BD8 & Beyond, page 19
My right knee wasn’t totally fixed and was giving me a bit of grief and after speaking with the consultant, it was apparent that the new joint had moved and twisted. Great! Now paying for a knee joint isn’t like buying a car…..you can’t go and ask for the dosh back, so I had to wait two to three months and then have a complete new knee joint replacement yet again. This was to be a more complex operation than the last one, (full joint replacements are bad enough, but far more so when the joint is carrying quite a lot of passed ‘baggage’).
Field’s were sound regarding my time off and I was urged to take my time and get fully fit before returning to work. Even so, I worked hard on the muscles both at home and at a local gym in the endeavour to get sorted as quickly as possible.
For Christmas, we went up to my brother’s place. Pete and Sue and the twins had moved to a large house round the corner from Alan Shearer, the footballer, in Ponteland, Newcastle. My mum was also there and we had a great time, really festive and chilled out, good for my recuperation.
My other brother Bryan, living in Dubai, was having his wedding blessed, so we all headed for the airport. Bryan has really done well working for TNT and holds a very good position of status, he can’t be faulted and has work hard to get where he is. Lindsay and I were in a villa with my mum, Pete, Sue and the twins, which was a top place with a decent sized pool. My sister Pam, her husband Robert and daughter Hannah were in an apartment and Russ and Jayne were in the Grosvenor Hotel. The main absentee was our nan, who at the age of 97, Dubai was, without a doubt, too great a trek for the old dear to hike.
This was one hell of a get together and the blessing was held in the large winning enclosure at the Jebel Ali Race Course, with the reception to follow at the same venue. This was definitely at the ‘top of the tree’, an absolutely superb occasion and the heat was roasting.
In the bar area Pete and I were chatting and there was a ‘cockney’ lad in his mid twenty’s who’d obviously had too much ‘lush’ and was getting louder and louder. A short guy in a sharp suit came in with his missus and started chatting to one of Bryans mates, a big guy called Pele, like the footballer. They were introduced to Pete and I and as soon as the ‘loud’ lad heard the short guy’s accent, he said “What part of the smoke are you from and who do you follow?” the reply was, “East end and I follow West Ham”. Well that was a red rag to a bull, as the lad was a Millwall boy and he started mouthing off big style. Pete said to me, “Give the pillock a slap Dave and shut the twat up!” The lad said, “I suppose you’re a fucking Leeds fan being a Yorkie”. “Too right” I said but before it got out of hand, his uncle pulled him away and removed him from the venue. We didn’t need any trouble on that day of all days.
We spent plenty of time with the family and had a brilliant time. Linds and I went over to the Grosvenor Hotel for a meal with Russ and Jayne one evening and was surprised to find Chris Eubank also staying there. We were having a drink I the bar we obliged Chris when he asked to have his picture taken with us, (or was it the other way around?), can’t quite remember!
This was to be another very eventful year, in fact each year in this decade was becoming pretty full on. Lindsay was very persistent regarding the fact that she wanted a child and after many discussions and in depth conversations, Linds became pregnant.
Fields had lost the big orders from their main clients and were cutting the workforce. The maintenance department would need to be cut by two bodies. Big Shaun was emigrating ‘down under’ and taking into consideration the time I’d taken off because of the operations, I thought it was best for me to accept redundancy rather than be pushed, so I volunteered and left in the middle of the year.
