together and turned the key on the side and managed to puncture the tin and make a hole. I knew that I had managed to puncture the tin because a terrifying spray of steam mixed with gravy and generally liquefied beef and God knows what else came shooting out of the hole! I leapt away in surprise and shock, and this meant that the pie was no longer being held in place! Because the tin was now spherical, it could move easily, and being propelled by a jet of steam and liquefied pie, it span around wildly on the kitchen worktop, spraying the whole kitchen and myself in boiling liquefied pie. Eventually it literally ran out of steam and came to a rest next to the sink.
I paused for a moment and looked round at the complete devastation it had caused, with bits of pie dripping from everywhere and the room full of steam and condensation. At least I wasn’t burned. Having looked around the kitchen at what had come out of the tin I decided not to try and open the rest of the tin, but did what I should have done initially, and threw the whole thing away. I cleaned up the kitchen as best I could (thank heavens for that lino! Ha!), and then went and had a good wash and changed my clothes. No more pies for me.
There was also some culinary invention going on as you had to use whatever ingredients you happened to have in. This led to my amazing invention of the Banana Omelette! All I can say is that is that it was a culinary delicacy best consigned to the annals of History!
Then there was another time when some friends came round and we got the munchies. All I had to offer them was spaghetti - nothing else, just plain spaghetti with no sauce or anything. It was the only time I ever longed to eat Banana Omelette again!
Loneliness, Leeds and ….. Stalking!
I was struggling. I was now in my third set of digs in as many months, and I was basically very lonely. I now had a room on my own, which in some ways was great, but in other ways was bad as I felt isolated, with little contact with any other students, and I couldn’t really see a way of meeting people or making friends.
The other students on my course were very friendly, but we just had little chats at break times etc. - we hardly ever went out socially, and although I went to see bands and so forth at the Students’ Union, going on your own to such events was actually more lonely than staying at home, as everyone else was having a laugh and enjoying themselves, while I stood quietly somewhere and watched everyone else having fun.
I tried to join the Hockey club, which was a complete disaster, (I went once, but was never invited back), and similarly I tried to join the sailing club, with almost identical results (I went to beginners’ sailing club every Wednesday for 3 weeks in a row, and each week it was cancelled due to strong winds). I even tried to enlist in the Air Cadets, remembering my passion for the Air Training Corps I’d had in younger years, but at the signing-up meeting, the officers took one look at me in my trench coat with long hair, and suggested that perhaps this wasn’t the right group for me. (Oh, things could have turned out so differently!)
I finally made a couple of friends who were on a different course, who had a flat together, and we had a lot in common. I can’t tell you how much it meant to actually have a couple of people to talk to! The problem was that I was so desperate for some company, I knew that I was in danger of going round to their flat too often and wearing out my welcome. It was a bit like being a love-struck teenager who obsesses over a new girlfriend and ends up smothering her with their attentions. And indeed, my fears were realised when I went round to see them one Sunday morning – Sunday mornings being one of the loneliest times. I went in and instead of a normal greeting, they both asked separately: ‘So, what have you come round for then?’ in a polite but clear message that I had exceeded my allocation of visits and they were tired of seeing me. They had clearly been talking about me and had both agreed that my presence was just a bit too regular. I was mortified with embarrassment, mumbled an excuse and left, never to return. My loneliness deepened.
My friends' flat that I so longed to be part of!
At about the same time my coat was stolen. My dad never bought me anything that wasn’t either for my birthday or Christmas, but one day, shortly before I was due to leave for Portsmouth, I bumped into him in town. I explained that I was there looking to buy a coat and he insisted on finding me a really good quality overcoat and buying it for me. It really was a nice coat – it fitted well, it suited me and it kept me warm and dry. Not only that but because my dad had bought it for me it was rather special.
Sometime in the Autumn term I went to a party at someone’s house one night and wore my coat as it was raining heavily. The party turned out to be the usual disaster, and after staying a short while I returned to the bedroom where everyone’s coats had been left, and of course mine was missing. Clearly because it was still raining hard some lowlife had taken it upon themselves to help themselves to my brand new coat!
I was very annoyed with the unknown person, and with myself for having left my valuable coat in such a vulnerable place. I walked home in the rain, getting soaked and feeling totally miserable. I never did get over the theft of that coat – such a simple thing, but one that meant a lot to me. Things in Portsmouth weren’t going to plan.
Roll Away the Stone
Things came to a head one evening when I went to a big concert by Mott the Hoople, or rather by Mott as they were known by then. The band were in terminal decline and had just released their new album Shouting and Pointing, which was due to fail to chart anywhere, and the band split up shortly afterwards. Once again I was on my own and I was just about at my lowest that night, and sat morosely watching the band, who were performing in a kind of club venue, with the main crowd in the middle and then with tables round the outside.
As part of the fun, they released loads of balloons and Frisbees, which were wafted and whizzed around the auditorium, and added to the enjoyment of most of the audience – apart from little old lonesome me. Towards the end of the show I walked round the side of the audience, to get a better view, and as I did so a Frisbee going at high speed caught me full on the side of my head.
Because I was in such a depressed mood at the time, instead of ducking down and exclaiming, as one would do normally, I simply stopped mid-stride and then slowly turned my head round to where the Frisbee had come from with a bit of a death stare. I could immediately see that it had come from a small group of students, as they were all looking mortified and embarrassed, and rather scared, evidently thinking that I might come and exact some revenge on them. But it had clearly been an accident, and I wasn’t sure exactly who had thrown the Frisbee anyway, so I just walked on, pretending to be a hard man, but I was hurt, hurt deep inside.
The Frisbee whacking the side of my head, thrown by fellow students who were clearly enjoying themselves, was just too much to bear, it was the last straw. I felt like it was a sign that I really wasn’t wanted, and I would never be accepted. I realised I had to do something if I was to escape this whole bad situation. Suddenly, it was obvious – I would go and see my friend Gazza in Leeds – and I would go now, there and then, without delay. And so it was that at 11.00pm that night, I left the concert, got in my beloved Mini and drove Northwards towards Leeds and the friendship of Gazza.
Leeds or bust
Going to Leeds in the middle of the night was a strange drive. To begin with, I picked up a hitchhiker who insisted on giving me some Speed, which I had never had before, and he shovelled a couple of small spoonfuls of white powder into my mouth. This led to the rest of the journey seeming to take about 6 months, as my brain was in total overdrive (unlike my little Mini!) I then
