Sort of living locations 1949 - 1975
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| Entrepreneur V1.0 1974. Note my #1 seller: Joss Stick holders on top, plus miscellaneous junk |
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| Harris, the gorgeous Sue and me (with Marg taking pix), at a rented cottage in Cornwall. May 1972. Freshly passed exams |
Truth be told, I had had enough of electrical engineering, complete with my newly enlightened view of the world. I loved the Mathematics, but the practical applications became a bit mundane.
My lower second, well deserved I must admit, meant that I couldn't take my lined up masters in some kind of social techno ambitions
However, my living allowances and grants finish on the last day of term, and I was broke. My still flat mate Harris, me and girlfriends Sue and Marg, did a trip down to Cornwall for a week in April.
Engineering was something I thought would have been in demand, but, no, upon my return, straight onto the dole I go.
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| My saving grace - unlimited resin |
My huge wodge of cash from the North sea of 1970, no longer, now completely spent on all manner of items. Mainly LP's and my beloved Moggy (Morris minor convertible)
The flat I had in Hayes, was a pretty dreadful place, as was most of the outer western reaches of London.
There were four of us there after Uni. Me and three others all working as junior managers at the same gas station. Harris, Winser and Hmmm ?
I remained unemployed living off of god know what, this was well before my pitch at Green Park took over funding me, but eventually got a job in a factory that could have inspired Dante's Inferno. Dubilier at Park Royal
The flat I had in Hayes, was a pretty dreadful place, as was most of the outer western reaches of London.
There were four of us there after Uni. Me and three others all working as junior managers at the same gas station. Harris, Winser and Hmmm ?
I remained unemployed living off of god know what, this was well before my pitch at Green Park took over funding me, but eventually got a job in a factory that could have inspired Dante's Inferno. Dubilier at Park Royal
There were lots of really ancient and dangerous machine making resistors/.
They were constantly breaking down. Fairly ancient safety devices too. I almost killed myself on one a few months into my gig there
They were constantly breaking down. Fairly ancient safety devices too. I almost killed myself on one a few months into my gig there
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| Even these guys eventually got relion |
A workshop after hours where no one bothered me
Secondly, it was the year of the chess championship of Spassky & Fisher.
As funny as it may sound now, in the age of the instant internet of things, a couple of chess geeks playing against each other in Iceland actually gripped the world at the time.
This coincidence was useful as in the cold dark evenings as Autumn turned to winter, I could play in the workshop without anyone bothering to find out what I was at.
I found some rubber molds for the Isle of Lewis chess pieces in the darkest of UK - Hull, bought a basic kit, and set to work.
I only bought the absolute minimum, 1 of each piece, so I had to play around a lot, and work out how to actually make them but eventually, I had assembled a full set. (Mum eventually threw it out with a pile of my other stuff when I was in Africa, so I no longer have it...... Sigh)
It took about a week to "perfect" my technique of mixing, pouring and de bubbling the molds, so eventually, most of them started to come out relatively perfect. I can only assume that I made a whole bunch of these pieces into chess sets during my employment here. I know I bought a lot of moulds and started churning them out, somewhere.
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| My mate Beevor working on my moggy at my flat in what eventually became my workshop. 1974? |
It took about a week to "perfect" my technique of mixing, pouring and de bubbling the molds, so eventually, most of them started to come out relatively perfect. I can only assume that I made a whole bunch of these pieces into chess sets during my employment here. I know I bought a lot of moulds and started churning them out, somewhere.
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| The kitchen in my Hayes flat Multi Use craft workshop |
I never sold a one, and eventually trashed them, but they gave the pitch a semblance of use.
To cut to the chase, come New Years Day, 1973, Marg (she of the girlfriend) and I arose very early, sneaking out of her apartment at 6:30AM, we headed to Green Park to grab a pitch from those too hung over to bother to get up.
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| I met Sarah, my lifelong friend the first day. January 1st, 1973 She tried selling knitted hats for £7.00... Not many takers |
Luckily, there were at least 4 other chancers there that morning looking similarly for a pitch. Also luckily, I grabbed a pitch right at the end of the fence, and 3 new folks got the ones closer to the regulars who didn't actually turn up to claim any of their regular spot that day. I eventually let another jewellery pitch right at the end to my right, backing onto the park entrance, and I was insulated from the other goons who realising their lackadaisical lie in from the previous week, had cost them about 20 metres of their old space. Tough!
Essentially, I had a big pitch, and these other newbies fought with the regulars until they gave up about a month later.
