I squirmed when Mam asked me to run an errand for a packet of butter at the International Stores on Twydall Green. I was happy to get it ‘but not from there.’
Mam was surprised and concerned. She couldn’t understand why I steadfastly refused to go to a shop where I’d worked for a year. ‘Why not? They always ask me how you are when I go in, always.’
I couldn’t tell Mam that as good as the management and staff were, and as kind as they’d been when I left, I couldn’t face the fuss. Just thinking about it embarrassed me, so I bought Mam’s butter elsewhere and never set foot in the International Stores again.
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Friday 3rd October. Dick Tydeman was expected to make his Gillingham debut at Torquay that weekend, according to the back page of the forty four copies of The Evening Post I delivered at teatime. The report carried a picture of young Dick too. He didn’t half look gormless.
Paul, Clive and Stan started up a football team. I jumped at the chance to join them. I wasn’t impressed with the team name they chose – AC Medway – but it didn't lessen my excitement.
'Where will we play?’
‘Langtons’
‘When?’
‘Sunday afternoons’
‘Against who?’
‘Dunno yet but it’s a proper league. We’ll find out soon. We’ll play in all white. Everyone’s got white shorts and a lot of us have white shirts and socks. We’re having a practice this weekend. You can be centre half because you’re a lanky git like Jack Charlton.’
The nucleus of the side came from 4A2. With Phil Jones amongst those already committed, I couldn’t wait to get started. Come the weekend Paul and I were nice and early when we set off for the Langtons, perhaps a little too early for Phil Jones. When we called at his house at the top of Featherby Road, as arranged, his mother answered the door.
‘Phillip? Oh yes I’ll go and get him for you. Shan’t be long, he’s still in his pyjees.’
Of one mind Paul and I looked at each other.
Pyjees? Bloody hell.
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