This might turn out to be one of those rambling posts because to tell the truth nothings been happening lately to talk of. Why did I just say to tell the truth? Of course I will tell the truth. Honest as the day is long, that's me. Except when I'm not.
Talking about honesty, I got done once for robbing gas meters. Got charged for it too, and went to court, and found guilty, and do you know what, in truth I was innocent. Never did it.
What happened was, I was living in a caravan on a site in Scotland and as was usual with me in those far off days I had spent all my money on whisky and beer.
Anyway this caravan had one of them shilling in the slot gas meters and I, being of an inquisitive nature had worked out a way of using the same coin over and over again. Naturally I had every intention of making up the shortfall just as soon as I had some money, but well, you know these things get overlooked. I mean when it comes to a choice between making up the meter money shortfall and buying a pint of beer what's a bloke to do? Yes exactly!
Unfortunately there was a spate of meter break ins at the caravan site, and when they came to see if I had been a victim too they discovered my meter didn't have any shillings in it. Of course I became the number one suspect. I tried to tell the coppers that I had nothing to do with the theft from the other caravans but they didn't want to know, and anyway I was well known to them due to my propensity to get into fights.
They arrested me and took me down to the police station, where they did everything they could to make me confess to the crime. Now in those days I was quite stubborn and there was no way I was going to confess to something I hadn't done. I did manage to hold out for quite a long time and when that happens and the police are determined to charge you they develop these strong urges to beat the crap out of you.
Now I don't know if you have ever been badly beaten whilst wearing handcuffs - hey lets keep your private life out of this story - but it does bloody well hurt. What happens is, they put you in a cell and every few hours two policemen come in and punch and kick you about. Stomach and kidneys are there favourite target areas. If you fight back they will further charge you with assaulting a police officer. Actually they might do this anyway. They keep doing this until you are ready to sign a statement, which incidentally, they have written themselves, in which you confess all.
Eventually, I had so many beatings that I signed their bit of paper and was charged with the thefts. I was remanded into custody for a couple of weeks and spent it in Craiginches prison in Aberdeen. What a shit hole that was. Eventually I was given a years probation. And guess what? I was grateful! Well I might well have been sentenced to a prison term.
Ironic isn't it? I was grateful that I got a years probation. For a crime I didn't commit!
So anyway just to set the record straight, and for the information of the coppers who beat the crap out of me and who served at Blackburn police station, on the outskirts of the city of Aberdeen in Scotland in the late sixties. I never bloody well did it! But you knew that already didn't you?
The moral of this story is: Never use the same shilling too many times. Is that a moral?
Hey how did I get onto this subject? Opening my heart to you like this? I tell you what, if I'm not careful I shall run out of things to talk about. But that won't happen for a good long while yet.