Green Park is right in the middle of London across the road from Buckingham Palace.
I snagged a pitch at High Park corner and Constitution Hill.
There seemed to be (I learned, some ancient right of artisans to display their wares there, and the police could only arrest you if they caught you actually selling anything. I had several run ins with the cops, but they couldn't touch me. Sure, my resin based chess pieces were hardly art or crafted by an "artisan", but what is art anyway? None of the cops wanted to get too deep with that one.
This free for all lasted until the entire place was licensed for use, complete with numbers on your pitches late in 1975. What a coincidence you say.
Green Park is right in the middle of London across the road from Buckingham Palace.
I snagged a pitch at High Park corner and Constitution Hill.
There seemed to be (I learned, some ancient right of artisans to display their wares there, and the police could only arrest you if they caught you actually selling anything. I had several run ins with the cops, but they couldn't touch me. Sure, my resin based chess pieces were hardly art or crafted by an "artisan", but what is art anyway? None of the cops wanted to get too deep with that one.
This free for all lasted until the entire place was licensed for use, complete with numbers on your pitches late in 1975. What a coincidence you say.
Somehow, until the summer of 1975, I, and occasionally Newt as a stand in, I kept the pitch going every Sunday, rain, hail, snow, and most blissfully, sun. As I remember, there were in fact very few washouts
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| Pre beard, post Entrepreneur I concept Sheer desperation as I remember |
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| Luckily, it was a guys apartment so this wasn't unusual Note Jackson Pollock type "Art" Summer 1973 |
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| The Royal Horseguards. A regular Sunday event on the Hill (as in Constitution) |
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| Some days were incredibly slow. Sarah lasted about a year |
They needed some computer expert. This I wasn't, my degree was in microwaves and telecommunications, but they needed someone, and I was available. I could and did start the next day at Data Dynamics, a leader in the field of Teletypes (you what?), for not very much money
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| My pitch in all its glory. 3 frames - all mine "Art" such as Pollack like paintings and other dross |
I went from there. No one else knew much about it, and if they did, they weren't sharing.
This computer had 16 bits, and I believe 8Kb of ferrite (as in ferrous, ie IRON) core memory, all hand wired. It needed to be hand coded by switching the front switches up or down, then another hand switch setting it in memory. See pic.
Try explaining this to a modern day programmer.
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| A Digital Corp PDP8. 1973. with an amazing 8KB of memory. The code shown here is "0600" |
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I was right on the corner. No vehicle traffic,
but lots of tourists. Buckingham Palace as backdrop
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At Brunel I had tried to write a program in Algol which required you to write instruction, send it to a punch card clerk and 2 weeks later, receive these cards back. I gave up after the first try knowing that I would never waste my time on this futile pursuit ever again......
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Freedom of speech
Every week a new demonstration about something
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Luckily, heard that before? I found a manual in the back of a cupboard that no one had ever bothered to read.
If you actually worked your way through the book, a sample board with an example of how to design one was there for me to use.
It wasn't for the functions I needed, but it was a great start which not only gave me the details of how to design an interface board, but also the relevant signals on the computer bus board too.
No help with the programming, so I can claim that one totally for myself!
If you actually worked your way through the book, a sample board with an example of how to design one was there for me to use.
It wasn't for the functions I needed, but it was a great start which not only gave me the details of how to design an interface board, but also the relevant signals on the computer bus board too.
No help with the programming, so I can claim that one totally for myself!
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| The pitch became the centre of my life in 1974. London is not much fun without the cash to support it |
I'd programmed the computer, each BIT of each instruction manually by flipping switches on the front of the computer, this for every instruction of the program. But it sure beat sending your code off to the punching clerks.
Of course, you guessed it, much to my stunned surprise, and I believe, everyone elses, it worked perfectly first time, repeatedly printing 5 inch high letters of "BUM" on the print out.
Of course, all the office knew what a big deal this was and in a strictly British kind of way, gave me muted congratulations, but no pay rise
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| Some days we only had each other |
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| Barry, a real perv |
During this time, I met someone at work who was not only just as crazy as I was, but probably more so. Roger, aka "Brown" & I had such a fantastic time and the best part was, we were incredibly good at our jobs too. A very unusual combination. So we would be working our way through a board design and would be having such a roll on the floor laugh, that the manager of the room Roger worked in, actually banned me because we created such a diversion. It was quite simply, one of the best environment I've ever worked in before or since, and we both exploited it incredibly well. We also had a great social element there, and I often organised London trips like Monty Python at Drury Lane. I got us boxes on opposite sides of the theatre and played against each other all night. Magic stuff
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| John, left. Probably the only real artist there |
This being the case, I also assume that I started this degree in September 1973, so I had to give up my job at Data Dynamics. I certainly remember cheering on various sides watching the Yom Kippur war at the students Union, so this was October.
