you horrible mums attitude to you. .my great nephew now age 19 was like you born at 1lb 12 oz and given only a 20 percent chance of survival. he had such loving care of the nurses drs and his parentsand family and is still with us today i do wonder how you managed to survive under the circumstanses you had to live in but you were ment to be hereand must have be very strog despite all your trial of life you keep comming out fighting keep going my friend and keep up your righting of this tread

babs

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Look forward to hearing Episode 2 TGC (now moved to members blogs)

I was only wondering myself whilst subjected to the hours on end evening 'Soap' episodes, A'la SWMBO.

They'r always fighting and arguing right through each sad episode, but never a swear word is issued?

Blog on...

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sure is a true tale of woe tcg had you have been born today you would have been born into a clean hospital wardand had at least the love and care of the great nurses on the maternity wingas well as the drs who i am sure would have picked up on you horrible mums attitude to you. .my great nephew now age 19 was like you born at 1lb 12 oz and given only a 20 percent chance of survival. he had such loving care of the nurses drs and his parentsand family and is still with us today i do wonder how you managed to survive under the circumstanses you had to live in but you were ment to be hereand must have be very strog despite all your trial of life you keep comming out fighting keep going my friend and keep up your righting of this tread

babs

Ta!

Lookin' back nar - it wus just how it was, un the best wus made of it.

No good me moanin' and a groanin'. I'll do the next chapter soon as possible, health permittin' - not doin' too bad today though (one of me better ones I hope), so when I get back from the clinic, I might manage to start chapter two post.

Hope your keepin' well all, I know many of us are suffering. Best wishes to you all, and may your foibles be fermented with happiness... oh dear, better get ready fer me appointment now, a quick session of ablutions then a cuppa, and off to the clinic fer me.

TTFN and taketh mucho care please.

TGC (Gerry)

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Dont ferget to write it in 'Wordpad' or summat and copy it to a post here.

Twould be a tragedy to become victim to a lazy server! "Saving Post"!

Buggered if I know where it saves them to?

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Dont ferget to write it in 'Wordpad' or summat and copy it to a post here.

Twould be a tragedy to become victim to a lazy server! "Saving Post"!

Buggered if I know where it saves them to?

I wrote em in Office Word, and copied pasted em, is that one okay to use?

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Tales of Woe, of Gerry, a Nottingham lad.

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Chapter Two:

Mother's many Endearing Qualities 1) Losing Her Son

On occasions (four), she went home from the public washhouse leaving him sat waiting in his pram. (She later admitted this)

On a day trip to Mablethorpe, (His Dad worked for the Railway so they got free rail tickets) where she was in her elements smoking away and playing bingo (Minimum 3 cards at a time) to her hearts' content. Gerry was usually left on the beach, in any weather, but if she'd had a win or two, he'd get 3d (1¼p) or 6d (2½p), and told to get lost for three hours in the amusement arcade.

So he had to play the halfpenny machines in an effort to make his vast windfall last as long as possible.

Anyway, back to the tale, on one particular occasion, she actually caught the train home, and got as far as Lincoln before she realised that little Gerry wasn't with her!

She rang the Lincolnshire constabulary, who sent a massive, scary policeman to find and frighten the life out of little Gerry.

Who was in fact still in the halfpenny arcade, and was on the only winning streak hed ever known, and had amassed over 3/- (15p) and some polo mints in winnings from the halfpenny arcade machines!

So when the big bobby found him, he was not very pleased, and went begrudgingly with him to Station Road Police Station from where he was given a lift in the back of a black-maria into Lincoln.

He thought I'd been arrested!

They arrived at the Railway Station, where his dear mummy blew cigarette smoke into his face and relieved him of his 3/- (15p) winnings. (She let him keep the polo mints though).

Mother's many Endearing Qualities 2) Nubbing & Rolling-up fags Training

She would have him going around the streets picking up nub ends, taking them home, and rolling up her cigarettes for her he just thought everyone did it with so much practice he became an expert 'Rizla' roller-upper of her fags.

Mother's many Endearing Qualities 3) Avoiding the Law

Her abilities in keeping out of court for so long, and avoiding the attentions of the police and debt collectors was so highly effective and cunning, it amazed even Gerry.

She even had some of the people she had conned over the years giving character references for her, at her eventual day in court - it's true!

Many times I was suddenly instructed to answer the door to a caller, and deny all knowledge her, as she hid in the larder under the stairs, or out in the toilet in the yard.

She drove his older brother into the forces, and he got married to a Chinese gal while he was stationed in Hong Kong, where he stayed for a few months, then later he had to decide whether to stay there or return to England.

Dear mother wrote them a begging letter, asking how much they had been earning in Hong Kong... that was enough for his kid to decide to stay there!

Gerry missed and still misses him so much, could he not question his wisdom in keeping away from mother.

To skip temporarily forward about 40 years or so, she was eventually taken to court - by then he didn't really want to know, but his sister Jane did go to court with her, here is what Jane said about it:

"I was so embarrassed when they read out the charges, it took the usher about 15 minutes to read out the charges, everyone in the court was nodding off, or looking at each other in amazement!

After it was all over, I wondered why they bothered, she got a new rent paid flat, fully furnished, 50% of the electricity and gas bill paid, and given 12 months on probation!"

Mother's many Endearing Qualities 4) Creative Homework (for me)

She used to take in home work for a while, so that ensured that while she was out at the bookies, playing cards or bingo, I could immerse myself in putting 50 hair-nets each onto many circular cards, or slotting 20 hairpins into cut away cards for hours and hours - every night.