Shaun and I had a night out in Huddersfield with the lads from Fields but the festivities didn’t end too well for myself. We’d all drunk plenty and had been split up into different groups. I was in a gaff with Blandy, Travs, Dude and Big Rob, none of whom were fighting lads. Now Rob is a big guy, around 6ft 3ins and I suppose he could be pretty dangerous if pushed to the edge but it’s not in his make up, the other three chaps just aren’t in the ‘biscuit tin’. There was a tall black kid, on a par with Rob for size, probably in his early twenties and he was strutting about saying that everyone was eyeballing his ‘skirt’ and basically trying to push someone into having a dig with him. We told him no-one was interested and that nobody was interested in his girl. He was really persistent and said he was going to slap Dude, so I told him to back off and as he raised his mits, I half got a punch in but didn’t connect fully. I have no idea if this kid was on drugs or was a boxer, or both but I have never been hit as hard and as quick in my life. It didn’t matter which way I ducked, weaved or moved, he was connecting constantly with combination shots. I went down on one knee and grabbed the front of his shirt, thinking that if I pulled him in close, I get to grips with the bastard. Well, think again; the fuckers shirt was off and the combination shots landed as hard and as fast as ever! The doormen eventually grabbed the guy and launched him out, his handful of mates following him out of the door. One of the doormen said that he’d acting up for a couple of hours and thought he was on some gear, to which I thought, maybe they could have done their job and ‘binned’ him earlier, saving me from getting knocked about! I think I landed around four shots on him and probably took around twenty from him! I wasn’t too agile on the old pins and even though I’ve overcome in excess of a couple of thousand confrontations in my life, it was time to ‘clock out’! I was ok really, a bit battered and bruised and the damn nose bone broken for the tenth time but nothing too serious and we still managed a few more ‘jars’ before heading home.
CHAPTER 17
Linds and I got married in Gretna Green on the 26th July 2007 and I couldn’t believe my luck. Here was a beautiful young woman, nearly half my age marrying me and due to give birth to our son in a few months time…… fantastic, I couldn’t have been happier. Russ and Jayne had come up to Gretna to witness the wedding and just to be there for us really, nothing too elaborate but everything we wanted. After the wedding day, the two of us spent the week in Scotland, with no distractions, just driving around and staying in some lovely hotels.
I went back to the bakery in Leeds as a Deputy Engineering Manager but the position didn’t last long. Apparently there was a court hearing coming up and the purse strings had to be tightened, so my job was one of the first to be axed. I wasn’t too happy at the time but the birth of our son George, soon put the job situation well in the shade. There was a slight matter for concern which led to the birth becoming a matter of urgency when the baby became stressed. The midwives had incompetently ruled out Lindsay’s claim that her waters had broken hours earlier, even although three of them had examined her! A female doctor was on the scene and luckily, she was more up on her game than the midwives and George was born fit and healthy. The initial bond between baby and parent is something that cannot really be described or compared to but one proverb is one hundred percent correct:-
“Children are a poor man’s treasure!”
My nan had been diagnosed with cancer and at 97 years old, we all knew it was just a matter of time. The whole family had no doubts that she would pass the one hundred mark, so it was a massive shock when the cancer kicked in. Nan just carried on as though she was fit and well, not wanting anyone to make a fuss or treat her any different, she was one tough and independent old bird! The look on her face was indescribable when we took George to see her, to bring so much happiness to someone with no real effort, is a total joy that not be compared to.
Over Christmas, my brother Pete said they were going into the ‘holiday let’ business and he wanted me to work for them, renovating properties and bringing them up to a ‘letting’ standard.
I would drive up to Northumberland on a Monday, work until Friday afternoon and then drive back down to Linds and George. It was hard work but satisfying and enjoyable, although the strain was showing on Lindsay due to time we were spending apart. We decided to put the gears in motion, with the view to relocating up in the sticks in Northumberland.
Nan passed away just prior to her 98th birthday and it was definitely a big blow to us all. The woman was a sheer inspiration to every one who knew her. We had visions of her outliving us all, such was her bond with life and her determination to overcome every obstacle that crossed her path. My brother Pete’s wife Sue, wrote a nice letter to the Queen explaining that nan would have easily passed the hundred mark if the cancer hadn’t suddenly kicked in and was so looking forward to receiving the much sort after telegram. She received a nice reply in the form of a letter from one of the Queen’s aides expressing Her Majesty’s condolences.
Leeds had had a reasonable season and met Carlisle in the play-offs. I was working in Alnmouth, Northumberland, a great little place quite near to Alnwick, where some of the Harry Potter filming was done. I was staying at the property that I was working on and was watching the play off match in a local pub called the Sun. Leeds hit the winner with a few minutes to go and I hit the roof! The whole pub stopped and stared at the lunatic, jumping up and down and shouting at the top of his voice. The landlord just said that the quiz was starting shortly and not to mind the Neanderthal Leeds bloke!!
