In the early seventies I was living in an area of
Stevenage called Marymead where my mother was the warden at a block of
sheltered accommodation flats for the elderly.
I attended Shephallbury School nearby which I left
in the May and I started my first job later that same month.
My job was working as a trainee groundman with the
Hertfordshire County Council grounds maintenance team and the depot was in the
north of Stevenage old town paying the grand sum of £10.99 per week before
stoppages.
Although the depot was some distance from where I
lived it was never an issue as there was a very good bus service.
In the November of that same year my family moved
house from Marymead on one side of town to the Hyde on the other, this point
will become more significant later in the tale.
The house move didn’t affect my getting to and from
work as Stevenage corporation as it was then known operated flat fare buses
operating on circular routes so I still got the same bus but from a different
stop and the price was the same this also will prove significant later on.
As I said this was my first year at work and I had
my first Christmas party to look forward to.
It was on the last day before we broke for the
Christmas holiday and we had a little party in the yard where a little
Christmas cheer was imbibed and a drink or two were consumed.
Now I was only sixteen and I had only had very
limited experience of alcohol and I got well and truly bladdered on whisky Mac,
cider and something unpronounceable from Yugoslavia.
One of the guys gave me a lift into the town Centre
and from there I caught my usual bus.
In my drunken state I managed to climb the stairs to
the top deck and the bus set off filled with heavily laden Christmas shoppers
and a drunken trainee groundsman.
I must have drifted off on the journey and I
suddenly came to and looking out the window recognized a familiar site and I
got off the bus.
I headed off up the road in the direction of home
wishing all and sundries a merry Christmas as I went.
I entered through the main doors to the flats and
passed the Christmas tree in the foyer and headed straight for flat number one.
At the door I fumbled for my key and presented it to
the lock, it wouldn’t fit.
I peered closely at it and it was definitely my door
key so I tried to put it in the lock again, still it wouldn’t fit.
Suddenly the door opened, and a stranger looked out
at me “Can I help?” she asked.
“Ah my name is Paul, and I don’t live here, anymore
do I?”
The lady, who was the new warden, agreed with me
that I no longer lived there so I wished her a happy Christmas and made my way
back to the foyer were there was a public telephone with a large Perspex dome
over it.
My intention was to phone for a taxi but rummaging
in my pockets I discovered I had no money for the taxi or indeed to make a
phone call then as I tried to duck under the Perspex hood I tripped over my own
feet and fell into the Christmas tree which ended up on top of me.
The lady who now lived at no 1 heard the commotion
and came to investigate and to my surprise thought it very amusing to find a
drunken teenager wearing the Christmas tree.
The new warden phoned for a taxi for me and even
gave me the money for the fare.
That was real Christmas spirit and I have never
forgotten her kindness and tolerance and try to keep that same spirit in my own
heart at Christmas.