Mind you, she did him give a 1/- (5p) a week for doing it. (Whos shilling it was remains unknown)

Mother's many Endearing Qualities 5) Con-artist supreme

Gerry was actually there, on one occasion when the police arrived at the flea-pit to question his mother about some con or other she was involved in and (he assures me this as all of these tales are true remember) she managed to get one of the officers to actually lent her 10-!

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True Tales of Woe, of a Nottingham lad

Chapter Three - The Dangers in the Back Yard

Written as he remembers it, in his own words...

Our row of soot covered old terrace houses, backed up lopsided against the railway viaduct that carried the main London railway-line and others, with Arkwright Street Station above our house, with a narrow back yard, outside toilets and coal houses built up against the actual grotty soot covered brick wall of the railway viaduct, on which hung the tin bath and Dads cobbling equipment near his self made wooden work bench.

You can imagine the soot, oil, and other residues that would fall into the yard and onto the houses as the express belted past, or the commuter trains would stop at the station, and kick out burning embers with the soot, to fall gently down over our beloved domicile.

Thus, the slightly paranoid personality of myself . . . you see, as the embers fell, often it would set fire to my hair, and a neighbour would run out into the yard to me, and start belting me around the head, as they often would when I got up to no good, so I had to wait until they'd finished their habitual enjoyment of belting me about the head a bit, to find out if my hair had actually been set on fire by the falling ashes, or if I'd done something naughty again!

Thus my later baldness and rampant paranoia?

I grew up with the trains belting past all hours of the night, and despite the fact that they shook the house so violently (the London expresses) that the windows shook, slates fell from the roof, the bed shook, the lights swayed, the candle would fall off the stool wot I made at school, and the battered alarm clock often fell to the floor. The commuters and shunter trains would spew out soot, burning ashes, and shake down lumps of brick from the viaduct sides, yet I cannot recall it bothering my sleeping pattern, or waking me up at all!

When we moved years later to a quiet, clean, cul-de-sac council house, I couldn't sleep... The quietness kept me awake!

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I remember well the square stool, constructed in Piggy Robert woodwork class, and can see it in my minds eye now.

Do you know, I still shudder a bit when I think of piggy Roberts - and Webby from Tech Drawing!

Urgh...

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Webby on yard duty at break time,

Ahh 'xxxx' Boy, Caught you smoking, got to my room.

Awww Sir! Cant I have break first,

Yes Boy... Go to my room and I will break your arm!

Webby's cane came keen!

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I've read the comments on various threads regarding the behaviour of Piggy Roberts and Mr. Webb but I can honestly say that I never saw any of this. In all my time at Trent Bridge Boys Senior School I recall only two incidents of trouble with the teachers in my class. One was with Joe Currah and the other was when I had a skirmish with a temp teacher which have been mentioned on Nottstalgia before. I was in the A stream during my time at Trent Bridge and can only remember going into class, doing the lesson and moving on to the next one. I suppose the more you mess around in class, the more susceptible you are to getting the cane. I'm not trying to be a 'goody two-shoes', it's just how it was.

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It is very true, however most TB masters knew how to meter out punishment when required.

Though it drew some hatred of it from some quarters, that soon turned to respect.

I always appreciated the the Humour in Webby Marciniak, Simons and the like.

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i like you gerry lived very near the railway not in the meders but in nevo and like you the trains never bothered us it was just something you were used to when we moved my mum had lived in the same house for nearly 50 years like you she couldoften be heard roaming about the house putting the kettle on for a cup of tea as she could not sleep said it was too quiet for her.

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True Tales of Woe, of Gerry, a Nottingham lad.

Chapter Four - The Catastrophic Canal Calamity

There I was, a toddler in the company of three other local lads, we were just crossing the canal bridge on Wilford Street, and one or two of the lads stopped to watch a boat going through the lock.

A gang of youths approached, and without delay they picked us up and threw us into the canal! (Bless em!)

Now you must be aware, to fully comprehend this story that I was, and always have been scared to death of two things - the dentist, and deep water.

I somehow came up from the depths of the canal, and managed to grab hold of some thick rope hanging from one of the British Waterway barges, and there I stayed, scared I'd lose my grip, unable to utter any sound or word - through shear fear and panic - and watched as passers-by fished out the other lads.

An ambulance and police arrived and they took them away - me, confused as to why I wasn't rescued, still hanging on for grim life to the rope, getting colder, weaker and more and more scared than I ever thought possible!

Eventually, someone did spot me, and came across on a rowing boat (Still don't know where the boat came from, but I thanked God for it), and dragged me ashore. He even took me home in his motorbike-sidecar. I couldn't thank him properly as I was still struggling to find my voice, and shaking like a leaf through the sheer terrifying ordeal, that has left me a phobia, if that is the right word, a dread, trepidation, and panic of deep water, that prevented my ever having learnt to swim - natural really, as before I could learn to swim, I had to conquer my fear of water, but could never do that, despite several periodic attacks of bravery and visits to the baths in an effort to master my fear, all failing miserably I'm still afraid.

You'd have to understand the meaning of fear to understand. (If you know wot I mean?)

They say everyone has their Achilles Heel - in that dirty canal on that fateful day I confirmed mine, deep water!

When I eventually arrived home, thanks to the Good Samaritan, I was so pleased - that was, until the Samaritan left, and daddy was kind enough to belt me about a bit for coming home late and with wet muddy clothes.

That night I went to bed bewildered, confused, dysphonic, sad, shivering and bruised, but the anguish caused me by falling into the canal were the least of my pains!

Getting another, good belting for getting my clothes wet, did not help my future sanity.

Hey-ho!

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