There’s an old saying………………..
“Tha can allus tell a Yorkshireman but tha can’t tell him much bart owt !”……………….especially when he’s celebrating victory involving his footie team!
The New Wembley was the venue as Leeds played Doncaster for a place in the next tier and the hallowed ground was swamped with a white blanket as the Leeds masses filled London. There was reported to be over one hundred thousand Leeds fans in the capital on the day of the play-off final and expectations were high. There were large gaps in the Doncaster sectors and half a dozen of us managed to get in their ‘end’ behind the goal. It wasn’t long before a couple of hundred ‘Whites’ were grouped in the area but the law were soon in there with an equal number. We were totally surrounded by the ‘plod’ and weren’t even allowed to access any of the facilities. Come half time, we were ushered out in two’s to use the toilets and under the stands, were lines of Riot Cops!! We blew the game and lost 1-0, what a nightmare………stuck in the shitty division for another season, profoundly heartbreaking!
Linds, George and myself went to live in a beautiful little village called Embleton, a few miles from Alnwick. The bungalow was quite large and had spacious lawned gardens at both the back and front. The location was ideal for me to work from, taking into consideration that there was a company property at Alnmouth and one at Seahouses, both approximately 8 miles from Embleton. We loved the location, there are 2 pubs, a pub/restaurant, hotel, church, Post Office and local store, with a five minute walk down to the beach. The accent there was sometimes a little difficult to get to grips with, as a few folk spoke with the ‘Border’ twang, which is a mix of accents. Nevertheless, the locals were nice people and easy to get on with.
My mate Paul ‘tatey’ Hayton was fifty and to celebrate the occasion, we were to have a 30 strong excursion to Prague! We were on two large mini busses and the atmosphere was ‘tops’, until we hit a snag on the motorway. There had been some kind of smash and the delays were horrendous. The first bus managed to get to the East Midlands airport on time but the second was caught up in major traffic and half a dozen mobile phones were red hot, trying to get something sorted at the check in desks. The airport staff were great and extended the check-in time by around 45 minutes for us, so, panic over and we all managed to board.
We hit the ‘lush’ as soon as we arrived in Prague, while a couple of the lads sorted out the digs. The apartment block was, let’s say, … different! I was in an apartment that had half a dozen rooms, with Russ, Greigy, his son Pat and Sean Gorman. There was plenty of room really but the place was nothing to write home about, albeit, adequate for lads on the booze. The floor below us was flooded out the next day, after a waste pipe backed up and there was human waste everywhere. It’s funny to think of it now but at the time, it was a nightmare for Roger, Stocky, Carl and the rest of the guys on that level.
For those of you that have never been to Prague, half of the city is sound and buzzing and the other half is a shit hole! The alcohol prices reflect the part of the city that you’re in really, although there are plenty of dodgy fuckers in all areas. England’s footie team was playing Kazakhstan and we were in a big boozer in the decent side of the city, drinking like it was going out of fashion! After England had won the game 5-1, Mick and Stocky were ‘leathered’ and got a taxi to take them back to the digs. Half an hour later, they were wondering around outside the same pub!! Apparently the taxi bloke had charged them around thirty quid, drove the dim fuckers in a large circle and dropped them back at the pick up spot!! You could not make it up in your dreams!! There were plenty of Black guys outside the bars trying to entice us in with various drinks offers etc but the most outrageous chat line was, “Do you want to see a monkey shagging a dwarf?”. Mal and Phil were in hysterics after being thrown this line and Mal was almost physically sick at the thought! Needless to say, nobody paid to view the event!
