DISCLAIMER Before you read any further I must point out, that names and places have been changed to avoid embarrassment to the guilty who may one day be proven innocent and will almost certainly want to sue me. If their names are changed they can whistle for any damages. If I do not avoid being defamatory about my family and friends, I will have to obtain surgery, Eyes have to be transplanted into the rear of my head to observe the possibility of a knife being plunged into my back or a rocket inserted up the opening that sees no light. Introduction I was born in December 1942 in London to a Father who was an RAF Chaplin and a mother who was the eldest daughter of a Farmer. The first couple of years of my life were spent with my mother on my Grandfathers farm in Essex. Returning to London at the end of the Second World War, I was to go to a small private school in NW London. We lived a Christian way of life and Father taught both my younger brother, sister and myself not to be ashamed of our bodies. We were to make several visits to nudists clubs and beaches. Indeed father was Chaplin to a number of naturist clubs in and around London and the Home Counties at the age of 11 my father decided to send me to a public school in Buckinghamshire. I was to remain at this school until I was 18. Being brought up as a Christian I took believers baptism at the age of 14. On my 16th birthday my father asked me which career did I wish to follow? “I want to be an actor or a professional footballer ” was my reaction. My father’s response to this was to suggest that I go into the Air force. Informing me "As an actor or footballer unless you are exceptionally good you would not find employment easy". As an obedient son I promised that I would do as he requested. At age 18, I joined the RAF and served 5 years. I retired from the RAF as a flight lieutenant (ground crew.) I wanted to be a pilot but my eyesight did not come up to the high standard required. My love for the theatre followed me from my schooldays into the air force. I played mostly character parts because of my command of dialects. I also got involved with the local football and cricket teams. I had been quite a good all round cricketer in the services and played soccer and cricket for the RAF. I still had desires to be a professional soccer player or to be an actor. As I failed my trial with Ipswich Town Football club I did turn to my other love and later I joined a schools repertory company in Essex. Alas I found I could not survive on the meagre wages and when 12 months later I was approached by The Border News local newspaper to write for them on drama and sport, I accepted this with open arms. I did both jobs for 6 months until the newspaper offered me full time employment. I would cover anything in the field of news including sport and drama. Writing had not been my first love but was going to prove to be my life for the foreseeable future. It was while I was working for the newspaper that I was to meet my wife to be Heather Angel We met when I was 25 and married a year later. We had two girls Melanie and Louise. My biggest break was to come when in 1979, 10 years after I married Heather. The new local radio Station Border AM wanted a news reporter with a clear speaking voice. They got me and for 11 years I was travelling the border area for all manner of newsworthy stories. My second big break was to come in 1990 when I was approached by an international news agency. I would find that the next 6 months I was in all manner of countries covering news of disasters, terrorist attacks, elections, wars etc. Alas on returning home after 6 months abroad, I divorced my wife on the grounds of adultery with a neighbour. I spent only a month at home in the UK in a flat in Colchester before the agency sent me away again to cover the situation in Iraq and other hotspots round the world. In 1993 I decided to become a freelance journalist and with the aid of my agent Raquel East work was to come in at an alarming rate with several documentaries to my name. Although I did not see much of Raquel whilst I was abroad anything from 7 to 8 months away we became very close and almost to the point we discussed marriage. I realized that in my capacity as an international journalist, marriage would not work out, as time in the UK would be less and less frequent. No woman could be satisfied with only seeing her husband a third of a year on average 3 weeks in every two months. We still remain very good intimate friends despite the fact she married and divorced her third husband after I turned her down. I can’t see myself being her husband now or in the future, but hope as well as being my agent we can still remain friends CHAPTER 1 My Early Years “I was more than upset when I found out that this Welshman was touching my girlfriend up. I did not intend to do what I did; it was in a fit of rage. I picked up this empty beer bottle and smashed it against the wall then I crushed it into his face, as you know. I had never seen so much blood pouring out of a man’s face or the skin tear so easily. As