I held back telling Consultant Gas about the new job, and on the day I gave my notice in they matched the new salary, plus a tempting offer of overtime..
The diary shows that I did not immediately tell Wortley Conveyors of this counter offer, in addition, less than a week later, although I was fundamentally on the drawing board, I was still tasked with the dinner run and rather irritated by it.
I was progressing my Higher National Certificate at Wigan Technical College, Nightschool with Mark Gaskill, I had written off the Wolseley Hornet and a Hillman Imp surfaced through his dads garage.
More about that next.
In the meantime, college was a major drag and Mark was about to be married, so there was plenty of reasons for alchohol (there always are) and I was also pissed off with the whole atmosphere at the Gas place.
On the 23rd December, I gave my notice in again, this time to really go to Wortley Conveyors who had listened to all my excuses and kindly offered me a job again.
It was going to be a new year, a new job, a new home and within five months, a son.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Consultant Gas
A small job that never ended up on my resume, however, it was a lifesaver.
It was the middle of September in 1977 and the three of us had been living at the father in laws apartment, crammed into a small space and tempers constantly flaring.
It had been a good week, I had received my first "giro" which was back payment from the dole office (Social Security) and applied at this gas consulting firm in Skelmersdale.
In the first weeks I was spraying cabinets, brazing and draughting. In addition, I became the tea boy and the lad who went for all the dinners down to the chippy, I did not mind this part at all as I was allowed to drive the works van.
It was just what we needed, some regular pay and the local housing department finally gave us a council house to live in.
We moved in to 29 Inglewhite, Skelmersdale on the 10th October, 1977 which coincidently was the day I had an interview at Wortley Conveyors, for a "real" draftsmans job.
The days as a boy Friday were numbered...
It was the middle of September in 1977 and the three of us had been living at the father in laws apartment, crammed into a small space and tempers constantly flaring.
It had been a good week, I had received my first "giro" which was back payment from the dole office (Social Security) and applied at this gas consulting firm in Skelmersdale.
In the first weeks I was spraying cabinets, brazing and draughting. In addition, I became the tea boy and the lad who went for all the dinners down to the chippy, I did not mind this part at all as I was allowed to drive the works van.
It was just what we needed, some regular pay and the local housing department finally gave us a council house to live in.
We moved in to 29 Inglewhite, Skelmersdale on the 10th October, 1977 which coincidently was the day I had an interview at Wortley Conveyors, for a "real" draftsmans job.
The days as a boy Friday were numbered...
Long Day
August 26th, 1977
I travelled down to London, by train, for what I thought would be the last time. I was full of mixed emotions as I arrived at Romford, the flat was in complete dissarray, the furniture and belongings that we could not fit in the van littered the place, and I sat on the bedroom floor and cried.
I felt as though my life was in a downward spiral, I had deliberately forced the Ford Motor company into a corner, they politely asked me to leave, and here I was, jobless and actually homeless, about to drive away into the unknown.
I scouted the flat and found some treasures that we had forgotten, packed them into the Wolseley Hornet and after dropping off the keys, drove off towards the North of England.
It was a long day.
I travelled down to London, by train, for what I thought would be the last time. I was full of mixed emotions as I arrived at Romford, the flat was in complete dissarray, the furniture and belongings that we could not fit in the van littered the place, and I sat on the bedroom floor and cried.
I felt as though my life was in a downward spiral, I had deliberately forced the Ford Motor company into a corner, they politely asked me to leave, and here I was, jobless and actually homeless, about to drive away into the unknown.
I scouted the flat and found some treasures that we had forgotten, packed them into the Wolseley Hornet and after dropping off the keys, drove off towards the North of England.
It was a long day.
Pack up your troubles
August 25th, 1977
We packed all our wordly goods, well 90% of them, into the back of this fine vehicle - I was going to return by train to pick up the Wolseley and the rest of the stuff. Then set off, early evening, into the unknown. I can remember stopping somewhere on the North Circular road for a couple of Kebabs. The Wife was installled in the mass of belongings along with our young daughter Susan. The Kebabs were great!, this was going to be fun....
We broke down on the A406 which was about an hour into the journey home. I parked on the hard shoulder and walked up the sloped banking to the roundabout. For some reason, perhaps a slight noise, I looked back at the Van from the top of the slope. At that Instant a motorcyclist hit the drivers side rear wing and the bike and occupant spiralled off down the road. It was a dream like sequence, unreal. Here's a strange reaction - I ran to the phone box and called the AA before going back to the Van - a moment of panic I suppose, the inability to cope with a situation.
When I returned the bike rider was sitting in the Van with my wife and the baby, he was shaken up but unhurt. I'm a bit unclear about what happened next but I think the AA van rolled up and the driver asked the guy if he was alright. He said he was, and that the accident was his fault as he'd been at college pretty late and was tired - he may have even fallen asleep. His bike was still rideable so he went off into the night. The van's problem was diagnosed and we were off again.
We arrived in Skelmersdale in the wee hours, dawn was breaking and we broke down again outside the Concourse at about 4 a.m.- within two miles of our destination. I called the AA again from the police station, waited half an hour for them to arrive. This time it was the distributor rotor. We finally rolled up at my wifes fathers house in time for breakfast.
