The Autobiography

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The Autobiography

Post by Who2 » Wed Mar 11, 2015 12:54 pm

Well it's been a muggy old day no electricity, so I thought I might as well, as I have been putting off attacking the memoirs for quite a few days.
Anybody who has more time than sense to read all this please fell free to comment as I will take on board all comments, suggestions and points of elocution ? 'cheers. DrWho ?…. :cool:

This is only 10 pages………….


The Autobiography
Meetings with Remarkable Mentors.
Wed: 11th February 2015

I suppose this story should start like all good stories....
So once upon a time just over 65 years ago I was conceived in a Art Deco Hotel room overlooking the English Channel.
Luckily the hotel, Southbourne Hotel was one of my Fathers many entrepreneurial ideas.
I was the second child the first being my sister Rebecca Jane soon to become the bane of my life.
My parents George Feltham ( my 1st mentor) a Londoner my mother Mona Florence from Holy Island Anglesey.
were married soon after WW2.

Here I should say something about my parents lifestyle.
My mother had a flair for high living, antiques, gardening, haute cuisine, haute couture and fun. She was in Italy studying architecture when Mussolini joined wiz zee third Reich.
Dad and his pal Bill decide to enlist so that they could chose the safest place to be they chose badly joining the RAMC out of the original 17 only two remained Dad & Bill.
My father had a flair for entrepreneurial ventures returning from the War with obviously a considerable amount of illegally acquired money and consequently he and his wartime buddy Bill Boucher both preceded to by a hotel each, my fathers' La Valetta in Christchurch, Bills' The Pheasant on Salisbury Plain.
When my sister was born my father was playing golf during my own birth he was ice skating.
He drove a Wolseley Super Six 25 Series III Drophead, my mother an Austin 7 !
More of these 2 cars later.

Southbourne Hotel situated on the cliff tops was a large 30 roomed art deco hotel and surrounded by several acres of land which over the years was eaten away by the English channel, he paid £24k for it finally selling it for £12k.

To a small boy it was vast and a great place to grow up in, my mother had a pack of white Alsations 8 in all. Mother drove her Austin 7 around country lanes whilst my father was shooting rabbits and pheasants from it's roof to feed her expensive culinary habits and our hotel guests, I am led to believe my mother's gastronomic efforts reduced any serious profit to be had.

One of my early memories are of climbing up a ladder propped up against the outside of the hotel, 3 floors up my father spotted me without making a sound he proceeded to climb up behind me frightened that if he shouted I might fall. Totally unaware of any danger I reached the top which I believe led to my later life of climbing!

Opposite the hotel was either a Ms Colgate or a Ms Gibbs of toothpaste fame.
To our left Donald Bailey who was in the war office and designed The Bailey Bridge system also very close was the Boscome Shell House, I was often helping the old gentleman put shells into wet cement he wrote my name in shells he had the same name as me.
On our land we had a WW2 pill box looking out over the channel, this was my first camp the first of many. My father and a few friends pushed it over the cliff where it remained on the beach upside down for many a year.

I was taught ice-skating by Doreen Denny (with ice dance partner, Courtney Jones) was a two-time world ice dancing champion.
But could remember nothing about it's skill upon returning to Bournemouth Ice Rink years later.
But did find a pair of my skates later a tiny pair with two blades on either boot, my father said he made them for me.

After a few years my father acquired the Silver Grill, a fish & chip shop in Swanage whist my mother and sister lived in another acquisition another hotel, here I can remember having a great time without the taunting of my sister who from now on I will refer to as Becky.
Upon reflection I feel that our parents must have had a separation.
Tuesday the 2 June 1953 the day of our Queens Coronation, I remember it well as I gazed down upon the locals roasting a deer on waste ground when I fell out of the window luckily to land on a flat roof 20ft below, falling off things became part of my later life for me to be known as 'accident prone which still lasts 65 years later.
During this brief sojourn I remember having quite a few pals as my Dad made his own ice-creams and crisps.

