Page 43 - Once a copper 10 03 2020

As we entered the building, we took our rooms one by one. I entered mine
on the right of the corridor and Phil took his in the room opposite. I threw my
cases on the bed and hung up my uniform in the creaky antiquated
wardrobe. Adjacent to the sink was a small desk and a hard, wooden chair
that reminded me of school.

The iron bed had a mattress that had both seen better times. I did note how
smartly the bed was made, with a cotton sheet and a rough material
blanket. It was made with some precision I thought. I was to learn that even
our bed making skills would be honed and inspected on a regular basis. Even
the simple process of making our bed would be ‘to the book’ in a procedure
called ‘boxing your bed’.

As I closed the door and collapsed on my bed that first night away from
home in such unfamiliar and basic surroundings, I couldn’t help but say to
myself “What the hell have I done?”

This was home for the next ten weeks. My wife’s words came back to me
“You’ll be fine Steve, take whatever they throw at you, go and be a copper.”

I dozed off with those words ringing in my ears.

The Course

After a restless night in an uncomfortable unfamiliar bed, I woke before my
alarm at 6am. I got to the showers early and vowed I would do this every day
to avoid the rush. As cold as it was emerging from the dribble of a shower, I
considered myself fortunate to be here in April rather than those poor sods
who had been here in the more winter months. I was to learn a lot about the
art of appreciation here if I was to last the ten weeks. Back at my room, I
shaved, put on my uniform and made my way to the food hall for breakfast.

Greasy eggs and bacon were the order of the day which I devoured without
a thought for my poor heart. Teamed up with my classmates and new friends,
we made our way to the classroom block where we were introduced to our
class instructors Police Sergeants Malcolm Bowden and Michael Lee.
We were told the Ryton Rules, what we could and couldn’t do. The most
stressed rule was that male officers must keep away from Jean Law house,
the block where the policewomen resided whilst on the training course. The
policewomen were blessed with comfier, warmer more modern
accommodation, which was as much of a magnet as the occupants.

We were also warned about a mysterious place they called passion alley, a
pathway near to the men’s block where illicit liaisons had got the participants
threatened with expulsion. Drunkenness would not be tolerated, and
exemplary behaviour was always expected, particularly in the students’ bar. Page43
Any breaches of the Ryton Rules and you would find yourself in front of the