Those were the days..

Anyone who knew Jack from those days were fortunate, if the whole world were like him and Georgie (Mason) , Peter and Tony Millard three people I mention because I see then still and leave my place in Chelsea and I’m surrounded by strangers, we are actually strangers in our own country. I truly believe that this latest tragedy (coronavirus) could not have happened when I was growing up here, when we could leave our back and front doors unlocked.

The problem was the old Mary Hopkins song “Those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end” and that’s true, what mess they’ve made of Chelsea. You walk in the Co-Op at the Worlds End and they look at you as if to say “What you doing in our country?” I recall, although I weren’t there a stranger walked into the Worlds End Cafe where all the chaps were sitting having a cup of tea and talking about the weekends football. It was said my brother John was up at the counter and a strange bloke walks in and pushed him out of the way. My uncle George asked what it was all about and before you knew it this fella was lying on the pavement having been through that big glass front window (now Johnny’s Fish Bar). You would not have seen a stranger in those days, whereas today you don’t see a local born. Anyhow, it’s been a long bad week with Jackie leaving us and that is why this virus is even more devastating we can’t go and show our respects, it’s like watching a horror movie – only it’s not one.

I always try to end on a happy note, ‘be positive’ each and everyday, is something I wrote in my friend Malcolm’s diary, so as I write I’ll get ready and try to find something to lift me up like those days it just happened. I Guess I’ll ask Alexa, for it seems she seems to have more idea than these faceless people – like those at the FA, UEFA, FIFA (people like Blatter) who have ruined all the good things in our early lives. The strangest thing for me is that of all of the great times the year I spent in hospital was incredible, looked after by some wonderful people, operated on by magical surgeons (fifty odd to date) and David Goodier who saved my legs and my life, and surrounded by a fantastic family and close friends, in the year I was there I never had one hospital meal, my uncle George brought my food and clean clothes up every day, I call it strange because after almost dying they were HAPPY DAYS and I strive to have some more fun (beginning this afternoon) once this viral fiasco has been beaten.

You know this virus we have been lied to by those ‘suits’ along the Embankment, those faceless people who are our Demons. If only Guy Faulkes had finished the job I think OUR country would still be OUR country.


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