My idilic life was soon cut short by the family reuniting and moving to 28 Tonbridge road in Maidstone the County Town of Kent.
Dad started a chiropody business in Maidstone & Sevenoaks.
And also became a swimming instructor.
Mum was socialising whilst teaching cooking to a Girls Borstal.
Becky later on in life took up the same career of chiropody, not for the likes of me thanks.

This is where my formative and formal education began.
My father did his best by sending Becky to several 'posh schools and she being expelled not only from Girl's Ashford School but also Maidstone Convent School.
Myself attending a primary school Buckland Hill where I proceeded to fall in love for the first time with one 7 year old Sarah Jane who had suffered polio. The pal who sat next to me Christopher Paul Langworthy was later to be chopped in half by a train whilst playing 'dare.
My next school was a preparatory, Hill Place run by a Mr & Mrs Wilson I soon gained entrance there by reading to them, I had been reading since I can remember, Hill Place was very sporty cricket, football, hockey, darts, snooker, tennis, latin and lots of singing I was a chorister, with my parents intention for me to later attend Westminster Chorale School, never to be as, my 'balls dropped so did my singing careerer.
Mind you due to Mr Locke our choir master I did mange to sing in Canterbury, Salisbury & Guildford Cathedrals.

At Hill Place Prep, I held for three years the record for being beaten and with more objects than any other pupil, cricket bats, cricket stumps, table tennis bats, slippers, canes the list was endless. Mr Wilson was a great character and had a selection of canes that the condemned individual could choose, I always chose the fattest being a self professed expert at being thrashed, even our prefects could thrash any miscreant.
Sad to say I lost my proud position to the son of the then Ugandan Ambassador.

It was here in the snooker room being Nelson Hse and our housemaster Mr Norton a great master taught us to pick locks.
The school was later purchased by the government of the day and given as tribute to James Swinburne the ex British Spy, his wife hated me and banned me from the main building !

One day in the main dining hall Drake, Rodney & Nelson Houses 150 ! of us gathered to be addressed by the headmaster, during this diatribe the head said in a loud voice “would the 'Clown kindly leave the hall” I immediately rose and left much to my own amusement and self assessment. Only to-be beaten later for some unknown and probably innocent reason.


The headmaster who had been a rugger player in his time and so liked outdoors and sport and we went camping as firstly Cub Scouts. I don’t think I ever got further than Cub Scouts, but we had several large camps with, I mean our staff were the teachers and we were people from the school and this was again, pretty normal at the time and we... I forget where we were, but we went to the south coast and were left pretty free because schoolteachers were not paranoid about their charges getting hurt as they are nowadays and we, oh we swam in the sea and we did hikes and so on. And I remember we secretly prepared for a midnight tuck as it was called, a midnight feast, and I overheard one of the teachers telling another teacher that the boys are having a midnight tuck tonight. Well they weren’t supposed to know about it, it was secret, but they didn’t break up the party, they just let it happen.
Do you remember any particular lessons at that school?
Not really. We did Latin and normal school subjects. Latin was normal at the time.
Charles Swithinbank Page 24 C1379/03 Track 1


I was often beaten by my father usually and deservedly for a very good reasons except when Becky managed to 'fit me up again for some imaginary uncommitted crime.
Not having achieved entry to the music academy I was then sent to Vinters Secondary School for Boy's the head master was (Alf) Bert Read a friend and member of the same club as my Dad.
My old housemaster Mr Norton later came to Vinters as a teacher, he and I never let on about our previous history, too embarrassing for both, I assumed.
My father, Bert Read and I later came to a deal whist I was playing him billiards in their club, The Constitutional Club he let me leave school 6 months early at 14 and a half years old.
Previously when meeting Bert would ask 'how's George ? My Dad “Why wasn't he at school today ? 'Shall you beat him or I ?

The Schools employment officer had little understanding or knowledge of what a 'chick-sexer was and how much money they could earn. So I gave him & that idea up as a dead loss and again followed my own path and my own choosing.

Maidstone was my home until the age of 19 years with my brief times at Ramsgate Catering College and a stints in London’s West End!

