Room For Improvement

I had a few aims in mind when beginning to write this book. The first was to record my life and thoughts so that even if it were not published, my descendants will be able see how I lived, as well as an insight into the way I think about things. Due to my interest in genealogy I wish that I knew how some of my ancestors lived. Therefore it made sense to me that it is possible a descendant of mine may also be interested in how people lived in the latter half of the twentieth century and the first half of the twenty first. The second is to show that even an ordinary person can have some extraordinary experiences. This is my way of doing an autobiography and combining it with a bit of my personally thought out comment on "the meaning of life" and very brief advice on how to remain unwealthy, or alternatively, to become wealthy if you desire to. You will hopefully find my story interesting, perhaps even amusing in parts, my take on the meaning of life a bit helpful and how to remain unwealthy, at least thought provoking. I say thought provoking because I see future generations having to take responsibility for producing their wealth during their working lives and paying for their own pensions in order to maintain a decent standard of living in retirement. Third and last, I want to make a bit of money by selling my story. The first reason is the most important to me and the other two come a distant and roughly equal second.

I was born at a time when middle class people went to the loo for a wii and fax were what were put before a Court in order to determine innocence or guilt. We did not have ipods or any other MP3 players come to that, CDs, DVD recorders, video tapes, video games, Playstations, colour (and in most households black and white) television, telephone answering machines, photocopiers, mobile phones, Bluetooth connectivity, electric typewriters let alone personal computers, the internet, automatic washing machines, bubble jet, inkjet or laser printers, tumble dryers, air conditioned cars, dishwashers, microwave ovens, satellite television or satellites, LEDs, space shuttles, digital or FM radio, central heating, cordless telephones, remote controls, dishwashers, LCDs, double glazing to nearly every house, credit or debit cards, digital cameras and other things taken for granted today. Entertainment was from the radio, record player or self inflicted. I can remember my Dad getting our first reel to reel tape deck, a Grundig if I recall correctly. Funnily enough many people were happy. We youngsters made most of our own entertainment, playing football by going to a piece of grass, laying down a couple pullovers as goal posts, choosing sides and getting on with the game. We had winners and losers but we knew that some of the winners at one game may well lose at a different one. Sometimes a winner would win at everything from sports to grades at school. That did not matter, we could still be friends. It seems to me that people are less able to accept that everybody can have different levels of achievement these days. Politically correct nonsense would have it that nobody should "lose." What a load of rubbish. If there are two people in a race there will be a winner and loser unless it is a dead heat. That is not to say loser is not successful because just taking part can be a challenge that a person has overcome. I do not have the patience to work on computers and I do not have the skills to be a brain surgeon. But, I can be happy that others want to do these jobs and let me get on with what I want to do.

Sgt Newton got us all outside Jeepland and lined us up. Those who have been in the Forces will recognise "tallest on the right, shortest on the left." Our tallest person was named Robarts. His nickname was Jase after Jason Robards the actor. Having got us all in height order, Joe told us that the next order would be "from the right number" and we had to count off from our right to left. In a loud voice he shouted "From the right numbaaaah!" "Seven!" There was a halt to the proceedings because the second bloke was expecting to have to shout two and was a bit nonplussed. Sgt Newton got very close to Jase and asked "Robarts, why did you say seven?" "It's my favourite number sergeant." This was the start of an illustrious if not rapidly advancing career. There were three terms to the year, roughly equating to school timetables. One would start off in 1 Div and be a trade trained soldier at the end of three years or 9 Div. Jase set a record by being on restriction of privileges for nearly two thirds of the first term where staff are comparatively lenient. He was also unfortunate in that he had an extremely heavy beard and probably should have shaved twice per day. Added to that, he had a disfigurement that became obvious when marching. One of his little pinkies would not curl up because the tendon had been cut. Consequently, when marching, Jase had a small but highly visible, to the RSM at least, extension to his arm.

I joined Lincolnshire Police on May 19th 1980. The whole of our region had initial training at RAF Dishforth in North Yorkshire. The course was ten weeks long and we had to return after eighteen months for a refresher so that we could update each other on our experiences. The Police service had a two year probationary period where they could get rid of a recruit as "not likely to make a good and efficient Constable." As a thirty year old, I had a car and was asked to give a lift to others going up there. I did not mind as it was not far out of my way to pick them up en route. It also gave me somebody to talk to while travelling up the A1. It was a good two and a half hour ride and I can not remember us ever stopping on the way.

The first day there, we were introduced to our instructors and each other. Sgt Pete Johnson, a Yorkshireman was our tutor. Pete was brilliant at breaking bits of law down into language that I could understand. He had what can best be described as a wicked sense of humour. I for one appreciated it. In our class room, Pete asked for a volunteer. Using my hard earned Army knowledge, my hand shot up. This Army knowledge was that the first person to volunteer gets a plum job, then the rest volunteer. They get the nastier jobs. Sgt Johnson said "What's your name?" "Wickenden Sergeant." "I've already got a job for you." It turned out that I was going to be the class Right Marker. This is a person who has experience of military drill and can help teach the rest of the class. "Where are you from?" "Lincolnshire Sergeant." "No, I mean originally?" "I was born and brought up in south west London." "I thought so, I hate southerners. Stand on your chair." I got up and stood on the chair as instructed. You now have to imagine Pete's quite broad Yorkshire accent and my southern one. "Say grass." "Grarse." "Say Cassle." "Carssle." "Say ass." "Normally Sergeant, I would say donkey, but for you, arse." "Get down you southern twat." I just knew that we were going to get along famously.

I was quite young in service when I got a radio message from the Spalding office man. "Go to Mrs Smith and tell her that her husband has died in a crash." I went to her next door neighbour and asked the lady there to go with me to support Mrs Smith. I delivered the message and walked away thinking I had done the best job possible. I was only a hundred yards away when I got another radio call "Go back and tell her it's not her husband, it's her son" How would YOU go about it?

The following year, I went back for a four week VIP Protection Course. Once again we were housed at Kensington House and attended the New York Bar for refreshment and entertainment. I forgot to mention that just over the road from the bar was an excellent fish and chip shop. It seemed that one got whale and chips for a pound. Truly amazing value. The course went without serious incidents and we learned how to apply protection tactics. The staff videoed our draw and shoot techniques so that they could give advice as to where any improvements may be made. I was very proud that they used me as an example of good draw and shoot practice. There was only one person faster than me, but, he did not get his jacket out of the way as effectively as I did. It was obvious that my action speeded up as I went through the motion of getting clothing out of the way, drawing, aiming and firing. One of the things we had to do was a Distraction Shoot to see how we reacted to noise, lighting and other interferences that might take our concentration away from the person we were bodyguarding. Tables and chairs were set up at about seven yards from the targets. Music was blaring and disco type lights, in this case spinning emergency vehicle lights, were flashing. We sat at the tables and waiters would come and place cutlery, take orders for drinks and food, then bring us glasses of water. While this was going on a target would turn and we had to react accordingly. One of the instructors let off a thunderflash (large military "banger" that can remove a hand if misused) under my chair so I asked for another glass of water. I do believe that this disconcerted the staff as I got another six thunderflashes under my chair by the end of the shoot. I presume there was nothing wrong with my concentration as I got 100%

As I write this on 8 April 2008, the only place you can buy Room for Improvement is here for the soft cover version and here for the hardback.

It should be about two months before the ISBN number is attached to the book and you will then be able to buy from Amazon, book shops etc.