It turned out to be far too intense and boring having been out into the real "fun" world too long to be bothered to study any more.
I obviously, apparently, didn't give up my flat, or my pitch, as come October, I gave up the masters, returned to Data Dynamics and continued with my pitch
Back at my old company, I followed up my previous successes (how could they not re employ me?), with another interface for a punched paper tape auto loader for a teletype. (Hey! This was 1974 remember).
Again, my part worked perfectly, yep, first time
I was obviously destined for much greater things.
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My ex, Marg, (right) maybe a year after denouement,
counselling some distraught single mother. Spring 1975 at the pitch The barbed wire wall behind is Buckingham Palace
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This latter project occurred during the winter of union militancy in UK, 1974.
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Total washouts were in fact exceedingly rare
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As it happens, around this time, I was informed that I was going to be a father. Marg had had so much trouble on birth Conrol pills with constant migraines that she eventually gave them up and adopted an obviously less than 100% method. Just what I needed. She was blissfully happy.
This was not a good time for me, but she seemed to be blissfully consumed by the idea. I started to plan my emigration to Australia.
Eventually, she miscarried, and we were together, including a week in Valencia, downhill from there for a few more months until about April 1974 I believe
Back at the ranch, as in "career".....
Unfortunately, the company, while offering great technology (for the era), I was beginning to expect more money for my now obvious talents.So as my next project was to write a program to test and troubleshoot a computer board repair program, after about a week, deeming this far too boring, I started looking for another job.
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| Pre party at the pub. I explained that we were on a fund raiser for the Young Conservatives One of the guys in the flat (Chris?), Sue & me. Winter 1974 |
The raw ingredients were expensive, but I bought in bulk, 5 gallons at a time, and made a lot of chess sets. Satisfyingly, I soon found a use for all of my less than perfect pieces.
"Joss Stick Holders".
These actually turned out to be the star revenue generator. Maybe 30 - 60 per week at about 50 - 80p each, 2, 3 or even 4 chess sets a week at 6 - 9 quid each.
Actually, serious money when my costs were about 10 quid.
Somehow, the weather was usually decent, and only a few of the weekends being total wash outs. I was beginning to average about Stg50 net per week, a damn sight more, maybe twice as much, than I could earn in a job.
The kitchen and the outside coal bunker became my workshops. I developed some pretty cool "aging" processes to colour the pieces, and, I think were really very authentic in a faux antique kind of way
By now, in late 1973, the original flat occupants had departed, and I managed a rotation of various tenants, the longest serving being Keith, Mick and, I believe Chris
We had our share of parties and fun in general, but by and large, the future looked dreadful.
At the age of 25, this being 1974, I felt that life really was awful. I don't think I've ever had a worse birthday.
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| Keith after a boozy night I guess, modelling a chess set at the pitch. Summer 1974 |
This was the summer when Beevor, Mick (who now lived with me), some guy across the road and me formed a band. I was vocals, passable in a grunge band kind of way, but nothing bankable.
We practiced for about 3 months until we got our first audition. I knew this was a step too far, and the band disbanded and Beevor & I departed on our train trip to the Greek Islands in August.
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| Chris, soon to be the ex of my lifelong Uni mate, Newt |
There were a group of us heading out in various travel methods. I only had my pitch, and I believe Beevor quit his job (we met at my first computing job), so we had no real return date.
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| Beevor, heading out of Milan I believe. My first international independent travel trip. August 1974 |
I had cleaned out my flat and left a massive pile of stock for Newt to sell, all conveniently packed into my moggy convertible, which was my warehouse for about 3 years
Beevor & I had bought a rail ticket to Athens and back. There were no time limits, so we would get off and camp whenever we felt like it. We departed, somewhen in August.
Our ticket allowed us to travel on any trains. Express, local, overnight. We got local trains from Triest and took 5 days to get through what was then Yugoslavia. I remember being so disgusted with the toilets, or more realistically, hole in trains, fields, cess pits etc everywhere, that somehow I forced myself to be constipated until we reached Thessalonica.