I move too fast so backtrack a few years, Mona my mother died when I was 8 of lung cancer during which Becky and I were relocated to Mum's Welsh sister's family in Llandudno, 'cheers.
I hated it there attending a school full of thick welsh kids but did enter and win The Eisteddfod ! held on the Great Orme, trouble is every other kid won as well, Welsh ?
I can remember my Aunt hugging me to her ample bosom crying about the fact of her sister's demise but also remember enjoying my first sexually arousing kiss with my cousin Sue?

Back to Maidstone and the family home, Dad who was doing chiropody in the evenings and a swimming instructor at Maidstone Public Swimming Pool, he invented blow up water wings and the surf-board hand push thing. Whilst Becky coming into pubescence and trying to act like mother.

It was round about this time I managed to set the house on fire, not much on fire just the cellar that held all my Dad's lathes & tools also a Savage Auto 12 bore Shotgun and a .22 match target Rifle both beautiful guns and also my chemistry set.
It was a Saturday him waiting for the football pool results on the TV I turned around and said “Max is on fire” he wasn't but the cellar below him was he seemed quite bemused white smoke billowing out from under him.
Dad sent me off to my mate Alan who's Dad who was a fireman for a couple of gas masks, the ******* called the brigade when I finally ventured back there were 2 fire engines outside hoses everywhere, now it wasn't that bad I reckon Dad had it under control anyway.
Most surprisingly he didn't beat me he just said “clean it up” it took nearly a week with 2ft of water in a bloody great big cellar.
Plus I had to re-oil all his tools which regaled every wall.
My biggest disappointment was The Kent Messenger ran the headline
“Boy sets home on fire playing with matches”.


All my mates had newspaper rounds earning 10/6 a week, whilst I became a bookies runner earning £5 on a Saturday running round the pubs collecting money and betting slips and if they won often as not gave be 'a bung.


I then progressed to collecting empty 'mixer bottles at the wrestling bouts held at the Agricultural Hall and knowing all the famed wrestlers of the day and them all knowing 'the kid that bought them drinks, I had all their autographs, as wrestling had now become popular and being televised on a Saturday with Ken Walton just before the football results on a Saturday afternoon. !!
The names Mick McManus, Billy Two Rivers, Jackie Pallo, Adrian Street, Kendo Nagasaki, Tibor Szakacs !!!
Years later whist walking down the corniche in Sitges Spain, my Dad liked to travel, walking toward us came Tibor, he said “hello George, much to my Dad's surprise.
I introduced them to one another, my dad was a big wrestling fan.

Another time in Devon I managed to fall off a cliff, finally getting to the cliff side pub my father proceeded to cross examine just to who and where he knew this old long time friend propping up the bar ?
He went on for ages questioning him, me knowing full well it was Stratford Johns he never let on and played the game to the full even to buying a round of drinks, and saying his name was Charlie.
Stratford Johns ?
D.I.Charlie Barlow of Z Cars fame and one of my Dad's favourites.

1965 a great year!
Becky left the not-so family bosom aged 17 ran and off to join Ban the Bomb, she had never taken up cooking like Mum and me, as she always had her nose stuck in a book, 'thank christ for that. I took over as the breadwinner, chef & party promotor.
Becky did return now and again with a couple of scruffs to crash the night in sleeping bags in the lounge, Canon Collins and Pete Polish much to my anger in the morning.

I need to say more about Becky here as she obviously influenced my later life.

This was an highly intelligent girl but really couldn't be bothered.
She could beat up most kids trying to beat me up, she was highly craftly plotting for months in advance ways to get me in trouble. We both had our own bedrooms except when we were very young she would also translate my screaming to our parents.
'No doubt lying.
She once accused me, which was a common occurrence to get me thrashed again, of stealing her record collection, which was quite eclectic and large. I was beaten unmercifully until 'the bitch suddenly remembered she had relocated it, 'just in case I was going to steal it, that was Becky always planning, she organised 'On the Beach' some crap Ban the Bomb stuff they appeared and broke into Butlins Bognor Regis where myself and the lads were having a weeks great holiday, we told them to **** ***, bloody beatniks...
She was known as the Bedford Bike, now this threw me for a few years, ok! my mates lived in Bedford Place as did her mates Ros & Bev, but she never road a bike!
It seems a lot of guys wanted to ride my sister, why ?