I pulled the bottle back I was shocked to see that one of his eyeballs was attached to the bottle. I dropped the bottle and ran”. This was the statement of the young airman I was asked to defend at a court martial. He had been asked which officer should represent him and he had asked for Flying Officer Bare. I had visited the welsh airman in hospital. He was undergoing surgery later that day to try and save his eyesight but the scars on his face would be permanent. I was going to defend his assailant but in all honesty having seen the Welsh airman’s face I did not feel I could defend such an animal for the damage he had done to a fellow human being. All I could do was plead that he had remorse for his actions. The day of the trial and he was convicted of the heinous crime and sent to Prison for 10 years and a discharge from the RAF. I am writing this first chapter of my biography from a cabin in Tema, Accra in the West African republic of Ghana. I hope to be able to put this book together in some chronological order as I remember my past life. However it will probably read like an assortment of short essays. My first memory was of as a child being evacuated to my Grandfather’s farm in Essex after my birth in London. My mother was there with me whilst my father a Chaplin in the RAF was overseas in the desert. We were travelling on the local omnibus into Colchester and I was only 2 years of age and had a curiosity about money. My little hands went into the moneybag of the bus conductor and I withdrew 2 half crowns without the conductor knowing. I raised the money in my hands and said to my mother “look mummy money, money" My mother instantly realized that I had taken this from the conductors bag and apologised for my light-fingered escapade. Maybe I was destined to become a pickpocket. However my parents were not poor and so vision of being an Oliver Twist never materialized. My second memory was of being in the family home in London. My father was back from the war and I was 4 years of age give and take a few months weeks and days. The hosepipe was fixed onto the tap in the kitchen as the gardener was giving the garden a watering. I must have been strong for a young baby as I pulled the hose off the pipe and the entire kitchen was flooded. Not me to get the blame but the poor gardener was sacked instantly for being incompetent. I was less than forthcoming with the truth as the gardener left complaining that he had fixed the hosepipe properly. Visions of me perhaps becoming a strongman in a circus could have possibly been envisaged. I move forward to the day I started school and being taken by my nanny to the infant class. I was not in a good mood having been woken from my sleep and brutally hauled along to an alien environment with kids I did not know. My reaction as I saw my Nanny walk away was to punch an innocent child on the nose. Maybe I was cut out to be a pugilist. I was remonstrated in respect of my outburst, but later my victim and I were to become great friends. Godfrey and I were to share the same career. Both entered the RAF as officers and we both became journalists in our own right. We also shared a love of drama and sport. We still joke about the time I punched his nose. What away to strike up a friendship, however I don’t recommend this to any of my readers who might find that they would force a reaction from whoever they hit to respond and give them a bloody nose, perhaps even more than they had bargained for. I was 8 when I was first started playing soccer at school. Although small in statue I was very fast .My sports teacher played me on the right wing where my ability to beat defenders to the ball and made a crosses in the face of the goal with almost pinpoint accuracy. This let our centre forward or inside forwards aim for goal. I played for our primary school up until I was 11 and then Dad and Mum decided I should go to a public school. Alas when I enrolled there I was not a happy bunny as they only played rugby and cricket. Ok for cricket I was deemed to be a good all rounder batted well at number 4 and second change bowler. My devious spin got them out. I hated rugby for in the scrum I disliked the idea of my nose being close the dirty arses of my fellow and opposition players. I had to suffer that awful game for a winter before a new sports master allowed football to be introduced into the curriculum. I was to be a regular in the school soccer team and overjoyed at being made captain. This school also boasted a number of famous actors that had passed through the corridors of this elegant school of St Columbus. I found the pleasure of treading the boards a real delight. I was in 12 dramas and 3 pantomimes during my stay at this public school. With the name of Bare you would think that my nickname would be naked or nude, but no; the name I was given was weevil. I suppose because like the weevil I was into everything. Sub editor of the school magazine, playing cricket, football, acting etc. I did unfortunately attract the attention of a couple of bullies. Who tried to deprive me of my