A football match was arranged with the locals, it was billed as England against Morocco, the venue was the beach and yes a crowd appeared to watch the game. We were well stuffed by a team of young gazelles in bare feet. It was a very friendly game, in which the opposition goal keeper put on a blindfold, he was so confident we would not score! He was right.
Our journey back to the majestic Port of Algiers took us through many historical old towns and cities. I ate food that had no equivalent name or even looked like anything I had come across before. The food was wonderful with many spices and tastes, there was always tea on offer but not exactly PG tips but palatable anyway and refreshing even after a sweaty afternoon in the Kasbah.
We eventually left Morocco having greased the palms of the armed customs men yet again to ease our passage. We arrived back in Gibraltar where we stayed for approximately another month before leaving for Portsmouth.
There were only a few other recollections from my time on Glamorgan that really stick out, the night that my friend Taff Savage and I had spent in cells after getting drunk on Gin and Camparri, getting drunk was quite normal, cells was new and vomiting all over myself and having to scrub the cell out with disinfectant in just my underpants was soul searching. A ships visit to Newcastle were we marched through the city and were received well by the local ladies, It sure was a highlight, again we got drunk and ended up scrapping with some local lads over who a seat belonged to in a nightclub, It turned out not to be my seat but not before the table was upended and several Geordies were thrown out, we were courteously allowed to stay as it was deemed safer for us by the police. On Glamorgan I learnt how to be a DJ but I was given a crap spot and was asked to leave the job after playing the theme tune to shaft four times in half an hour, well I did like it!
There was not to many bad memories however I can remember spending a Christmas eve on the upper deck trying to spot survivors of our ships own helicopter that had crashed, unfortunately there were none.
I left Glamorgan after what was only a short draft for a short spell on HMS Defiance the Submarine support Ship in Plymouth, Defiance although still in water had been tied up alongside for years and for all purposes was just like a shore establishment.
I was billeted in HMS Drake at Devonport, the camp was enormous and has a vary long history.
Plymouth was in many ways the same as Portsmouth but as a run ashore provided far better pubs and clubs, now I was of age and no longer tied down by a station card I could stay out at night and join all the other Tom cats on the evening prowl down the strip.
As a trainee at Raleigh I had to be in camp early but now my new found freedom allowed me to enjoy life, most clubs didn't liven up until after ten O’clock.
On one of my first nights out I was up for dancing and I decided to wear my seventies trendy threads, a pair of white bags and tight black T-shirt, the night started well and I was up dancing to all my favourite songs, many young ladies frequented this club, well maybe not so young, getting a dance was pretty much guaranteed.
The disco was in full swing when the lights changed to a fast ultraviolet flash just perfect for epileptics, I thought it was great especially in my white trouser they stuck out like a pork pie at a Jewish wedding. People stopped and laughed and clapped I thought they were applauding my dancing it must have looked like a pair of trousers dancing on there own!
No such luck, I was wearing dark coloured pants and they were showing through my trousers, it was a while before someone told me. I have never worn white trousers since and now have an aversion to flashing ultraviolet lights.
One day I was asked by my divisional officer to volunteer for extra duties, I was surprised at his request but not having a lot on and miles from home I said yes. The following day he told me to make sure I had my passport, I was going to Hong Kong, I was delighted, who said never volunteer for anything!
Within a week I flew out of RAF Brize-Norton, the task in hand was to fix HMS Penelope she had been through a typhoon and was requiring some serious engineering problems to be fixed.
Hong Kong was a different world it was very hot and working hours were four in the morning until eight then four in the afternoon and eight at night, this allowed for the maximum time to enjoy the Eastern delights.
Well the scene was set, there I was being tattooed in a small one bed roomed house in the middle of Wanchie district, the front room was full of what was obviously the whole family, they were watching as I was going through my painful ordeal, being fed bottles of beer buy the artists wife, while children cried and played all around me.
The ordeal lasted for what seemed hours, the pain reduced as the more beer I drunk, eventually I vomited all over the floor just missing said children, the tattoo miraculously was finished very quickly and I was ushered out.
As a trainee at Raleigh I had to be in camp early but now my new found freedom allowed me to enjoy life, most clubs didn't liven up until after ten O’clock.
On one of my first nights out I was up for dancing and I decided to wear my seventies trendy threads, a pair of white bags and tight black T-shirt, the night started well and I was up dancing to all my favourite songs, many young ladies frequented this club, well maybe not so young, getting a dance was pretty much guaranteed.