She was my Fathers pet as I was my mothers, perhaps that's why she hated and tormented me as long as I knew her, I had the last laugh she died intestate and 50 years later I received £350 grand, 'cheers Becky you wonderful human being you.


Dad knew for years I have been taking speed & purple hearts calling me daft, he said he use to proscribe them in their thousands to soldiers, he was no fool my Dad he taught me one hell of a lot, building, responsibility, humility and integrity, how to drive a car properly, be creative and passionate at whatever you do.
All my mates and girlfriends loved him and all their mothers loved 'mothering me.
Me and the gang would sometimes get him dressed up ( he had great clothes real class stuff ) and take him out with us.

After Max the white Alsation died, I thought I would get him a companion.
I found and purchased a Pyrenean Mountain Hound, He was big, shaggy and white and very powerful, and quite funny. I named him Dylan.
This white shaggy ball of fur once dragged me across a major road to savage an Alsation. After he once took a chunk out of my Dads hand I gave him away to a farm, it turned out he was a mental dog I should have known, as I only paid £5 for him from a kennel that trained guard dogs.
At this time I became a great friend to my old man who was 'losing it fast.
We used to sit around and talk about the war and stuff.
This lasted a few years until Geoff one of my gang then a hospital porter said “If the ******** don't admit him, he, Geoff is going to lose it big time, next day he was admitted into Linton Hospital and died three days later with the memory of my uncle saying to him “I will keep an eye on George William” Dad replied “You had better make that two eyes”
The call came Geoff answered just turned round and stated “Your Dads Dead”
end of subject he hated his Dad a real brutal ******* whereas we all loved George Feltham.

My sister ? I never saw her again after the time I threatened to break her arm with a lump of 2x2 her and her husbands head.
I later managed to have her excluded from the will and I had some great parties at 28 and sold it for £21 grand a fortune then.

My career as a thief sort of reinvented itself round about then more out of boredom added excitement rather than gain, as kids we used to steal lead off roofs and batteries out of cars to sell at 5/- bob a time lead was then worth £1/9 pence a pound.
We would steal old 'bangers (cars) either the day before or the evening of the car auction taking cushions with us to be able to look over the dashboards and out of the windscreens, we often ran out of petrol joyriding not far from the market and ran off being chased by the 'old bill.

We purchased our first mobile vehicle for 5 shillings it was an old Vellocette scooter we had great fun with this until my mates father my (2nd mentor) George Moore crashed it into a wall ignoring our shouted advice to “put your foot on the flywheel”
My first car later was a Jaguar 2.8 !!!given in payment of a £60 pound debt I was 16 years old.
I had many cars later in life but that is for later.

Back to being a thief, I wanted to be the best, I imagined my-self as a jewel thief, I would attempt to climb anything earning the proud nickname of 'the cat by my piers.

I learnt a lot about antiques, and stealth during this period. It started at us having kids camps, places of fun usually large empty derelict houses there were many around Maidstone at that time awaiting to be purchased and all turned into housing estates.
One, Egypt House was a great place in Lower Fant road, it's where I was first interfered with by a girl Barbara Donaldson and her mates, bless them.
In the loft we discovered photographs of Adolf Hitler and an old Bedouin long rifle!!
which after learning to fire we donated to The Maidstone Museum which is probably still there to this day.

Another camp was a empty house we entered to find the owners 2 old ladies had obviously died intestate as the whole place was as they had left it but just covered in dust. All the girl's dressing up in their clothes and the boys stealing the wall trophies of animals heads spears, clubs and shields.
My days of robbing large country houses had just begun.
As kids we would roam far and wide on our bikes causing mayhem we joined the scouts 2nd Westbridge the scoutmaster was imprisoned for fraud we told no-one and continued to run this victorian scout troupe dolling out badges and raiding other scout clubs practising our skills at 'spitting & knife throwing.

