|
For anyone
particularly interested, my name is Nigel Edwards. I was born of
Welsh parents in 1954, in the town of Enugu in Nigeria, and named
after the river Niger. At the
time Nigeria was one of the last remnants of British colonialism,
and my father was working for the British Coal Board in the
country, while my mother enjoyed herself with her own show on the local
colonial radio. In fact she had an excellent singing voice, and
was a very good pianist to boot.
The family returned to the UK in
1956/7, so my first-hand knowledge of those earliest years is
non-existent. Such 'memories' that seem to be resident are,
in fact, derived from looking at old cine film and photographs
that my parents took. Apparently I was brought up on West African
curry, which I suppose might explain why I've suffered from a
variety of hernia's ever since.
We returned to the UK, as I said, to
take up residence in a large white house called Crossways in the
North Wales town of Wrexham. My three main memories of that house
are: falling through the roof of a shed (I don't remember why I
climbed up there - it's just what you do when you are 5 or 6);
being in bed with German Measles with the curtains drawn all day;
and watching my best friend crossing the road on his way home, to
be struck by a passing car. I think he died. At any rate, I never
saw him again. Oh, and we had a big rocking horse, taken from a
fairground ride, in the nursery. I thought it was wonderful.
We moved a few short years later,
after the arrival of my sister to a small bungalow in a new estate
in the same town. The bungalow was named 'Tillapa' (or was it Tilappa? Tillappa?), after the boat that finally returned us to
these shores. A couple of years on and my brother arrived.
I attended the local Nursery, Infants,
and Junior schools. In the latter, I remember I had three teachers
called Miss Sugg, Mrs. Griffiths, and Miss Clare (if memory
serves.) One or two of
these three was/were, apparently aunt(s) of mine, though whether
they were true relations or simply family friends I cannot be
sure. My three main memories of my time at the school are: the
head mistress (not a relation) ordering two boys who had been
naughty (?) to the front of the assembly hall one morning, and
telling us how bad they had been. She then instructed the boys to
take their pants down in front of the whole assembly, saying that
the one who did would receive his spanking with his pants on,
while the other would have to receive his punishment with his
pants off. One boy did drop his pants, and I suppose then took his
medicine in its' lesser form. Can you imagine a head teacher doing
such a thing today?
The second memory is when, on my very
first day at Infants school, I burst into tears in the playground,
and telling an enquiring teacher that I was 'scared of the big
boys.' It wasn't that the 'big boys' had done anything, I was just
scared of them. In those days there wasn't a separate play area
for the smallest children. Everyone went into the big yard and got
on with it, regardless of age. My third memory is that I was the
first child in the school to receive a complete, brand new school
uniform. I was sent from class to class to demonstrate how all
good children should look when they attended school, and felt
thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing!
At the age of ten we moved house to
Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. My father had left the coal board, after
years of studying for new qualifications, and joined the Civil
Service as a mineral valuer, eventually becoming one of no more
than a dozen or so in the country with his level of qualification.
In Newcastle I failed my 11+ exam and went to a comprehensive. I
did pretty well in school, academically, but this could be because
the standard was not particularly high. When, in 1968 (I think) we
moved - again with my father's job - to Cardiff, my parents went
to great efforts to get me into a good quality grammar school.
Unfortunately, by comparison with the other students, I was quite
backward, and so bad at mathematics in particular that I was kept
down an entire year. What gets me, though, is that I was forced to
sit through all subjects again, not just maths. I think
that's what finally made me give up on formal education, and
generally become a very bad student, including the skipping of
lessons.
I did discover rugby, though. Best
game in the world! I played for the school A-side, breaking ankles
and wrists on more than one occasion, learned to drink beer (thanks
to the games masters who had no problem with supping a pint with
us 14 year-olds in the local after games against other local
schools, and indeed, against visiting schools from Scotland and
France. Ah, happy days! I also learned to smoke. Nobody (other
than my parents) seemed to mind.
After failing most of my O-levels, I
quit school at age 18, leaving the 6th Form where I had been
graciously permitted to attend, ostensibly to re-sit maths and one
or two others, as well as study English for A-level. I joined the
RAF in 1973 and went to RAF Swinderby for basic training. Mitch,
if by any remote chance you are reading this, do you remember
meeting up on the platform at Cardiff station? Our first days? How
nervous we all were? Do you remember Jim, the 'old' Scotsman who
became barrack-room leader? Do you remember carrying me into the
doctors' once, after I'd thrown up over the barrack-room floor,
and the snotty SAC who insisted on my agreeing that I had 'the
flu' before he would allow me to see the MO? What a tit!
After training as a telegraphist at
RAF Cosford, and being posted to RAF Hendon, I eventually was
rewarded with an overseas tour of duty to Masirah, a small island
off the coast of Oman. Nothing but sand, rocks, camel grass, and
camel spiders as far as the eye could see! John B., we shared a
room in 1976. You were very into Iron Maiden as I recall, and
there was another lad in the same room who always used to dress in
black (when off duty) and listen to Mud. Remember the raised fish
pond in the quad? And the trips to Millionaires Beach? Remember
the locust swarms?
I had my 21st birthday in temperatures
that you wouldn't believe, as Vulcan bombers roared overhead, on
the way to a little confrontation that was still going on in the
Yemen.
In 1978 I got married, demobbed in
1979, and eventually my two lovely children, fine girls, came to
grace the world.
In 2004 I found my new partner. We
married in 2008, and this time I know it's the right choice.
Without My Lady I would not be complete, and it is solely through
her support and encouragement that I have been able to write
anything at all.
There is an awful lot more I could
say, of course, but I think the above will suffice to give a basic
understanding of why I am me. I just want to finish by saying
thanks for visiting my website, and hope that you will enjoy
reading some of my work.
Nigel Edwards, 2008 |