Honour of the Line Read Free

looked fantastic, it was painted in maroon and cream, just like some of the railway carriages which used to pass across the arches near where we lived. Thank the Lord they never had the job of painting the Forth Bridge.
    On a bright summers day I got my first taste of adventure as my bike was finally finished and it made me feel like a million dollars. At first I had to be restrained by my Dad with a rope he had wound around the saddle stem and we went round the four sides of our block and through the series of alleys behind the houses which gave access to the back gardens. After a few days I was told I could go out on my own on the promise that I only went up and down the footpath at the front of our house, which meant my parents could keep an eye on me. This was great for the first day or two but boys will be boys so every once in a while I would go just around the corner a few yards and eventually ventured into the alleys which seemed like a Grand Prix circuit. Naively I assumed nobody had noticed but unfortunately one of our neighbours said to Mum “your Billy is really good on his bike, he tears up and downs the alleys like a racing driver”. Poor Mrs Evans, she had no idea she was dropping me in deep shit. My Mum told me I was grounded until further notice and my Dad rubber stamped this when he arrived home from work. So naturally the only thing left for me to do was to crawl around Grandad and see if he could make them change their minds. It all seemed to no avail but after a couple of days the ban was lifted but I had to promise to play by the rules. But rules were made to be broken so once again I cycled out of bounds but unbeknown to me my parents were on the lookout. Mum stood on one corner with Dad on the other but I headed for the complex of alleys and had the time of my life dodging them until eventually they sent for reinforcements, namely two Aunts and Uncles who lived on the next block. When I was eventually captured I got the mother of all bollockings from my Dad but I noticed my Mum, trying for all her worth, not to laugh. It must have been obvious to all and sundry that I would be destined for a life of mischief and controversy. Poor old Mum and Dad, they took their choice and opened box 13, which contained me, the booby prize.
    By the time I started school I was allowed to play in the street with the other kids form our block and all of the boys and girls became and remained friends throughout out school days.
    The family next door had two boys, John and Bob and a daughter Georgina, who was in my class at school. She became my best pal throughout our school days.
    John and Bob were older than me and my parents used to blame them for leading me astray, but I took no persuasion whatsoever to get into mischief. We sometimes crossed into the next block, bashed on peoples doors and legged it or ran past the greengrocers and grab an apple or banana, not to eat them but for the sheer devilment. At the far end of our block there was the community hall where whist drives and dances were often held. The hall had seen better days and the grounds were totally overgrown. John and Bob, being that bit older, managed to get some matches and so we used to set light to anything we could find in the hall grounds, waste paper, wood etc. I was always being questioned about being near bonfires but denied it to the bitter end. I clearly remember one time after school when I was around 7 years old, that we went for the jackpot and broke pieces of the already rather distressed fencing and made the mother of all bonfires, but sadly it all went horribly wrong, as owing to the unusually dry weather, the fire spread like fury and caught first of all the shed and then the other out buildings on fire. A passer-by rushed to the phone box, which was just opposite by the gas works entrance, and obviously they were extremely concerned that the fire would get totally out of control and cause devastation. For lads of our age this was an