Later one day after Becky stole one my home-made fish cakes hiding herself in the outside loo and me kicking down the door removing said fish cake and rubbing it into her freshly and still wet hair. She went red, grabbed a kitchen knife and proceeded to expertly hurl it through my ever diminishing arm, don't teach one's sister the art of knife throwing.

I later found out that my first record according to the police was 'allegedly smoking Marijuana around the back of the local library as a 14 year old.
Later in life they raided my flat in Bedford Place with the hope of finding a horde of misappropriated antique silver but with prior knowledge I had dug a hole and buried it in the allotments at the rear, I always wondered what the surprised allotment dweller made of it when digging up his potatoes.

I'm never been proud of being a thief nor have I been ashamed, I was proud of my abilities as a thief.
I never robbed from poor people 'what's the point ? and many of my robberies I read in the papers later had been well over claimed by the owners to gain a far larger insurance claim.

One night on my nightly walks I notice another burglar and unaware of me I proceeded to follow him, later frightening the life out of him as he proceeded to carry a huge colour TV down an alleyway.
Tony Clues, a Liverpudlian ex Royal College of Art drop out who was furnishing his newly acquired terraced cottage.
Tony's problem was his noisy breathing as he sported a huge broken nose and wore a full length back leather coat and looked quite intimidating.
We became sometime burgling confederates.
Late one night he introduced me to a large detached house No 53 London Road which had no known information in Kelly's Directory then the burglars handbook.
Consequently this house did not exist, the front drive's 5 bar gate had barbed wire wound around it and the drive-way covered in useless broken junk and furniture.
He stated “your going to love this, be careful!

We entered the garden from the rear which was huge and had seen better days, I was entering a paranoid persons idea of how to put 'the fear of christ into burglars, the whole place was covered in trip wires, eye level shards of glass, deliberate wonky paving stones, black overalls fluttering on clothes lines and poly-heads in flowerbeds stabbed with large knives.
This place intrigued me immensely and more to the point the mentality behind this obstacle course.

We had a moonlight smoke in the garden whist Tony whispered to me his known history of this house, we both assumed it was an old lady and upon approaching a broken ground floor window observed through it, a Victorian china doll with a claw hammer still imbedded in it's head, 'quite surreal to say the least.

The rear porch was full of old newspapers piled high on both sides leading to a solid old oak door, to the left a canteen of silver cutlery which Tony proceed to remove later informing he didn't want to disappoint it's previous owner's paranoia and gift.
We never broke into this house but often sat in the garden at night sharing a joint.

Tony I heard later in life tried to murder his wife and committed suicide, he also once told me he had met Dylan in a pub in Liverpool which knowing Tony was true.

…............

Famous People and my attraction to them: I believe it started at a young age by firstly meeting the comedian Norman Wisdom, later the conjurer David Nixon (asking him if he could make my sister disappear ? ) My mother used to have a weekly gatherings of her 'arty friends at The Popes residence who were sculptor tutors and lived in part of Oakwood House in the grounds of the Maidstone College of Art, I remember one spanish guitar player friend called Michael Burke off Tomorrows World television programme, I think they all smoked dope but I was to young to know anyway I was off swimming in the college pool.
Eric Hosking one of my Uncles I was informed was a ornithologist photographer Eric was funny because he had over one eye an oval plaster which he informed me was due to an owl plucking it out.

I have always respected famous people for their dedication and struggle to their chosen art, and are far more interesting than the majority of non triers ! celebrities I have found are two a penny and not worth wasting ones' time on.

More of the famous later for they became part of my life.

Thursday 12th February.