A couple of local hookers ended up in the apartment block and two of our guys were left with considerable amounts of cash missing from their wallets due to ‘ladies’ light fingers! There were plenty more incidents on that quality trip, with Reynolds and John Marlow venturing into a local bar in a less desirable area. After being eyeballed for a few minutes, two of the dozen or so dodgy looking fuckers got up and locked the main doors. The landlord went barmy, shouting and carry on at the blokes, before opening the doors and quickly shoving John and Ian out onto the street. The silly bastards went back the next day to ‘show face’ and the landlord give them a round of ‘fucks’, telling them to clear off while they still could! The morning we were due to leave, I was outside the apartments and a fucking great fish came from nowhere and hit me on the shoulder!! I lost it slightly, screaming at the top of my voice but nobody stuck there head out of a window to own up to the ‘flying fish’. I had to get washed, changed and dump the stinking shirt only to find out later that it was Hayton who had randomly launched the fish straight out of the window into the street and not at me (supposedly!).
We returned to The Harp of Erin pub in Bradford, where most of the guys had a few beers before heading off home. There were plenty of folk in there for a Monday evening and most of them were lashed up. Two ‘old boys’ were threatening to have a piece of each other, one of whom was dressed in a smart suit, shirt and tie. The ‘suited’ geezer fell over backwards, landed on his arse beneath table that had a few drinks on it. The table rocked and a full pint tipped over, covering the old fellows head, soaking the silly pillock through!! Both myself and Hayton were actually crying with laughter, it was one of the funniest things I had ever witnessed in my life!
The right knee was giving me a bit of grief and after seeing the consultant in Northumberland, it was bad news. Apparently there was an infection in the knee and the full joint had to be removed, which was massive set back for me. The joint was taken out and a ‘spacer’ put in place to keep the Femur, the Tibia and the Fibula apart. The leg was then pumped full of antibiotics and I was hopping around on crutches for three full months! When the consultants were sure that the infection was well and truly gone, The ‘spacer’, all scar tissue and what was left of any ligaments were removed and a full chrome joint implemented. So there I was, with yet another 30 plus staples in my limb but on the mend again, or so I thought! I was managing to get around without crutches but had some really bad pains in the left leg and went to get checked out. The staff at A&E at Wansbeck hospital said that I damaged the tissues in my and sent me packing, advising me to rest. A couple of days later, I couldn’t stand on the leg and returned to the hospital. They rushed me in an ambulance to Newcastle’s Freeman hospital stating that there was no blood flow into the foot and I was in serious danger of losing the leg. I had to have a vein/artery graft because the femaral posterior tibial artery had blocked and I was in surgery for around nine hours. The worst case scenario was amputation of the lower leg or the loss of two or three toes. The operation was deemed a success and the sense of relief when waking to find both lower limbs still intact is indescribable. So it was a case of resting the leg in the hospital for a week and that meant around a hundred mile trip for Linds and the boy each day….. not ideal.
Chaz dropped everything and came straight up from “God’s own County” to visit me and see if there was anything I needed. He spent a good couple of hours at the bedside and then set off back home, a top man! Another top geezer that turned up out of the blue was Doug. He’d apparently come over from Spain to see family and visit his old man’s grave in Northumberland, whereupon, he thought he’d call in on Linds and myself. It was a nice surprise when the big fella walked into the hospital ward clutching a bunch of grapes!
I was recovering well but developing properties was becoming harder as the market was tight and the prices had stabilised, I realistically knew that we would have to contemplate moving back down to Yorkshire. People always state that working for family is, most of the time, a no-go area and I can only say that I gave it my best shot but it was just not meant to be. Not to worry, there was no ‘fall out’ or anything like that, we just called it a day and it was back down ‘home’. Pete thought the country was going down the tubes and was looking to move abroad with Sue and the boys.
My daughter Lucy married Robin and I couldn’t have hoped for a better son-in –law. The wedding was a plush event and quite a few people put the effort in to ensure that, mainly Lucy’s mum Sue. Walking down that aisle and giving my daughter away was a really proud and prestigious moment for me. My baby was all grown up and I think that her mother and I had done a half decent job in assisting that. I reckon that my ‘Father’s speech’ went down quite well, I received a good round of applause and no boos and hope I did them proud. I remember thinking that even though I’d been a Best Man four times, giving a speech as the Father of the bride was the most difficult.
