men of steel

When I was a young lad my father used to take me to a local Hospice to visit an old chap by the name of “Joe C”. Joe was a nice bloke whom my dad had started out working with as an apprentice at a local steel mill.

Indeed, Joe not only showed my young father the ropes at work but in the pubs as well. I recall a tale about a cheeky Saturday afternoon drink after work. Both my dad & Joe were in a boozer enjoying a pint or 10 with all the other workers when the door burst open & in stormed Molly, Joe’s wife. The pub went silent, (more with fear than shock I suspect) Molly scoured the room. She eventually turned her glaring eyes onto a tiny Joe trying to desperately turn himself into a beer mat.

Across the room she marches & places a dried out roast beef dinner on the table before him. She then laid out the knife & fork.

“There’s your dinner” she growled, before storming off out the door. Everyone’s eyes following her. Privately thanking God that it wasn’t their wives who were so upset at them for being late home for tea. The pub emptied in seconds. Men began rushing to get their caps & scarves on as they fought to get through the door.

My dad looked to his side to see the colour just starting to return to Joe’s cheeks as he climbed back into his seat from under the table.

Joe began slowly to recover his self esteem. “She could have brought you one” he whispered to my dad, both trying not to chuckle (in case Molly heard, somehow).

It was later in Joe’s life that he fell victim to an unfortunate industrial accident. A steel cable fell & broke Joe’s back leaving him unable to walk. Thus Joe ended up bed bound in the Hospice.

Joe kept a couple of canaries in a cage in the day room at the end of his ward. I always used to head straight for them on our visits. There always seemed to be a couple of eggs at the bottom of the cage. I would look at the eggs fascinated as all young children are with such things.

“When are they going to hatch Joe”? I would ask.

“Twenty one days son, it takes twenty one days”.

It always seemed to be twenty one days. I wasn’t very good at maths but I knew enough that twenty one days must be a very long time.

It was at this moment the usual visiting time circus began. ‘Great!’ I thought as Naked Hairy Man got out of his bed, stripped off & began running up & down the ward, Showtime was always a welcome distraction from the smell of poo. Sometimes he would even pee on the floor. His behaviour always seemed to upset the other residents, leading to grunts & shouts from those that were able to grunt & shout. When enough of a commotion had been caused the nuns would quickly enter the ward & a game of “catch me if you can” would follow. Naked Hairy Man would usually jump from bed to bed around the ward until being wrestled to the ground by some very speedy & agile nun. The sight of a nun stood with her boot depressed across the throat of a deflated Naked Hairy Man always seemed to raise a cheer.

Joe being the grandfatherly type, wishing to protect my young child’s mind from such disgusting behaviour shouted:

“Yer fooking dirty bastard, get your pyjamas back on. Cant you see there’s a young lad here?”

“What’s a fooking dirty bastard, dad?” I enquired.

“Never you mind, son” he replied. He used to use this phrase quite a lot. ‘Never you mind’ seemed to be the answer to a lot of questions as did ‘Twenty one days’. Joe & my dad seemed to know the answers to a lot of hard questions.

Later that week in school, Mrs Faulkner barked,

“Peeler, what is 3 x 7”?

I was stumped. If only my dad or Joe had been there!

“Never you mind, miss”. I offered hopefully!

Surely that was the type of clever response that would suffice.

Once the violence had stopped & Mrs Faulkner had begun breathing normally again, (I thought she was going to pass out with rage at one point) I reasoned to myself that the answer I had chosen was wrong. Next time I resolved to use “Twenty one days” as my stock answer.

On one of our visits as we walked onto the ward we could hear the sound of an argument coming from Joe’s end of the room. As we approached he was shouting animatedly across to the large fellow in the opposite bed,

“Why don’t you come over here then & I’ll smarten you up”.

Concerned about Joe’s safety my dad rushed over,

“Joe, Joe what are you doing? You know you can’t walk He’s bigger & younger than you! He might get out of his bed, & stick one on your nose”.

“No, no it’s alright” Joe said with a glint in his eye.

“He can’t walk either”…

Naked Hairy Man (0) Well Organised Pack of Nuns (1)