My first visits to London were with my mother who took me to Sadlers Wells Theatre to see different Gilbert & Sullivan Operas and all the Museums ect.
My Fathers mother lived in Gatton Road Tooting and his sister my Aunt Jill lived at 15 Lancelot Place Knightsbridge right opposite Harrods, a shop I loved to play in and loved being sent over the road to buy packets of gardening sand or some such thing which I always had to tell them to 'charge it'.
Her husband Uncle Rodney de Mussenden-Leathes was the then managing director and as such I would play in the shop on a Sunday none of the staff interfering with the kid playing in the toy department and stealing the odd sweet or two or three or four.
My aunt who was very much her own woman held a pilots licence and was very regal. Insisting I stopped trying to 'talk like a east end cockney'
Their childhood was spent in World's End Chelsea.
She invested in the stock market picking her husbands friends minds for investment tips.
15 Lancelot Place now has an extra floor and is probably inhabited by Saudi Arabians or somebody as equally rich, the front gates still observable today were the old lift gates from the shop, my cousin John was an assistant manager at Harrods learning as he put 'how tills work.

Long after my visits to London with Mum, With my ill-gotten gains I would then take the gang on a day out on the train to the West End, once we managed to gain entrance to the premier of It's a Mad Mad World, meeting Bruce Forsyth and him showing us the theatre's guest book, we were impressed. I was then 13 years old.

1967 and my everlasting love for London.

I ran away to London like all good kids in late 66. It's love has never left my heart first moving in with my cousin John Rodney in his spacious trendy apartment in Southampton Row, John had 2 current girl-friends on the go, Mary of Peter Paul & Mary and Celia Hearn Mr Pastries daughter, they were both mad for him, then off to living in a house with 2 ex Ramsgate Catering college graduates and 3 Polish hotel staff and two air hostesses in Deveraux Rd off the Northcote Road Wandsworth.
We had great parties us 'chefs suppling fillet steak sides of smoked salmon curtesy of the Savoy the girls supplying hotel snacks and as many miniature in flight bottles of booze they could pilfer.


I was then an apprentice patisserie at The Stafford Hotel St James under the tutelage of one Raymond Andreazza my (3rd Mentor) and the ex head chef of The Talk of the Town.
This unique hotel was purchased by Sir Richard Costain to cater for his international clientele no expense was spared every chef was an ex-head chef.......
I soon bored of that and invigilated a position as a commie waiter looking after my station of four tables.
The whole restaurant staff were the weirdest bunch of international people ever placed in a single room with an incredible bunch of clientele.
The restaurant manger was writing his autobiography every member of staff a gambler the wine waiter a midget from Lichtenstein would lean on a table consisting of Scobie Bresley, Nat Cohen, Lester Piggot and Ryan Price asking and getting racing tips.

I used to wait on Sean Connery, Diana Cilento, Emma Peal, John Stead, Hayley Mills would come downstairs from an afternoons entertainment with the film producer John Boulting.

My favourite patron was David Kossoff who's son Paul (the rock guitarist) had died later, a lovely man that sat alone and read the bible ? The fashion there was to call one’s waiter by their christian name, which we all thoroughly enjoyed believe you me when James Bond or John Steed call you by name you jump to it PDQ.
I used to be 'hired out to attend to old Lady Rothschild when she had gatherings in her apartment opposite, I once tripped spilling a tray of red wine glasses on her white carpet in a totally white room overlooking St James's Park.

I loved everything I did we cooked, took drugs, went to parties and led the London Social life to the full.
1967 was also the year of The Pill, 'sweeping away sexual repressions on a tidal-wave of oestrogen.
It's was called the Summer of Love for many reasons.
I had military dress jackets, kaftans, all bought from great clothes shops and ex army shops.
My hair was done free at Vidal Sassoon training school off Bond Street.
A few years later I was the model for Mick Carpenter who won The European Mens Hairdressing Champion, I was also at the time dating one of the judges nieces.
Don Cousins.

One mad liaison in the West End with a niece of Paul Raymond's (the porn king) of Soho she stated “If you stub a fag out on one of my tattoos (she had a few) you can **** me. I turned down her kind offer.