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| Me, Nicks wife, Uncle Nick and Beevor |
A few days later, we all met up again at the Athens airport and then hung out in Athens for a few more days before we headed to Sifnos for a few weeks
We had a week in a big house and just explored the island and Greek cuisine. Living on Greek salads and exploring the taverna kitchens
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| Beevor & I arrive early and meet his uncle in Athens. August 1974 |
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| Pete Swain & your correspondent on Sifnos, Greece. August 1974 |
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| Mick, Beevor, Keith and your correspondent on Sifnos |
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| Your correspondent, relaxing on the beach with Waitrose bag trying to read War & Peace September 1974 |
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| Keith & I exploring a local fig tree |
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| Sifnos harbour waiting for the ferry. Mick & girlfriend? September 1974 |
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| Sofia, Bulgaria. We were trailed around by the KGB who directed us to a party members lodging |
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| A mountain in Switzerland, October 1974 |
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| Time to head home |
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| Our final night at Octoberfest 1974 We couldn't afford too many beers |
I returned after Oktoberfest in Munich late October, 1974, arriving on a Sunday morning at Victoria station in time to meet Newt at the pitch.
Somehow, he'd done his duty but will never make a salesman. He only managed to sell about 65 pounds, just a bit more than my typical weekly income.
I felt pretty bad about it, but that was all the compensation he had for his sterling services.
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| My mate Swain. I often stayed at his place in South London |
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| Me trying to do my post Picasso impersonation impression of Swain. Not very well |
"Where have you been working"
"Brunel University as a porter"
No one checked references back then so it seemed to work and I got the job.
The room that my ex colleague got me into became a lesson in human vindictiveness .
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| Counselling a punter. Note Bohemian scarf and chapeau from Sofia (on me that is) |
I saw through her, she recognised me as someone capable of seeing through her, and summarily had her more than pliable boyfriend (I wonder why) throw me out.
People, Eh?
So, in desperation, I called Sarah for a safe house. Like an angle of mercy, she agreed and I moved in with her in a purely non biblical way. I think next night.
It was only one huge room with a kitchen and bathroom, so it was cosy, especially as it was a purely platonic friendship.
I think we got on. I certainly had a great time.
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| Sarah, Tom and Leslie. Somewhere in Paris February 1975 |
Actually, it eventually became a lot of fun
1975 I remember for many reasons:
Sarah and I became really good friends (luckily), and somehow we had a great time (well, I thought so anyway), I met Fran, got another computing job, my really good mate Pete Swain died (botched appendix operation), and I left UK, permanently as it turned out.
My driving mantra was simple: "There has to be somewhere better than this"
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Back when the left Bank was Gauche
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Sarah
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January and I snag a job as a computer repair dude, at a company called Ventek. I sort of did pretty good, but I hated the the rigidity and the dreadful management.
There were two offices, one, where I worked, near Acton was where the Workers worked, and the other office was the Head Office in Wembley where they didn't.
On one of my trips to Head Office, I saw a notice board giving details of a free benefit to the staff there
I discovered that the Office folk had access to free squash courts in their building on Fridays, but we didn't.. So, not to be a fading violet, I organised a few guys in the Workers office to use these same free facilities. I was not very much liked at the Office as these guys now had less benefits.
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| More Aussies selling jewellery at Green Park |
My job became head soup maker and volunteer to talk to the down and outs who lived, well, lots of places in London.
It was cold and brutal at 2AM under Waterloo bridge in February.
I did get some incredible insights into people.
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| Barry, waiting to pounce |
His story, probably not too different from many, was that he had been a professor at Imperial, a London university, came home one day to find his wife being naughty (my words) with one of his friends, and he just lost it. Not like killing anyone, just lost faith in humanity. I could see me doing something along these lines.myself.
After 2 years he was thinking of trying to get his life back and move into a halfway house.
It certainly adjusted my outlook toward "down and outs"
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| Fran |
I occasionally got an hour or so of kip in a bunk bed in their office near Trafalgar Square before I had to get up to rescue my car before I got a ticket at 7 or 8, then off to work my day job.
Being Friday, I had an hour or so of squash at lunch time, then after work, out to a dance or party Friday nights with some or many of my remaining mates.
Come about 2/ 3AM Saturday morning, I was a wreck and returned to Sarah's, where hopefully, she had had enough privacy
Somewhen in February, I think, Fran came into my life, funnily enough, via an invite to a party by the very same guy that got me my job and my short lived accommodation.
Even though we were only together for a few months, we had a great time investigating London together. We also went on a camping trip to Wales, almost specifically to go to Dylan Thomas' boathouse and Laugharne, aka buggeralL backwards. Thomas' fans will know what I mean
I was desperately in need of some form of feeling of some value to someone.
