118 Mature and Sensible

A serious discussion about career prospects with an Upbury mate continued after school. Over a cup of tea at his home near the top of Canterbury Street, he told me he planned to join the navy.

My mind was still on the future as I walked home to Twydall via the top road. From the day I read that Brian Kidd – the young Manchester United star – had cleaned Denis Law’s boots whilst serving his apprenticeship, I’d daydreamed of following in his footsteps. Then when I broke into the Manchester United first team, it would amuse people to read teen sensation Gerard Lynch used to clean Brian Kidd’s boots. But my wonderful dream had been crushed by reality and at fourteen, I had no idea what the future held.

A trip to the Trustee Savings Bank, opposite Gillingham train station, brought home how close I was getting to the adult world. The girl behind the counter had been in the year above me at Upbury, yet there she was, looking ever so grown up and professional as she attended to me, a mere schoolboy. Then, when the Navy came into the school and gave us a careers talk, followed closely the Army, it seemed life was getting serious.

Other kids, the girls in particular, seemed to have a focus, a direction, and were diligently working towards something. Some already knew they’d be staying on for a fifth year and taking exams. Others were looking ahead and making plans.

With no idea what I wanted to do, or where I was going, I asked my dad.

‘You’re leaving school at the first chance,’ said Dad. ‘I want you out earning a wage.’

A big stink in the local and national newspapers about a sex education film caught my eye. Helga, the most sexually explicit film ever to be seen on British screens had been granted an A certificate on the grounds that it was educational. And it was showing at the Classic (formerly the Odeon).

Wahay!

For someone who hadn’t the nerve to try sneaking into X films, as some of lads at school had done, this was a chance not to be missed. Brother Dave thought so too, though he wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to tell Dad before we set off. I talked him into it.

‘It’ll be alright, we’re old enough. Telling him will show we’re being mature and sensible about it.’

I should have listened to my brother. ‘Oh are you now?’ said Dad, with undisguised suspicion, when we told him where we were going.

Dad was standing in the hallway in his cap and coat, waiting to go for his nightly pint when my brother and I arrived home.

‘Well,’ said Dad. ‘Are you any wiser now… than you were before?’