Around town one would bump into all the faces, one morning late for a shift at The Stafford tearing down Charing Cross Road not looking sent a lady flying out side the Talk of the Town, I as always the gentleman helped her up was profusely sorry, telling her I was late for work and was she ok ? She smiled said kindly 'no harm done, run on”
Her eyes gave her away I was gobsmacked I had just knocked Dusty Springfield off her feet. My late excuse wasn't believed, they never were.
Another late run to work, I ran into Cliff Richard's exiting a 'moody telephone box in Blue Yard, I had run into another film set.
We would often would sneak back early morning and crash in some part of the hotel.

I was then a member of the Alphabet Club in Gerrard street, now a Chinese gambling den, this was a mad place, full of great eclectic nutters, great music, one night chatting up a bird, the owner walked passed and pull of his/her wig, I nearly threw up realising how close I had come already in my mind. “Bitch she shouted sticking hairpins she put in her mouth, Michael later explained how to tell by the adam's apple and overplay of the hands. How ignorant was I then ?

One of our French waiters once took me to a door down a passage off Wardour Street he rapped on it, a metal slide opened, Jean said 'les crâne de piaf” the door opened into an unique open kitchen, 8 tables and a bar, it was a crazy place with really quite posh people dining, a french guy strumming a guitar and the owner also French sitting at the bar. We had moules marinière and wine on the house from the owner, quite a character, one night he just threw everybody out eaten or not except us Jean, I believe was one of his nephews.
Dashed if I can think of his name.

In the afternoons most of the chefs would hang out at the Café de Paris in Leicester Sq, dancing with the pro's and drinking, my mentor Raymond ( who in Mussolini's time had been a fascist Chief Inspector) took me there once it was who's who of London’s' finest Chefs. But was not my scene. Nobody in the business goes home they all wile the time away in the west end waiting for their 2nd shift.
It's a hard life in catering I had to find an alternative.

I returned home to Kent to look after my by now ailing father vowing to return soon to my London.

All my old mates were very mod 3 piece suits three-ply tonic mohair, I had a Vespa in London but this was different, loads of amphetamines birds and music oh! and scooters.
Margate Brighton Clacton gatherings holidays en mass to Lloret de Mar and Rimini for hedonistic youthful fun and more drugs and nice Spanish cheap shoes, Italian make in a day shirts.
We would have membership cards for all the best clubs Tofts Folkestone, The Penthouse Bromley, Roaring Twenties Carnaby St, The Twisted Wheel Madcaster.
Our own club was The 'G' Ranch in Maidstone owned by Emilo Tenerini who once asked me to tour manage a new band called The Love Affair I turned him down, next week they hit the charts with Everlasting Love, but their red, blue back and green leathers just didn't do it for me.
We were after all a class crew.
We had a van which was used by a band during the week The Web Foundation at weekends we took it everywhere suits on racks and informal wear on the seafronts, sta prest trousers, ben sherman shirts, bomber jackets and loafers or dock martins dependent on our opposition.

One night in Margate a Persian ? tripped up one of our quieter lads in a downs stairs coffee shop below a bowling alley, he 'nutted the guy then about 60 or more of them came tearing down from the bowling alley above, and only 10 of us, all hell broke loose finally the local police rounded us up and drove us to the out-skirts of Margate and told us in no uncertain terms to “**** ***'. They always knew where you originated from because of our club-cards.
We gave a good account of ourselves that night but a few were severely beaten ,
I just happen to have my 'knuckle duster in my pocket which luckily that time saved me from a beating.
Kid's eh?
…..............
It was probably about this time I started to think upon religion and spirituality LSD Marijuana ext caused me to think, I think. I was reading all the correct literature of the day 'talking rabbits, herman Hess, piercing one's third eye with a twig, practicing astral travelling and ******** my long term best mates sister. Bev.
I had sold the house gone to Paris bought a racing car an Alpine Renault A110 (now worth 45k) returned and bought a semi in Spot Lane Bearstead outside Maidstone, half a mile from the legendary Otham 500 club I should be so lucky? I paid 6k for it altered it and sold it a couple of years later for 12k the Alpeen I sold to the editor of Auto Car, after I kept crashing it on Rallies.

