Acid thrown…

Ok I know, so many will now think I’m harping on way too much? But it’s my life memoirs of actual events.

My first job was in 1980 (Bradford Hauliers Group) on the then new Youth Opportunities Scheme (YTS), it was a three month training exercise on mainly heavier goods vehicles. Met some nice folks including someone called Charlie Watson and I think we got on great, he called me ‘geezer’ ha. I think we did meet for a night out at the Bradford ice skating building? How did I get in!

I had to change this blog title as I remember someone throwing battery acid on me. Taking overalls off really quick and laughing as obviously it was really funny, it felt abit wrong. I rode my Ellis Briggs Favori bike home.

Upon arriving home I noticed my clothing, certainly jeans (as I cycled to work in jeans and boots), my clothing was falling to bits. I got home and my jeans (Falmers) were shredded, I did get a telling off from my parents as obviously it was all my fault.

My memory, I can not remember who did this or indeed why?

 

Terry Walker

You bastard twat shoved something into my right ear at ‘little’ Woodend, about 1970. That ear caused me some problems for a long time, yet you, you fucker,  still caused me problems through-out my school years. Mind you, you did invite me to your birthday parties, mainly to push me into Rose bushes, to take the piss, to try throwing me in the deep-end of the then new Shipley swimming pool – I had that fear of water as you knew.

You lived near bottom of Carr Lane, Shipley.

Enough typed…

Cunt.

Happy anniversary Jacob!

At 9:20 pm 6th November 10 years ago Jacob Briggs became a teenager, how time travels jeez.

23 today.

Mr David Wiley…

Come on down as you are next! You employed me for my fourth job, time 1981 – 1983 and over two years (I will do a list of my jobs, if I remember them all!). Mr Wiley, how you put up with me maybe I shall never know but I loved my time at Wiley’s Cycles and Toys on James street Bradford. At the time I would say I was certainly unemployable, I now know why.

I think I know how and why I got that job.

A main memory is of when I went to the store building over the road, I built a block of box’s near the door and waited, it was dark, the door opened and my name was called, at that instant I pushed all the boxes over you, why? I was hoping someone else would come over and join me but, I didn’t know it was you!

Stepping round the box’s I saw you on the floor searching for your spectacles ‘Mr Wiley’ fuck me I shit myself – it’s the boss. I ran to the shop, got my jacket and left straight away, unsure if I had cycled there that day? I rushed down to the “640” bus stop, it arrived, a best friend of my young years Adrian Crabtree was on the top deck, I sat next to him and burst into a laughter of tears, I couldn’t stop crying with hysterical funniness.

By the time we got off at the same stop I had managed to tell him what had happened, he couldn’t stop laughing with me. Next day, I went to work – again not sure if I was on my bike or not? I went after certainly not wanting to go, but I dare not tell my parents as to what had happened. I remember going into your office and ‘Mr Wiley I’m, ‘it’s ok Stuart, it’s fine’ thank you Mr Wiley’ and that was that.

You were brilliant but for the next bit, over those two years I got hold of and stole alot of cycling equipment from the shop, alot. I did end up with a great ‘best’ bike and a decent winter bike. Sorry.

Ann (Whyatt?) was also great, was her husband the Bradford City groundsman? Must admit, as well as your daughters I also fancied her, erm, anyway.

A huge thank you to you Sir, you were a great friendly employer. I did see you on the train in Ilkley a while ago but dithered to say hello so sat behind you and your wife.

All I could find is here Wileys Cycles and Toys.

 

No names mentioned 1.

For quite some time someone really pissed me off and at times was also a twat to me. Anyway, this can be kept really short. I actually feel guilt with this one…

I told his girlfriend that if she split with him then I will be her boyfriend, she split them both big time and I turned her down.

Next, erm, this particularity lad, I met his sister, things happened which contributed to her marriage problems and beyond.

Yes I was a cunt and pretty much did those two ‘events’ deliberately.

What goes around comes around happened to those involved including me.

Obviously it was not as simple as that, but it happened.

