Inside the Nag's Head there was always a warm welcome from George the landlord and his wife Sal, they were a middle, to old age couple but had a wonderful sense of humour and always had a welcome smile. The pub was right next to the auction yard at the time so trade was always good in the week, Ludlow, like many Shropshire towns was essentially a country market town and had a wonderfully diverse population as a result, something now sadly lost, along with the auction yard and the pub which is surprise surprise a bloody Tesco. It quite astonishes me that we have the new slogan "farmers mart" in our small towns nowadays, it was never heard of before the big supermarkets as county towns were all one bloody big "farmers mart" before they moved in and destroyed the very fabric of the surrounding communities and starved the Town centre shops of their life blood, big supermarkets run by money men have no feeling for local communities despite their protestations to the opposite, they are only interested in profit, the community will always come second, as, instead of the wealth of the town being spread around locally it is gorged on by one leaching plc company that feeds it's directors and shareholders, hardly the work of a caring company and I am afraid "farmers mart" is there as a complete result of the supermarkets strangling out their opposition.
Anyway, I digress, as you can probably tell i am not a big supermarket fan and i will not shed a tear at their falling profits, quite the opposite. By now, myself and Tater had been in the Nag's for a few hours when we decided to call it a day, after all i was off to a job interview the next day so i needed to get some sleep sorted, it was quicker for me to go straight back to nan's house but instead i followed Tater back to his house up the Corvedale as it seemed like a good idea at the time. When we got back to Taters house we had a couple of cans of lager and to be honest i was a bit tipsy, in fact hardly in the right condition to ride a motorcycle, but being 17 I was already immortal so i didn't let it worry me too much.
At about midnight i said my goodbyes to Tater and jumped on my bike, i was raring to go and felt really good about the job interview tomorrow and having also had a few sherbets even better. My guess is you have an idea as to what happened next, as i was riding back home across the back roads so as not to run into Pc Plod i actually ran into something else, a post box. I had a huge slide in a farmyard and hit a wall on the far side of the yard with a postbox sat in the wall, the bike sat on top of me and i just lay there for a few seconds until this searing pain started to register with what was left of the grey matter in my head, I kicked out at the bike and it stopped for a few seconds as i clambered to my feet, still pissed and still thinking this is all ok, no problem, pick the bike up and off we go, but it wasn't that simple. That pain in my right leg came back again and so i looked down, my brand new black Levi cords had been ripped from ankle to ankle revealing more than what "The 'Butler' would ever see and there was an awful lot of blood running down to my ankle which i knew was not there before, remember i was pissed.. so i pulled the remains of my cords over my knee and discovered this huge burn, which by now was introducing itself properly to that small amount of shaken and stirred grey matter I had left, despite the alcohol.
I stood there for a minute or two trying to appraise the damage, not only to me but also my means of transport, the bike. Although a little mis-shapen in almost all departments it did actually start, so i was halfway there. I jumped on the bike and my previously straight leg while standing up, turned into a bent leg when sat on the bike, but trust me it didn't feel good so it was immediately straightened again and off i set, not to Nan's but back to my mate Taters.
I remember very little about that ride home, needless to say it must have looked a trifle odd with my one leg straight out in front of me and no trousers on, i couldn't wear them as they were flapping in the breeze and hitting my burn which was by now causing me a little bit of discomfort it was fair to say.
I arrived at Taters place and tapped on the door until someone came down, it was Tater himself who opened the door, he squinted and looked at me, then looked at my lack of trousers and jacket covered in farm shit and laughed as if it was the last ever joke he would hear, not long after that laugh rang out around the quiet cul-de-sac his mum Barbara came down to see what the fuss was all about and took one look and burst into laughter as well, all this time i was stood outside in the rain with a leg that was telling me it wanted amputating and quick and stinking of farm shit while soaking wet and cold.
Eventually they stopped laughing and brought me inside to the kitchen where Barb grabbed some cream and a bandage for my leg. She dressed the wound and cleaned me up by which time i was pretty damn sober and pretty damn sore. I stayed the night at Taters and made my way home in the morning, i didn't go next door to my family as there would have been hell to pay if they had found out i had fallen off my bike.
Morning arrived and my leg was in agony, i was later to find out that as it was a severe burn i should have soaked it in cold water for a while but instead it was just dressed and covered up, something that I would live to regret for quite some time. I surveyed the damage to the bike which always looks worse in broad daylight and myself and Tater affected some repairs enough for me to get back to my Nan's. I jumped on the bike in a borrowed pair of jeans and headed off, not at all in the right frame of mind for a job interview but i could not miss it.