Spot Lane Bearsted was a 3 bedroomed semi detached I converted the bathroom to a wet room and brought all the internal
and fixtures & fittings and furnishings from Paris from shops like Roche Bobois all la crosier cooking gear and built a great kitchen in all my homes the kitchen has been prominent.
********************************************************************************

"So it's only about 10 pages if you got this far thank you, I need advice, hints good & bad all advice accepted should I stop as it's bloody hard I could have added so much more, but what is interesting to me is probably crap to others, what do I need to add ?

'Having reread this it seems very sparse I could easily add another 20 pages what do you think anybody written their memoirs ? should I give up and go back to gardening ?


"The Salvation of Mankind lies in making everything the responsibility of All"
Sophocles.

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by Zooropa » Wed Mar 11, 2015 3:09 pm

Very interesting - and tells me also what a boring life ive had.

I think there is more incident on half a page in your story than ive had my entire life.

Keep it coming, us unemployed have time on our hands don't you know!

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by Brian Yare » Wed Mar 11, 2015 7:34 pm

No electricity today? First day this week that I haven,t seen a cut, although the water was off in Qurna.

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by Jayway » Wed Mar 11, 2015 8:36 pm

Yes Who, in some places it is a bit sparse, more interesting details please and put the pages in order. Very funny, well done .. write some more -- :up

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by BENNU » Wed Mar 11, 2015 8:56 pm

:hug:

George, do you realise how well told this is? Continue the way you do, you can always go back to edit and fill in more, building up to things you chose to include later. Do not think too much, just imagine that you are sitting comfortably in the winged armchair at the fireplace in your library with a cognac, placing in front of you whomever deserves to be told the stories of what made you who you are. It is wonderful.

:dog:

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by LovelyLadyLux » Wed Mar 11, 2015 9:44 pm

Well done Who2. IMO you've roughed out the first 4 or so draft chapters and your timeline seems straightforward - A to Z (but remember in writing sometimes moving back and forth in time creates interest too)

Planning is a must. Know where you want to start and where you want to stop with an idea of what will come in the middle. Set yourself out chapter cards and jot on each what you want to cover in that chapter. This helps you create a 'pace' to your story. Create cards for each of the characters you want to incorporate into your autobiography and jot down true applicable traits and incidents between you and them you want to cover. This way you stay true to their character as you write and as you're writing ask yourself "why" and write the answer. Helps you to elaborate and describe. Easy peasy!

Creating a setting really quite necessary and you're doing well at it but IMO lots more descriptors applicable to you, your family, your city, your country, the time in which you lived would broaden the scope and add interest to the reader and facilitate the reader identifying with you.

You have a viewpoint you are writing from - yours - so make sure to keep this. You can't jump around changing who is doing the 'talking' so to speak. Create your character and describe him fully as he matures through the years and don't forget to formulate your plot as you go.

Remember the 3 "C"s of writing - character/contrast/conflict. Character - make sure you're believable and elaborate fully on obscure traits. Contrast (i.e. love/hate, light/dark, leisurely reflective reading/fast past action which serves to create and keep interest as you move the story along). Lastly all stories have an element of conflict - boy against the head master/father figure or the ever appropriate - good vs evil.

You need to incorporate these 3 elements into your writing otherwise what you produce might seem uni-dimensional. Think Shakespeare and how he interwove character with subtleties with plot with contrast.

You definitely have a good start! Looking forward to draft #2.

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by Glyphdoctor » Thu Mar 12, 2015 7:48 am

If you don't want to use index cards, there's also some software that can help you do the same thing:
http://storybook.en.softonic.com/

I tried it out once briefly when I wanted to organize some information about people and events for something I was working on.

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Re: The Autobiography

Post by Who2 » Thu Mar 12, 2015 10:26 am

Thank you all for responses most useful, l will attempt to use all the advice given and thank you for your time in reading it, what bothers me is the fact I will probably be 'sick to death of rereading it countless times. I will definitely fill out characters and incidents on this first part,
so I don't become too bored reading it… :cool:
"The Salvation of Mankind lies in making everything the responsibility of All"
Sophocles.

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