Change is as Good as ........

Change is as good as........

Welding and stuff:

I'd actually earned five months leave, a few quid in the bank and a Pension. Pheeewww!

I was also top of the Council House list. You see, I was of the genaration that didn't consider buying a house, unlike the generation that was emerging as I left. So we got a nice three bedroom semi in the village of Walcott near Billinghay. I'd already got a Motor Bike as had No1 Son and after swanning around for all of the five months leave, thought, time to get a job.

Now, I already knew from my past days what life was like in "Civvy Street". There are no Flt/Sgt or Warrant Officer jobs out there. A problem which guys who had been in the Service since boys found tricky. A couple of old Warrants who retired about the same time as me had great difficulty in settling down, missing the Sgts Mess and all the social trappings of the Service whiich had been their lives. Understandable, but luckily Joycee and I had not made the Service our whole lives, Sort of civvies in disguise I suppose.

So, on the day after my last day of leave, I put my leather jacket and helmet on, jumped on the Honda 500T, rode into Sleaford, knocked on the Foremans Office door at "Raleighs" factory, a small subsidiary of the Nottingham firm and said 'Got a Job?'.

"What can you do?" asked George the foreman, nice chap, a bit older than me and dammit I can't remember his surname. Sorry George!."We need someone on the welding bench" said George, "I'll give it a try" said I. OK he said, so he took me on at flat rate, showed me the bench where every one was frantically welding bicycle lugs with the gas torch to reach their P.I. (production index) so many a day that is. Anything over is a bonus, and that was me with a job. A couple of old mates, Dave McMillan and 'Paddy' Lynch were there so I wasn't alone and that was that. Never did make my P.I. but once I could weld I was put on wheel rims which was not so frantic. Good old George.

Not a Flt.Sgts' job but then I was always a Corporal at heart.

Unfortunately after a year or so, the main factory in Nottingham went on strike. George and we lads refused to, so they closed us down.

I spent six weeks working in the office for a Plant Hire company. Couldn't stand the boss so jacked it. No dole, no job.

I think Joycee noticed a bit of a change during these times. A very civilised serviceman, transforming into an industrial twit, because I woke up one morning and decided I was going to be a welder.

After safely passing a maths test at the local employment exchange, like two and two are four, I was off on the old Honda 500T to Nottingham for an interview for entry into the Government Training Center (what again?) at Long Eaton to be trained as a Welder. I was going on fifty six at the time but the good old Honda 500T got me the course.

Spent eight months in digs at Long Eaton on the course and enjoyed every moment of it. Home every weekend of course. Even earned a commendation for good work and attitude. Never to old they say.

There was a lovely little company in Sleaford run by two youngish guys which hand made narrow boats. None of your Mig here mate, all stick. Took a welding test and got a job.

It was great until the Steel Strike of, 1979 was it?. Every one crying out for their money of course and with a boat on the stocks and no steel they folded. Very sad.

However, across the road, literally, was "Simba Engineering", a company making large and very large farm machinery. So on bike, across the road, saw the Boss Keith Burton and said "give us a job". Can you weld he asked, very well I said, took a test and got the job.

And I was with them until I retired at the age of sixty five in December 1987. They gave me a lovely Gimble clock which is still running today.

Folding Disc Harrow:

Thanks, Keith, Robert, Phillip and all the Guys for all you did. if you ever get to see this.

.

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Like, Retired

I'd actually earned five months leave, a few quid in the bank and a Pension. Pheeewww!

I was also top of the Council House list. You see, I was of the genaration that didn't consider buying a house, unlike the generation that was emerging as I left. So we got a nice three bedroom semi in the village of Walcott near Billinghay. I'd already got a Motor Bike as had No1 Son and after swanning around for all of the five months leave, thought, time to get a job.

Now, I already knew from my past days what life was like in "Civvy Street". There are no Flt/Sgt or Warrant Officer jobs out there. A problem which guys who had been in the Service since boys found tricky. A couple of old Warrants who retired about the same time as me had great difficulty in settling down, missing the Sgts Mess and all the social trappings of the Service whiich had been their lives. Understandable, but luckily Joycee and I had not made the Service our whole lives, Sort of civvies in disguise I suppose.

So, on the day after my last day of leave, I put my leather jacket and helmet on, jumped on the Honda 500T, rode into Sleaford, knocked on the Foremans Office door at "Raleighs" factory, a small subsidiary of the Nottingham firm and said 'Got a Job?'.

"What can you do?" asked George the foreman, nice chap, a bit older than me and dammit I can't remember his surname. Sorry George!."We need someone on the welding bench" said George, "I'll give it a try" said I. OK he said, so he took me on at flat rate, showed me the bench where every one was frantically welding bicycle lugs with the gas torch to reach their P.I. (production index) so many a day that is. Anything over is a bonus, and that was me with a job. A couple of old mates, Dave McMillan and 'Paddy' Lynch were there so I wasn't alone and that was that. Never did make my P.I. but once I could weld I was put on wheel rims which was not so frantic. Good old George.

Not a Flt.Sgts' job but then I was always a Corporal at heart.

Unfortunately after a year or so, the main factory in Nottingham went on strike. George and we lads refused to, so they closed us down.

I spent six weeks working in the office for a Plant Hire company. Couldn't stand the boss so jacked it. No dole, no job.

I think Joycee noticed a bit of a change during these times. A very civilised serviceman, transforming into an industrial twit, because I woke up one morning and decided I was going to be a welder.

After safely passing a maths test at the local employment exchange, like two and two are four, I was off on the old Honda 500T to Nottingham for an interview for entry into the Government Training Center (what again?) at Long Eaton to be trained as a Welder. I was going on fifty six at the time but the good old Honda 500T got me the course.

Spent eight months in digs at Long Eaton on the course and enjoyed every moment of it. Home every weekend of course. Even earned a commendation for good work and attitude. Never to old they say.

There was a lovely little company in Sleaford run by two youngish guys which hand made narrow boats. None of your Mig here mate, all stick. Took a welding test and got a job.

It was great until the Steel Strike of, 1979 was it?. Every one crying out for their money of course and with a boat on the stocks and no steel they folded. Very sad.

However, across the road, literally, was "Simba Engineering", a company making large and very large farm machinery. So on bike, across the road, saw the Boss Keith Burton and said "give us a job". Can you weld he asked, very well I said, took a test and got the job.

And I was with them until I retired at the age of sixty five in December 1987. They gave me a lovely Gimble clock which is still running today.

Folding Disc Harrow:

Thanks, Keith, Robert, Phillip and all the Guys for all you did. if you ever get to see this.

Back to top.

Like, Retired