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Happy Valley

Paul Anka had a ten-incher called Diana. I saw it once in a junkshop in Preston, of all places. I was pretty impressed and would have loved to have had it, but I didn’t have a record-player at the time, and anyway, I was looking for a blanket. Winter was approaching and I was getting bloody cold sleeping out on Plungington Road every night. I’d been kicked out by my girlfriend after another argument about courgettes and cucumbers. I’ll spare you the gruesome details.

Luckily I managed to steal a blanket from an Oxfam shop – I know, I know, but I was desperate. It snowed that night, so I felt vindicated. What do you want me to do? Freeze to death in Lancashire so that somebody doesn’t die of hunger in Nigeria?

Fortune favours the brave they say. Try telling that to my poor old mate Johnny Parfitt. All right, so he got a medal for what he did over in The Falklands, but it never got pinned to his jacket.

When we were teenagers we used to go sledging at Happy Valley if there was a good fall of snow. The rich kids had proper sledges, but we used any old bit of wood or plastic. Johnny came a cropper there one year as well, not as final that time though. He was the only one brave enough to go down on an old scaffold plank standing up. Broke his collar bone.

We were up there one summer and Johnny dared me to run down the hill. I must have been pretty stupid, because I did. Try it yourself one day. It’s a steep slope and it wasn’t long before my legs couldn’t keep up with my downward momentum. I was right out of control. Fortune did favour me that day in the shape of a gorse bush which arrested my breakneck flight, and I escaped with just a few scratches and bruises. At the top of the hill they were killing themselves. I suppose it must have looked pretty funny.

After Johnny was killed we broke into his dad’s builders yard and stole a scaffold plank – yeah, it probably wasn’t the same one. We buried it in a trench down on the valley floor and made a small slab out of cement on which we inscribed with a stick – JOHNNY WIPED OUT HERE. Our tribute is still there as far as I know, but we dug up the scaffold plank four years later. We sawed it up and used it as the base for a big bonfire on which we burnt an effigy of Diego Maradona dressed in full kit and curly black wig. We had long memories, and yeah, we held grudges.

I went up to Preston not long after that to be with my girlfriend who was starting at college there. She booted me out – we’ve been through that. I was pretty miserable then and I thought about Johnny and my old mates a lot. My stolen blanket and the memory of that curly-headed bastard going up in flames kept me warm.

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A big hit for Paul Anka and a bigger hit for Johnny.

This photograph is Hand of God by Mike Stimpson who has graciously given me permission to use it to accompany the story.

Tags

argentina, death, diana, england, mates, memories, sledging, sleeping rough

I paint watercolours and write short stories.

If you would like to pay me lots of money for my stories e-mail me

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Comments

  • Natella2020
    Natella2020about 4 years ago

    I can’t think of anything to say except that this was something really great to read.

  • Thank you Natella. I don’t really know what it’s all about either apart from some overlapping memories and invented bits.

    – ian osborne

  • Glenn Marshall
    Glenn Marshallabout 4 years ago

    Love this little tale Ian – it’s like listening to an old mate in his cups – some bits definitley true and some that ought to be!

  • That’s right Glenn – they ought to be. Well they are now!!

    – ian osborne

  • Purplecactus
    Purplecactusalmost 4 years ago

    When you write a book, I will be first in the que. This is just glorious stuff

  • That’s real nice of you pete. If I ever do, you get the first one off the press for nothing!

    – ian osborne

  • Steve  Hamblin
    Steve Hamblinalmost 4 years ago

    Its interesting what things we attach memories too sometimes. It reminded me of a teddy bear that I had as a child. It was named Charley One Eye becuase one of the eyes was missing. Thanks for the reminder

  • Glad it brought back some happy memories Steve.

    – ian osborne

  • Mardra
    Mardraalmost 4 years ago

    I love your style!

  • Thanks Mardra. I quite like this one, but I don’t quite know why….

    – ian osborne

  • LisaMM
    LisaMMalmost 4 years ago

    Brilliant writing Ian, magnificent story telling, you really have such a wonderful ability to weave a warm and rich story, with humour laced through in between some poignant moments of reflection. Enjoyed this thoroughly.

  • Thanks Lisa. Not quite sure where this came from!

    – ian osborne

  • raymondoantonio
    raymondoantonioover 3 years ago

    A GREAT WRITE IAN!! HAD ME LAUGHING AT THE FIRST SENTENCE UNTIL I REALISED YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT A TEN INCH VINYL RECORD AND NOT A PORNO SIZED JIMMY JOHNSON!!! BRAVO!!

  • Thanks Raymondo. I really did covet that disc when I saw it there…and it’s a great song!

    – ian osborne

  • rjpmcmahon
    rjpmcmahonover 3 years ago

    Great write Ian, never knew much about the hand of God but I gather the brits were a little upset :-)) reminds me of another incident that will never be forgotten.

  • Thanks Rick. Just watched it…shameful daisycutter.

    – ian osborne

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