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      Contents

       Dedication

      Part One: The Story of Arthur Hobhouse

      Arthur Hobhouse is a Happening

      Three Red Funnels and an Orchestra

Kookaburras, Cockatoos and Kangaroos

Cooper’s Station and Piggy Bacon and God’s Work

Suffer Little Children

Wes Snarkey’s Revenge

Saints and Sinners

Mrs Piggy to Ida

“Only One Way Out”

“Did We Have the Children Here for This?”

“Just Watch Me”

“For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow”

Wide as the Ocean

“Couple of Raggedy Little Scarecrows”

Henry’s Horrible Hat Hole

I Must Go Down to the Sea

Scrambled Eggs and Baked Beans

“You’re my Boys, Aren’t You?”

Freddie Dodds

One January Night

An Orphan Just the Same

Things Fall Apart

       The Centre Will Not Hold

       Oh Lucky Man!

       Kitty Four

       Part Two: The Voyage of the Kitty Four

       What Goes Around, Comes Around

       Two Send-offs, and an Albatross

       Jelly Blobbers and Red Hot Chili Peppers

       And Now the Storm Blast Came

       Just Staying Alive

       “Hey Ho Little Fish Don’t Cry, Don’t Cry”

       Around the Horn, and with Dolphins Too!

       Dr Marc Topolski

       “One Small Step for Man”

       Alone on a Wide Wide Sea

       “London Bridge is Falling Down”

       Now you’ve read the book

       Afterword

       Acknowledgements

Part One The Story of Arthur Hobhouse

       Arthur Hobhouse is a Happening

      I should begin at the beginning, I know that. But the trouble is that I don’t know the beginning. I wish I did. I do know my name, Arthur Hobhouse. Arthur Hobhouse had a beginning, that’s for certain. I had a father and a mother too, but God only knows who they were, and maybe even he doesn’t know for sure. I mean, God can’t be looking everywhere all at once, can he? So where the name Arthur Hobhouse comes from and who gave it to me I have no idea. I don’t even know if it’s my real name. I don’t know the date and place of my birth either, only that it was probably in Bermondsey, London, sometime in about 1940.

      The earliest memories I have are all confused somehow, and out of focus. For instance, I’ve always known I had a sister, an older sister. All my life she’s been somewhere in the deepest recesses either of my memory or my imagination – sometimes I can’t really be sure which – and she was called Kitty. When they sent me away, she wasn’t with me. I wish I knew why. I try to picture her, and sometimes I can. I see a pale delicate face with deep dark eyes that are filled with tears. She is giving me a small key, but I don’t remember what the key is for. It’s on a piece of string. She hangs it round my neck, and tells me I’m to wear it always. And then sometimes I hear her laugh, an infectious giggle that winds itself up into a joyous cackle. My sister cackles like a kookaburra.

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