We did all sorts of things together. He was my best friend, the sort of mate that boys want and few have. We made our first steps into adulthood together. He told me about masturbation, we sneaked into the Regal to see our first X-rated horror film, we slept in a tent together at Boy Scouts summer camp, and we shared jokes and wild antics. We were never really bad, just mischievous. Looking back it all seems so innocent.
In those early years of the Sixties we joined the Boy Scouts, the 5th Hillingdon troop at All Saints Church on Long Lane. We were alike – he was only four months older than me, his family was working class like mine. We went to the same schools – Oak Farm Primary on Windsor Avenue and then both failed the eleven-plus and went on to Abbotsfield Secondary Modern at the end of Clifton Gardens.
It was in the Boy Scouts that we first bonded and became best friends. We would meet one night a week for the Boy Scouts. I think it was a Monday. On Sundays we had the dreaded church parade. Above is a picture of Mick in full uniform after church parade standing in front of a brick wall in the yard between the church and the hall where the troop meet. Notice this picture was taken from a low point to accentuate his height. In the Scouts he had the nickname Kipper, a term of endearment and a comment on his height or lack of it.
He always seemed to radiate good humor, a vitality and joy for life. He would often come around my house and he quickly made friends with my brother and the rest of my family. I know he was an only child and had a stepmother who he had difficulties with but he never complained about her. He lived on the other side of Long Lane from me. I rarely went around his house. I remember his father had a motorbike with side-car.
We shared our first summer camp with the Boy Scouts near High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, probably in 1963. While we were sleeping a storm came through so strong it blew down our tent in the rain and we had to shelter in a barn. It was a chaotic camp where the senior scouts left us feral boys to run riot as they and the Scoutmasters spent most of their time in the local pub. There were massive water fights, pranks, a lot of jostling and one-upmanship on who had the knife with the longest blade. There was the Ex-Lax incident that only Mick and I know about.
I recall Mick and I had an argument over something the details of which I do not remember. I lost my temper. I swung an axe at him, and he threw a knife at me that stuck in my foot. I still have the scar. I ended up at the hospital but Mick came as well. That seemed to cement our friendship. I think it was during that summer we did our first overnight hike together in the district around Windsor. As darkness fell we searched for somewhere to camp in a wealthy neighborhood of large detached houses. A kindly homeowner allowed us to sleep in a Wendy House at the bottom of the garden. Mick and I pledged that we would never reveal to our Scoutmaster that we slept in a Wendy House.The next year the Scouts went further afield to somewhere in Somerset, I think near Chard. We were both patrol leaders. We both had hats as the picture shows. Camping meant cooking on wood fires every day, sleeping in tents on the ground with just a groundsheet separating us from the grass. It was great fun.
We both went to Abbotsfield Secondary Modern and were in the same class in the first year, it was Gus Gurmin’s class. I think I sat next to him in many of the classes. He was better at sports than me and was good at football I think he played for the school, he was facile at controlling the ball at his feet. I was better at quizzes. Either Steven Sprocket or I would win the quiz.
We wore the check hipster trousers with a wide belt. Even now I feel embarrassed I ever wore those trousers. They looked ridiculous. We sneaked into the Regal Cinema on High Street Uxbridge to see the X-rated but absurd, Plague of the Zombies, the latest Hammer horror film of the day.
In those days of adolescence we were wild, had fun and enjoyed the chaos. Mick could be exuberant and funny, he always had a mischievous energy.
We both took what Abbotsfield had to offer and excelled. We were part of the first cohort at the school to go on to University. Mick to Loughborough and I to Nottingham.
Mick seemed to have an inner resolution and a patient strategy to his life.
At eighteen he had a maturity beyond his years certainly more than me. He knew what he wanted, he had decided early. And he went out and got it. The girlfriend, the bank manager’s daughter, he would marry; the career in engineering which I am sure required persistence and determination.
We visited each other at university but our lives diverged as I tried to find what I wanted out of life. Mick knew what he wanted and pursued it. The visits came less frequent and we lost touch when I moved to the United States.
Thirty years later Michael sought me out when he had retired from his successful career and tracked me down in San Francisco. Lesley and Michael came out to visit and a friendship was renewed. Now I am sad to hear he has passed on. I will keep those memories of my best friend Kipper for ever.