We packed all our wordly goods, well 90% of them, into the back of this fine vehicle - I was going to return by train to pick up the Wolseley and the rest of the stuff. Then set off, early evening, into the unknown. I can remember stopping somewhere on the North Circular road for a couple of Kebabs. The Wife was installled in the mass of belongings along with our young daughter Susan. The Kebabs were great!, this was going to be fun....
We broke down on the A406 which was about an hour into the journey home. I parked on the hard shoulder and walked up the sloped banking to the roundabout. For some reason, perhaps a slight noise, I looked back at the Van from the top of the slope. At that Instant a motorcyclist hit the drivers side rear wing and the bike and occupant spiralled off down the road. It was a dream like sequence, unreal. Here's a strange reaction - I ran to the phone box and called the AA before going back to the Van - a moment of panic I suppose, the inability to cope with a situation.
When I returned the bike rider was sitting in the Van with my wife and the baby, he was shaken up but unhurt. I'm a bit unclear about what happened next but I think the AA van rolled up and the driver asked the guy if he was alright. He said he was, and that the accident was his fault as he'd been at college pretty late and was tired - he may have even fallen asleep. His bike was still rideable so he went off into the night. The van's problem was diagnosed and we were off again.
We arrived in Skelmersdale in the wee hours, dawn was breaking and we broke down again outside the Concourse at about 4 a.m.- within two miles of our destination. I called the AA again from the police station, waited half an hour for them to arrive. This time it was the distributor rotor. We finally rolled up at my wifes fathers house in time for breakfast.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Mister Cheapy
August 23rd 1977
Ford Transit Van.
Registration number : I don't think I ever knew the answer to that question.
Cost : One hundred and fifty quid. From a dealer called Mr.Cheapy in the East End of London. (Would you buy a used Van from a guy called Mr.Cheapy?) He sold it on the understanding that it needed the clutch replacing. When I drove it back to our flat in Romford I realised he wasn't kidding....I also realised it drove like a van.
1500 cc engine. 4 speed manual. Blue paint. Vinyl seats.
This was a shed. It was bought for one reason only - to move our belongings from A.(Romford) to B.(Skelmersdale) - We'd tried to hire a van but no-one in their right mind would do it with a 20 year old unemployable apprentice.
I took the van to the Ford garage (Johns of Romford) and asked for a quote on the clutch. Then, as time was important, (we had to get out of the flat by a certain date) we put it in that afternoon. Fords also replaced a part of the exhaust manifold, which although very nice of them, was not really in our budget - I think the clutch + manifold + applicable taxes came to about eighty quid. Super!
Well, it was taxed, Insured and roadworthy...
We were ready for the big move.
Ford Transit Van.
Registration number : I don't think I ever knew the answer to that question.
Cost : One hundred and fifty quid. From a dealer called Mr.Cheapy in the East End of London. (Would you buy a used Van from a guy called Mr.Cheapy?) He sold it on the understanding that it needed the clutch replacing. When I drove it back to our flat in Romford I realised he wasn't kidding....I also realised it drove like a van.
1500 cc engine. 4 speed manual. Blue paint. Vinyl seats.
This was a shed. It was bought for one reason only - to move our belongings from A.(Romford) to B.(Skelmersdale) - We'd tried to hire a van but no-one in their right mind would do it with a 20 year old unemployable apprentice.
I took the van to the Ford garage (Johns of Romford) and asked for a quote on the clutch. Then, as time was important, (we had to get out of the flat by a certain date) we put it in that afternoon. Fords also replaced a part of the exhaust manifold, which although very nice of them, was not really in our budget - I think the clutch + manifold + applicable taxes came to about eighty quid. Super!
Well, it was taxed, Insured and roadworthy...
We were ready for the big move.
Stupid.
The big (long) move from London to Skelmersdale was interesting enough, there was the K70L and the the Wolseley Hornet, and in the middle a beaten up Ford van because no-one would rent us one.
When I moved the car up North, I was alone in the K70L and I picked up a hitchhiker on the motorway and wished I hadn't, I ended up going out of my way and virtually delivered the guy to his front door and he must have thought I was a complete homosexual or something. Also the fact that the car was full of stuff must have made him think I was a professional cat burglar.
Subsequently I lost interest in the car, mainly because the Wolseley was more fun and cheaper to drive. I ended up selling it to a guy in Kirkby. (August 16th 1977). I think he asked me "This hasn't had any body work done has it?" and, of course I told him the truth...
I think it was sold for about six hundred and eighty quid, less than six months after it was bought and after all that money was poured into it for the exhaust, wipers and paint job.
Stupid.
When I moved the car up North, I was alone in the K70L and I picked up a hitchhiker on the motorway and wished I hadn't, I ended up going out of my way and virtually delivered the guy to his front door and he must have thought I was a complete homosexual or something. Also the fact that the car was full of stuff must have made him think I was a professional cat burglar.
Subsequently I lost interest in the car, mainly because the Wolseley was more fun and cheaper to drive. I ended up selling it to a guy in Kirkby. (August 16th 1977). I think he asked me "This hasn't had any body work done has it?" and, of course I told him the truth...
I think it was sold for about six hundred and eighty quid, less than six months after it was bought and after all that money was poured into it for the exhaust, wipers and paint job.
Stupid.
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