We parted on great terms when I eventually left for Africa
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| Keith, a flat mate enjoying a do it yourself lunch Summer 1975 |
Sarah left to go back to the States and I had the apartment to myself. Now it became my workshop.
I fine tuned my production methods to the point where I only needed about a day per week to produce whatever I sold. It was a tenuous and really enjoyable time.
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The happy couple. Now Sue is Rays problem
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Somewhen, Sue, my not quite sister, got married to Ray. I think they have been pretty happy or at least as happy as she is allowed, ever since
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Sue finds her match, via Brunel,
but no one's perfect
Rays sister, his dad, my mum, Sue, Ray, the old Man |
Swain was buried on the very day that Newt and Lindy got married. It was a very distraught time for everyone that knew him, and I had to rely on the ministrations of one of my sworn enemies (don't ask): Travs wife Bobby.
However, with her and Paula's counselling and concern, I actually came out of this tragedy fully reformed and ready for the new world and hence, for my leap into the unknown.
My mates from Uni, David and his wife, Franny had a brother Redmond, who I'd met long years before at various Hereford piss ups.
He had recently moved to Nairobi as an ex pat, and I'd written to ask if I could stay with him while I searched for a job there.
He wrote back and my future direction was set.
I decided to give up everything UK. Everything was given away, sold, or for very special items, left with Mum
I found an overland tour group (Aardvark?) working out of a house literally 2 blocks away in Hampstead. I felt that the trip at least offered me a way out of UK without me having to think too much about the details and the horrors of single traveling.
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| I decided on a trip around Scotland before I ventured to Africa |
I gave up my job (they were idiots and didn't deserve me after all), made lots of chess sets and lodged them with my mate Brown in case I needed to come back and make another tenuous living, and eventually, my wonderful pitch and my wonderful moggy convertible that had looked after and housed me for all those years, were merely part of my past
Sigh. But it was all for the best
A few weeks before I left, I did a train trip around Scotland as a kind of introduction to single travel
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| Me, somewhere in Scotland. Is that bell bottoms? |
Being unemployed, I volunteered to get the visa forms and shuttle around London embassies to organise whatever needed to be done. I assume I had some spare cash at this stage, even though I remember being almost totally broke by the time I got to South Africa.
Eventually, somewhen early October, what turned out to be a pretty incompatible and dysfunctional group of Kiwi's, Canadians, Aussies, Brits and Americans, set out on our trip.
I had said my goodbyes to Fran, Sarah, Tom, Leslie, Sue, Ray, my folks, all my friends and not so friends and remnants of 26 years of existence, and finally, over a pint, Newt who told me I was "running away"
I heartily agreed
As I put it several years later: "There has to be a better place than this", and, once I had actually left UK, pretty much everywhere was.
You decide as you delve further into my past. Bon chance all
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| Looks like my Triumph convertible outside of my (aka Sarah's) Hampstead pad September 1975 |
1960 - 1965, Downs Secondary Modern, Compton, Berks
1965 - 1968, SEB and South Berks College of Further Education (Newbury)
1968 - 1972, Brunel University, Uxbridge, Middlesex
1969 (Summer) Auto Diesel, Uxbridge, Middlesex
1970 (Summer) SSL Kent. Working in the North Sea and Yorkshire
1971 (Summer) Auto Diesel Uxbridge, Middlesex
1972 - Hayes, Dubilier (Sept), Marg (ongoing)
1973 - Hayes, Dubilier, Data Dynamics (March), Marg, Essex University for MSc (Sept - Oct)
1973 - Hayes, back to Data Dynamics, (Oct)
1974 - Hayes, Marg pregnant, (Dec - Mar) - Servo Test - Perivale 3 months Rock Band, flat ending August, Greece living in car/ mates, - October - December furniture moving Hanwell, November Belsize Ave
1974 - 1975 - Ventek, Circuit board company - squash. Belsize Ave Jan - July Ventek (Ha!), Green Park (till September?) Fran, St Mungos October
1973 - 1975, Chess set manufacturer, Green Park, Constitution Hill, London, distribution
1975 overland
And, as if anyone needs it, here's confirmation from none other than the BBC:
The secrets of the 'high-potential' personality - http://www.bbc.com/capital/story/20180508-the-secrets-of-the-high-potential-personality
Returning to the scene of the crime: August 2018
Gone, all gone
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| Hyde Park Corner Revisited, August 2018. Not one "Artist" in sight My (and Newts) going gentle into that good night of retirement |