Page 40 - Once a copper 10 03 2020

there were a couple of drop-outs from the induction class who would not
make it to Ryton. The police life is not for everyone and for those who opted
out early, it was better for them to realise sooner than later. Me? I was up for
everything it would throw at me.

Ryton-On-Dunsmore Police Training College

The weekend before starting at Ryton passed quickly, my head filled with
hopes and dreams of the life that lay ahead and of all the changes and
effects it would have on my comfy home life. On one of the nights, my wife,
her brother and I enjoyed a few beers and a slap-up dinner, with both
teasing me with ‘the condemned man ate a hearty meal’. I found myself
wondering what the food would be like.

Sunday afternoon was spent packing my bags and polishing my boots. The
former police woman from Lewis’s and her copper husband had shown me
how to do it. Take a tin of black cherry blossom boot polish, use a lighter to
set it alight until the polish melted to liquid. Take a damp soft cloth, dab it in
the polish, apply it to the toe cap of the boot and let it dry for a few minutes.
Then, using small circular movements, polish and polish and polish until the
toe cap starts to shine. The process was known as ‘bulling your boots’ and it
was to fill many of my hours in the weeks ahead.

Sunday evening came all too soon for me. Filled with doubt and anxiety, I
thought I was hiding it well, but my wife knew me better than I thought. As
she hugged me before I set off, she looked up at me and said, “You’ll be fine
Steve, take whatever they throw at you, go and be a copper.” I kissed her
goodbye, part of me wishing I could put it off for another week.

My brother-in-law kindly offered to drive me to Ryton every Sunday evening
and to collect me each Friday night. That first journey passed almost in
silence, my head deep in thought. I had been told about Ryton, but even the
most detailed preparation could not have prepared me for what I was about
to experience.
We turned into the entrance and stopped at the security barrier so I could
show my warrant card to the duty officer in the kiosk. He could drop me off
but was instructed that he must leave immediately, and I would have to walk
over to the reception block alone.

He parked up, I got out, shook his hand and thanked him for the lift. “See you
Friday mate” he said as he drove off.

I turned and gained my first impressions of the place. I could see there were a
couple of modern buildings, but my attention was drawn to what looked like
World War II prisoner of war camp buildings dotted around the place. My
mind drifted to the movie with Steve McQueen and Richard Attenborough Page40