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88  AN EXILE OF THE MIND         TIDDLERS IN A JAM JAR                         89


































 Conkers was a very popular game.  The Wigston countryside was a welcome change from the city.


 At home our  ears were  auto-  There are not many empty spaces   twice  my weight  singled me out  following  day, as the  tender-arsed
 matically tuned  to the  radio for  in a child’s mind.  for bullying. He waited daily at the  karate kid victoriously  entered  the
 Journey Into Space and The Goon   At  school  small bottles  of milk   school  gate  to  pounce  with  bared  school grounds.
 Show. The Goon characters could  were doled out, curdled nauseous by   teeth. I  studied  Samurai  battle   Digging under sofa cushions we
 easily have been mistaken for aliens  their proximity to hot radiators and   skills from books in the library and  found coins for the fourpenny flicks
 from the Journey into Space series.  reluctantly consumed as food-scarce   practiced  martial arts in the  dojo  at Flea Alley on Saturday afternoons
 They would change radio forever.   rationing dragged on. Hungry boys   of our yard with my battle-scarred  to  watch  Flash  Gordon  and  The
 When I was eight  years  old  a  sat at long benches with a teacher at   brother. True to form the bully leapt  Adventures  of  Tarzan. We drank
 full-throated  voice burst from  the  the prow. A grim figurehead to guide   from behind the gates for the kill.   Tizer, and  Dandelion  and Burdock
 radio. I sat transfixed as I listened  his charges in the  sea of mashed   Incredulously  I watched  his  soft drinks from Codd’s soda bottles
 in spellbound  rapture  to  an aria  potatoes,  overcooked  vegies  and   blurred shape flip arse up as his nose  kept  fizzy  tight  with  glass  ball
 from  Pagliacci.  My  parents  were  fatty  meat.  Much  improved  when   ploughed  the asphalt. I was  given  stoppers.
 perplexed  by this  sound  they  had  rationing ended and I embraced my   ‘six of  the  best’  by the  headmaster   We played Postman’s Knock, a
 no ears for. And so my love of opera  teenage years.   and an extra one for knucklehead’s  cheeky form of ‘Spin the Bottle’; with
 was born. I devoured everything ever   At the  school I was reluctantly   broken nose. It was worth it to  the girl group hidden, the boy group
 composed in this wonderful genre.   attending,  a gobbin thug  of a boy   behold a Red Sea parting of boys the  spun the bottle. The lucky winner
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