Let it be cleared Up

1982, probably May or June? A night out had happened with a few from the East Bradford Cycling Club in Bradford, we went for a curry, I think it was the Kashmir? Lets cut loads out…

It was noticed he had gone missing. I was the one who went to find out where he was as no one else either cared or seemed to be bothered, but I liked him and cared – as I always have for many folks, too much in many situations. I ventured outside and noticed some folks were around him against a wall. I rushed back in and told the others that he ‘is in a spot of bother’ but, I got a look, a very blank look from all and was advised to leave it.

Hmmm, I went back outside to witness those folks put something in his mouth before starting to kick him. Let me be clear, at this point I am very unsure what happened, I have no memory of it but the next memory I have is of him attacking me, by then the cyclist’ were outside and stopped that grapple. What do I say? I was told to leave it? I was from Windhill. At only 17 I’d never left anyone in trouble, on the contrary folks use to leave me in the shit, hang on, those in the curry ‘shop’ did leave me and even worse leave him in the shit.

You.

Tour de France 1982 and the issue was brought up, kind of upset me and again it was mentioned to drop it, you weren’t there, it still bothered me as many on that Bradford night out were there. On my 18th birthday in Italy I kicked and punched some of those who told me to leave you, that was at Como, proper shame as after that second holiday to visit the Tour de France and then onto Italy (first was in 1981), I decided to leave the East Bradford Cycling Club.

Later I joined the Royal Air Force, only for a short time. Upon leaving the RAF I re-joined the EBCC, saw you only once at a dinner (1991 or 92 or 93?) of which you blanked me and my ex wife, I was trying to be nice. It was the same dinner I opened a bottle of champagne and it hit (I cant remember the chaps name) but it hit an older fella on his forehead after bouncing off a ceiling or wall? On my right Dave Rayner was sitting next to me, boy was that an enjoyable funny night, a good night that you didn’t recognise I was trying to apologise to – although I had no need.

You see, so many cyclist’ seemed to go transparent at times of trouble…

All mentioned here are indeed facts.

Dave Mann wins (He also caused some problems with me but he now knows). Alan Stephenson there you are, from the right; Dave, Bernie, your younger brother (name?) you and I…

DM2

A shadow…

‘Fuck you arsehole’

Up you

Who melted?

As I touched her nose she started melting, she called out to be kissed.
The spike appeared, I cried as she returned into the sheet.
Grabbing the flatness she could see me.
Lifting me ever higher I thought I was going to slide over the edge.
Yet I must remember, under me she was yet still is.
Where to now? she needs to break the sheet and allow us to join.

Needing to wake up.

It’s not a mirror but a silhouette within the thin sheet.
Sliding I twisted my hands, I looked below, then she was above.
She positioned to kiss my nose.
My finger reached her lips, I was on that edge.
Grabbing with knuckles showing I tightly held on.
I could feel something pointing into the rear of my neck.

I must wake up.

Those lips still needed kissing.

Calling out she asked me to stay.
To please kiss her and not go away.
Holding my hand out for that sweet sheet.
The spike will happen, again when I’m weak.

Squeezing the sheet I woke.

PS, meeting I still would SER.

It’s all glass.

Waking down

Good grief.

Go to sleep trying not to think then it all goes bonkers which seems to result in a sleeping up, you know, it’s a dream but actually it really is a dream. So ‘we’ stay still smelling some breath on those toes, nope the legs are just restless so keep still, but you just can’t keep those legs still. Must keep still, then the breathing happens in the left ear. At this point moving around is whats needed but you can’t. Pointless trying now as shallow breathing through the nose just might beat it?

Waking thinking trying to work 53 years out but most is inside.

Dud looks my stinking fart.

Zzz…

It’s still there though.

Facebook is shite

Over the years Facebook has changed. Now it seems full of folks harping on about their brilliant holidays, brilliant life, brilliant this and brilliant that. But when an opinion is posted by some of us ‘twats’ about facts then many of those brilliant ‘folks’ can get very personal and insulting. It seems they really do not like the facts that actually happen outside of their brilliant bubble.

I still tinker with it but mainly bounced off Twitter, about some of my depressive shite and also my Sarcoidosis page. I have reasons to keep in touch with certain folks and if I had the bollocks to give up my Sarcoid page I would, otherwise outside of messaging its fucking shite…

Brilliant