The disco was in full swing when the lights changed to a fast ultraviolet flash just perfect for epileptics, I thought it was great especially in my white trouser they stuck out like a pork pie at a Jewish wedding. People stopped and laughed and clapped I thought they were applauding my dancing it must have looked like a pair of trousers dancing on there own!
No such luck, I was wearing dark coloured pants and they were showing through my trousers, it was a while before someone told me. I have never worn white trousers since and now have an aversion to flashing ultraviolet lights.
One day I was asked by my divisional officer to volunteer for extra duties, I was surprised at his request but not having a lot on and miles from home I said yes. The following day he told me to make sure I had my passport, I was going to Hong Kong, I was delighted, who said never volunteer for anything!
Within a week I flew out of RAF Brize-Norton, the task in hand was to fix HMS Penelope she had been through a typhoon and was requiring some serious engineering problems to be fixed.
Hong Kong was a different world it was very hot and working hours were four in the morning until eight then four in the afternoon and eight at night, this allowed for the maximum time to enjoy the Eastern delights.
On the first day I was measured up by a Chinese tailor for a new coat the second day I had my first fitting and on the third I paid for the final product. I was very happy with my full length Gazelle skin leather coat, fully lined with Dragons on the inside of the cuffs!
Hong Kong was a bustling dynamic place were the pace of life was the same what ever the hour. One night I was taken to the famous Pinkies a Tattoo artist, he was very busy so I went to another artist, I chose my design, mirrored images of tigers fighting dragons to go on my chest! What was I doing? My mum would have gone daft; she used to complain that I lived in my football socks.
Hong Kong was a bustling dynamic place were the pace of life was the same what ever the hour. One night I was taken to the famous Pinkies a Tattoo artist, he was very busy so I went to another artist, I chose my design, mirrored images of tigers fighting dragons to go on my chest! What was I doing? My mum would have gone daft; she used to complain that I lived in my football socks.
Well the scene was set, there I was being tattooed in a small one bed roomed house in the middle of Wanchie district, the front room was full of what was obviously the whole family, they were watching as I was going through my painful ordeal, being fed bottles of beer buy the artists wife, while children cried and played all around me.
The ordeal lasted for what seemed hours, the pain reduced as the more beer I drunk, eventually I vomited all over the floor just missing said children, the tattoo miraculously was finished very quickly and I was ushered out.
I remember emptying my wallet in the wife’s hands, obviously paying through the nose for my beer and vomit. My “oppos” were waiting in a near by bar with what was left of the local talent.
My night was finished, I was taken back to HMS Tamar in an Irish rickshaw were I slept through until it was time to go to work again.
My night was finished, I was taken back to HMS Tamar in an Irish rickshaw were I slept through until it was time to go to work again.
The Wanchie was the destination most nights and the time in Honky Fid seemed to fly past. I left with my tatts and my new coats, others left with little but the memory of a wonderful run ashore, there were those who took home more than they hoped for and spent a fortnight telling wife’s and girlfriends why they didn’t want sex.
I left HMS Defiance within a few months for a more welcoming draft close to home HMS Caledonia at Rosyth, there I was employed to work on the Mine sweepers. I used to watch them passing Burntisland when I was just a child, I could never have imagined then that one day I would be maintaining them. I worked in the fleet maintenance yard and lived at home. It was also a short but very enjoyable time.
Naval drafting was in deed a black art, I asked to go to Scotland which was unusually quickly granted but within months I was informed that I was a volunteer to join Her majesties Submarine service, I can’t remember the volunteering part but before long the papers came through and I was off "Jolly old Portsmouth" and the Submarine training establishment at HMS Dolphin. It was not to be the last time in my career. I was to be fitted into a square hole, so to speak.
HMS Dolphin was a more relaxed establishment than I was used to and was full of odd bods, they obviously never look at peoples vital statistics when they consider them for life in a floating tube. There were people of all shapes and sizes thin tall, short fat, tall fat, short and skinny not what you see on adverts to join the forces and never like those who stand so smart and tall on guard at the cenotaph every November they are all exactly the same height.
Fitting in a submarine is in itself an art, It should not be difficult to imagine a six foot nineteen stone sailor moving at high speed through the tight and low deckhead passage ways trying to get his breakfast from the galley, dangerous, but after a short time “poetry in motion”. It is knowing when to duck, dive turn and bend the body muscles all moving as in sync, after a while and not having to many bumps and bruises it becomes second nature, even in the dark.
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