So, here I am at the top of the stairs having a bust -up with Bobby. Harsh words have just been exchanged. I may have provoked him… did I say something to taunt him? Can’t remember. For starters he was not a fan of my appearance – scruffy with long straggly hair. I habitually sported strange clothes – jumble sale togs, a great coat from the Army & Navy store, with a bunch of albums tucked under my arm. Often carried a cheap electric guitar too. This instrument was deployed in a string of bands, all making a disturbing racket. He generally put up with stuff like this . He’d always simply say to me: I don’t like ya.

What a thing to say to an adopted kid!

Anyway, he had other fish to fry. He had more pressing matters on his mind…

Whatever he got up to when he was out debt collecting.

Dealing with Mary and her explosive temper.

Trying to make ends meet.

Gambling.

So, when I started going out with a girl who was older than me – Amanda – Bobby drew the line. Kicked off big time. Perhaps because I’d been born ” out of wedlock “, it rang alarm bells. This has got to stop etc

I am 15 – big, strong and stupid. Full of myself. He is no longer in his prime.

I guess he’d tolerated me – taken me to the football – paying on the turnstile – home games every other Saturday, left me outside the bookies on the way home, treated me fine. People spoke of the generation gap. Basically, those who’d been through the war and were indelibly marked by it. Then, those of us lucky enough to be born in the era of the nascent welfare state.

Brave new world.

Most grown ups were not so affectionate back then. Not in my family, anyway. They didn’t go around saying ” I love you “, that’s for sure. I never had a kiss or cuddle from either of my parents.

Bob and Mary didn’t express themselves demonstrably – except in anger.

Rage sometimes. Frankly, it frightened me.

Back to the incident. He stuck one on me.

What did I do?

I tumbled down the stairs and hit the deck.

Lying there by the front door – I assessed my condition – nothing to write home about – minimal damage to me. There might have been a bit of blood but I’d experienced worse out and about or at school. I was fine.

Except…this, apparently, was the last straw for Bob and Mary. I was told to get my stuff together. I was not going to continue living there any longer…