Arriving at Nan's i went into the kitchen and Grandad was sat almost asleep at the breakfast table with his pipe going, the warm Autumn sun that used to shine through the kitchen window at that time of year warming him up nicely as he dozed, he looked up as i walked in somewhat startled but his heavy eyelids closed once more almost immediately and he was soon away with the fairies. Not so Nan, who was cleaning upstairs so i went up and showed her my war wounds almost immediately from that previous night and she was horrified at the burn on my leg and immediately took me downstairs and put my leg under the cold tap, which was only 12 hours too late but better late than never i guess!, then she grabbed a packet of something out of the First Aid box, she tore open the packet and took out this brown coloured patch that looked like a miniature fishing net which she duly stuck over the affected area and to be honest it felt good. It was Penicillin Gauze. Now, for those of you, like me, not medically trained then it seemed a very good idea, keep it clean and stop dirt getting in the burn area as well as sooth the wound. You would think that wouldn't you?. Well, yes, but the trouble is with a gauze is that when you take it off at night it will be stuck to whatever you have attached it to and a deep burn on the inside of a very soft thigh is not the place for a gauze, so instead of the burn healing in a couple of weeks i had 2 months of agony until a Dr who was examining Nan one afternoon happened to spy the bandage while i was wearing shorts one morning and enquired about what i had done... after he had supplied the right dressing and ointment it cleared up within 2 weeks, proving Nan's don't have ALL the answers!.
Getting back to the immediate aftermath of my crash and explaining to Nan that i had hit a fox and it caused the crash and I was only doing 40mph etc none of which she believed for an instant as she knew damn well i only used 40mph as a means to get to 100mph, but i had to regain focus for my job interview at 10 am.
So, bandaged up with my time bomb of penicillin gauze on my leg i rode into Ludlow for my interview. Arriving in the farmyard the farmer was walking across the yard and looked somewhat puzzled at the shape of my bike, which, it was fair to say was a little on the strange side with the exhausts pointing in different directions and the handlebars looking like a cobra dancing out of a basket of smouldering Marijuana, i thought it best to answer his question before he asked it, "I hit a fox last night and it errr..made me fall off" was the excuse i offered, but it was all too obvious the farmer didn't believe me any more than Nan so not the most auspicious of starts to a job interview i must admit but at least i had managed to get there.
The interview went really well and in no time we were chatting away and i found myself hoping i would get the job, i duly left with a polite handshake and the farmer said he would let me know as soon as possible if i was the successful applicant and, true to his word, by the time i had arrived home he had rung at Nan's place and said i could start on the Tuesday if i wanted the job...perhaps at last things were going to start going right for a change, but as i have learnt in my life never expect an easy ride, it just makes you complacent...
To be continued.
Anyway, I digress, as you can probably tell i am not a big supermarket fan and i will not shed a tear at their falling profits, quite the opposite. By now, myself and Tater had been in the Nag's for a few hours when we decided to call it a day, after all i was off to a job interview the next day so i needed to get some sleep sorted, it was quicker for me to go straight back to nan's house but instead i followed Tater back to his house up the Corvedale as it seemed like a good idea at the time. When we got back to Taters house we had a couple of cans of lager and to be honest i was a bit tipsy, in fact hardly in the right condition to ride a motorcycle, but being 17 I was already immortal so i didn't let it worry me too much.
At about midnight i said my goodbyes to Tater and jumped on my bike, i was raring to go and felt really good about the job interview tomorrow and having also had a few sherbets even better. My guess is you have an idea as to what happened next, as i was riding back home across the back roads so as not to run into Pc Plod i actually ran into something else, a post box. I had a huge slide in a farmyard and hit a wall on the far side of the yard with a postbox sat in the wall, the bike sat on top of me and i just lay there for a few seconds until this searing pain started to register with what was left of the grey matter in my head, I kicked out at the bike and it stopped for a few seconds as i clambered to my feet, still pissed and still thinking this is all ok, no problem, pick the bike up and off we go, but it wasn't that simple. That pain in my right leg came back again and so i looked down, my brand new black Levi cords had been ripped from ankle to ankle revealing more than what "The 'Butler' would ever see and there was an awful lot of blood running down to my ankle which i knew was not there before, remember i was pissed.. so i pulled the remains of my cords over my knee and discovered this huge burn, which by now was introducing itself properly to that small amount of shaken and stirred grey matter I had left, despite the alcohol.
