John Cooke - All at Sea

Copyright 2020 John Cooke

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries

concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This book is based on fact and my early life as I remember it. I have changed names (including my own), as well as some events, to preserve anonymity. This is a fact-based memoir, interspersed with fiction; something I call faction.

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For Kate, who both lost and found herself on the

precarious path we call life.

And for others on the brink of adulthood, Id say,

follow your dreams and never stop trying.

Seek, and you will surely find.

Id like to thank a few people who have travelled with me on what, I feel, has been a long and arduous voyage. Firstly my wife, Carol, who I love dearly. Her work ethic, fortitude, and two great friends Percy Verance and Will Power have undoubtedy rubbed off on me over the years. And so, amongst other things, I am eternally grateful to her for that.

Wrekin Writers, a writing group I enrolled with a few years ago, have given me the confidence to believe. And in particular two of their members: firstly, John Dyson, who has literally been another pair of eyes to me. His proof-reading and encouragement have been a constant fillip to my endeavours. Secondly, Simon Whaley, an author in his own write. His business acumen and knowledge of the intricacies within the publishing world have been an invaluable resource; something which he has willingly shared with me on more than one occasion. And lastly to Kit Colbeck, wherever he is. The journal he kept of HMS Hermes 19681969 commission has been a rich source of information as we travelled halfway around the world. Thanks to you all; without you I would never have finished this book.

You wan taxi, Joe

You wan Seiko

You wan girl, Joe, young girlVirgin

1960s vendor Singapore.

The concept of time rarely appears on the radar of young people when they are growing up. Its difficult for anyone to make the right decisions without guidance; but it is especially difficult for young people who have no parents or carers, or anyone else they can trust or believe in. All young people have a God-given right to be loved and nurtured; but many are left disadvantaged in this respect.

Its hard enough for any young person to think things through; but its far more difficult for those who feel emotionally insecure, or who have been physically abandoned and let down by their nearest and dearest. Yet in spite of the desolation these young people experience, many are still expected to make life-changing decisions during their mid-teens. Its hardly surprising that many such kids dont give a f--- at that age; never mind thinking about what the future might hold for them. Too many young people are blind to post-school opportunities, and are often left to make decisions that can lead to poor life choices and possible long-term negativity.

All young people need to be wanted and yearn for a sense of belonging, but many of the so-called disadvantaged seek consolation elsewhere. Their desire for comfort and reassurance can lead to life within a sub-group; there they not only feel valued but have the freedom to live outside the constraints of family and convention.

Such vulnerable young people often succumb to peer pressure and can be easily coerced into acts of spontaneity which, in themselves, can be another contributory factor to poor decision-making.

Any young person, irrespective of background, can act impulsively and make rash decisions. The fallout is not always immediate; it can take time to manifest itself. For those young people who are alone, with little or no support, its often too late to settle into another life once theyve made that initial lifestyle decision, often a decision that rarely has anything to do with individual needs, aspirations, or talents.

Many young people cannot imagine what life will be like in ten, fifteen, twenty or thirty years time, as the future is a long way off, a distant, unreal place. When I was seventeen I thought Id live forever. I couldnt imagine being thirty years old; I thought if I ever got to thirty then the best years of my life were gone. Finito! It was then I made a poor decision, a life-changing mistake.

This is my story.

I first met Rib, short for Ribble, in Bournemouth. Hed chosen his road name after the river that runs through his home town of Preston. I met him under the pier where a dozen or so beats congregated towards the end of each day. Wed chat, smoke, and sing, as a few had guitars. And you could always rely on Red Rock to get up, shuffle some sand, and give us his rendition of Little Richards Tutti Frutti.

They were sunny, carefree days where wed con chicks, who spread themselves out on the manicured lawns of the Pleasure Gardens during their lunch hours. Theyd laze there, sitting on coats and jackets, snacking, enjoying the flowers, fresh air and sunshine. Wed smile and say, Hi, whenever we passed by, and if we received a nice smile, or positive response, wed ask if we could join them. Wed try to con a sandwich, or a tanner for a cup of tea, and mostly we did alright.

We were seventeen and it was the first time wed been totally free from parental control; life during that summer was a huge adventure for both of us. Although free, we didnt have much money, but I felt truly blessed when the kind old sun shone down and took the chill from my bones. Each day was filled with anticipation, not knowing who you might meet or what it might bring. Life back then was still a mystery to me, full of untold secrets. I was glad to be alive and took each day as it came.

Wed wander from the pier, through the Pleasure Gardens to French Corner, a popular meeting place, to see who was about. Id always hope to meet a Swedish chick from the Language School situated on the opposite side of the road; but it never happened. I only ever bumped into other beats who were part of the gang who gathered under the pier. It was the only time in my life where I can truly claim I was as free as a bird. Rib and I came and went with our sleeping bags casually slung over our shoulders; they were the only things that weighed us down and they weighed nothing at all.

When it got late and darkness began to creep in wed wind our way from under the pier, and head westwards along the promenade towards the Chines. Wed pass the sounds of the nearby neon-lit amusement arcade, playing its music of false hope and promises. Then slowly the babble and lights of the town surrendered to silent shadows and darkness as we sauntered along the sea front. The only sound accompaniment was the relentless tide crashing in and sucking its way out again; otherwise peace and tranquillity reigned. By the time we arrived at our sleepy hollow beneath the pines of Alum Chine our shadows had melted into a midnight hue. Wed pause at the entrance and gaze skywards, totally in awe of the star-peppered veil that stretched endlessly over our heads. The silver sprinkling of the cosmos had us mesmerised. Rib always pointed out a terrier-like cluster of stars he called The Dog, which I now know to be part of the Orion constellation. Such moments are forever encapsulated in that place and time. Wed stand there enthralled, unable to comprehend the enormity, complexity and beauty of the universe. I felt so small and insignificant in the grander scheme of things: inconsequential, yet paradoxically not out of place. Somehow I felt I belonged. I was at one with the world.