satchel and various private items? I did manage to avoid them most of the time but they did rob me of my soccer boots and diary. They also used to prevent me from entering into the common room. I did not want an argument so I walked away. I did bide my time and when one of the bullies was confined to bed with food poisoning. Should have been both of them but the other one did not eat his porridge. I can own up now I put a concoction into their food to get my own back. Whilst the other bully was on his own and tried to taunt me I turned on him with anger (the bitten bites back) I was pushing his head against the wall. As I did so my eyes were closed so I could not see the blood pouring out of his head. No teachers were in the vicinity but when a shout from the watching crowd of boys was made very loudly. I opened my eyes and let his limp body fall to the ground. No prosecution was taken against me, as nobody would admit to seeing the incident. My former assailant to his credit did not reveal my name. In our school telling tales was strictly taboo. If anybody broke this unwritten rule, woe betides him, as his fate would have been horrendous. I wont go into too many details but to say that one boy caught telling tales was hung from a tree by his feet. He was not rescued until a housemaster heard his cries some time later after his ridicule had been put into operation. My Grandparents were an old fashion couple and had no time for electric. They used oiled fired lamps at night and the radio was powered by battery. My Grandfather demanded silence when the Archers were on (an every day story about country folk) This serial’s still on the radio today and probably the worlds longest running radio drama. Though my grandparents house was large with 6 bedrooms an outhouse, kitchen, pantry, Dinning room, lounge, reception room (no internal bathroom or running water). A standpipe outside the garden gate was the nearest water point .The toilet was outside behind the back of the house through the orchard. It was a wooden hut and a plank with a hole in it, sufficient for the bum to sit on. I can still remember the time as a child I almost fell down the hole and I had nightmares of this incident in the nights that followed. I was in the local park when an elderly lady started to tell me more about Jesus Christ and the rally to be held at Wembley stadium that evening when the Christian evangelist Dr Billy Graham would be preaching. My father and mother encouraged both my sister and brother to come with them. I found that my desire to accept Jesus into my life was prominent and went forward to become a born again Christian. My sister and brother were both reluctant to go forward, but at a later date they were later to accept Jesus as their saviour. A month after becoming a B.A.C. I was baptised in our local church, the church I still belong to today. My Father though not the minister of that church was given permission to baptise me. The whole family were present at this ceremony. My father had no church as he was working for an evangelical association and was the Chaplin to several naturists clubs and other organisations in and around London, The first real disaster in my life that was to cause me trauma was the Christmas of 1957. My grandfather and myself had gone outside at about 9 pm for our constitution as it was only a number one motion we went to the bog patch behind the house to empty our bladders. I followed him out but before we could carry out this bodily function we looked in the direction of the village, we noticed that the sky was alight with flames. He passed a comment “Hope that not be our kids place going up” reference to my widowed aunt who lived with my cousin in a small thatched cottage on the outskirts of the village. We looked towards the lane that led up to the farmhouse a car was coming up towards the house. We knew this was coming here, as the only reason to come up this narrow unmade road was to visit us. The car stopped and my Aunt got out of the car with my cousin 13 year old cousin John. I can’t remember the exact words. The gist of the conversation was that the house had caught light my cousin and Aunt were in bed she smelt burning and seeing flames coming through the wall had woken up John and fled the house. Everything had been lost in that fire including the photographs of her husband who had been shot down in his aircraft during the war flying back after a successful bombing trip to Berlin. It was in the final days of the war and my Aunt and cousin were looking forward to him coming home. I don’t want to dwell too much on my early education days, as it would read more like "Tom Brown’s schooldays". To be honest; to quote George Bernard Shaw “School is an interruption to education” In my years after leaving school age 18 I obeyed my father’s wish given on my 16th birthday that I would join the armed services. Thus I enlisted into the RAF to be trained as an officer. End of chapter 1 |
| Dated 26 Feb 2009 |
| CHAPTER 2 click here |
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| AUTOBIOGRAPHY |