I stood there for a minute or two trying to appraise the damage, not only to me but also my means of transport, the bike. Although a little mis-shapen in almost all departments it did actually start, so i was halfway there. I jumped on the bike and my previously straight leg while standing up, turned into a bent leg when sat on the bike, but trust me it didn't feel good so it was immediately straightened again and off i set, not to Nan's but back to my mate Taters.
I remember very little about that ride home, needless to say it must have looked a trifle odd with my one leg straight out in front of me and no trousers on, i couldn't wear them as they were flapping in the breeze and hitting my burn which was by now causing me a little bit of discomfort it was fair to say.
I arrived at Taters place and tapped on the door until someone came down, it was Tater himself who opened the door, he squinted and looked at me, then looked at my lack of trousers and jacket covered in farm shit and laughed as if it was the last ever joke he would hear, not long after that laugh rang out around the quiet cul-de-sac his mum Barbara came down to see what the fuss was all about and took one look and burst into laughter as well, all this time i was stood outside in the rain with a leg that was telling me it wanted amputating and quick and stinking of farm shit while soaking wet and cold.
Eventually they stopped laughing and brought me inside to the kitchen where Barb grabbed some cream and a bandage for my leg. She dressed the wound and cleaned me up by which time i was pretty damn sober and pretty damn sore. I stayed the night at Taters and made my way home in the morning, i didn't go next door to my family as there would have been hell to pay if they had found out i had fallen off my bike.
Morning arrived and my leg was in agony, i was later to find out that as it was a severe burn i should have soaked it in cold water for a while but instead it was just dressed and covered up, something that I would live to regret for quite some time. I surveyed the damage to the bike which always looks worse in broad daylight and myself and Tater affected some repairs enough for me to get back to my Nan's. I jumped on the bike in a borrowed pair of jeans and headed off, not at all in the right frame of mind for a job interview but i could not miss it.
Arriving at Nan's i went into the kitchen and Grandad was sat almost asleep at the breakfast table with his pipe going, the warm Autumn sun that used to shine through the kitchen window at that time of year warming him up nicely as he dozed, he looked up as i walked in somewhat startled but his heavy eyelids closed once more almost immediately and he was soon away with the fairies. Not so Nan, who was cleaning upstairs so i went up and showed her my war wounds almost immediately from that previous night and she was horrified at the burn on my leg and immediately took me downstairs and put my leg under the cold tap, which was only 12 hours too late but better late than never i guess!, then she grabbed a packet of something out of the First Aid box, she tore open the packet and took out this brown coloured patch that looked like a miniature fishing net which she duly stuck over the affected area and to be honest it felt good. It was Penicillin Gauze. Now, for those of you, like me, not medically trained then it seemed a very good idea, keep it clean and stop dirt getting in the burn area as well as sooth the wound. You would think that wouldn't you?. Well, yes, but the trouble is with a gauze is that when you take it off at night it will be stuck to whatever you have attached it to and a deep burn on the inside of a very soft thigh is not the place for a gauze, so instead of the burn healing in a couple of weeks i had 2 months of agony until a Dr who was examining Nan one afternoon happened to spy the bandage while i was wearing shorts one morning and enquired about what i had done... after he had supplied the right dressing and ointment it cleared up within 2 weeks, proving Nan's don't have ALL the answers!.
Getting back to the immediate aftermath of my crash and explaining to Nan that i had hit a fox and it caused the crash and I was only doing 40mph etc none of which she believed for an instant as she knew damn well i only used 40mph as a means to get to 100mph, but i had to regain focus for my job interview at 10 am.
So, bandaged up with my time bomb of penicillin gauze on my leg i rode into Ludlow for my interview. Arriving in the farmyard the farmer was walking across the yard and looked somewhat puzzled at the shape of my bike, which, it was fair to say was a little on the strange side with the exhausts pointing in different directions and the handlebars looking like a cobra dancing out of a basket of smouldering Marijuana, i thought it best to answer his question before he asked it, "I hit a fox last night and it errr..made me fall off" was the excuse i offered, but it was all too obvious the farmer didn't believe me any more than Nan so not the most auspicious of starts to a job interview i must admit but at least i had managed to get there.
The interview went really well and in no time we were chatting away and i found myself hoping i would get the job, i duly left with a polite handshake and the farmer said he would let me know as soon as possible if i was the successful applicant and, true to his word, by the time i had arrived home he had rung at Nan's place and said i could start on the Tuesday if i wanted the job...perhaps at last things were going to start going right for a change, but as i have learnt in my life never expect an easy ride, it just makes you complacent...
To be continued.
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