Zatopek

Dear Blog,

I had an e-mail on Thursday which reminded me of my sleeping arrangements in the 60s!! While I was a student, I was always broke (as in not having a lot of money, dear Blog) with only my grant to live on plus what I could earn in the holidays, usually in the mill or as a grounds man for the local authority, though I did dig holes for the electricity board and guard things as a security guard. When I was selected to run for the UAU (English Universities), BUSF (British Universities) or the County, expenses would be paid which would cover travel and accommodation before the race. Very good so far. Travelling from Durham City was no problem as it was on the main London to Newcastle line; but getting back was a buggar! From mid evening on a Saturday to mid day on a Sunday, Durham Railway Station was sucked into a black hole from which nothing emerged, not even a British Railways sandwich. Nowt stopped there, nowt at all. So a return trip was fraught with timetabling problems. How to get back before shut down?? Basically, it was not possible! One of the first book purchases from my grant each year was to buy the great tome of the Railway Timetable¹. I employed two techniques², depending on where the selected race was in the country. In those days as the Beeching axe was poised mid air, the train ticket between two places allowed a selection of routes to be used. If you set off from town A. and ended at town B., you could travel by whatever route you desired. The other thing to remember for the purposes of the next tale, Blog, is that the carriages consisted of individual compartments, sometimes with, sometimes without a corridor. Each compartment had a row of seats on each side with a luggage rack above. The scene is set. Say I was picked to run for BUSF v ECCU v Combined Services, the latter promoting the race. It would entail a trek down to Portsmouth. Now there was no way I was going to return to the North East the same day short of using Dr. Who’s Tardis. And that was not possible because Dr. Who had not yet travelled to the BBC. The police box had only policemen in. It came about purely by chance that on one of my first selection races I ended up stranded on Leeds railway station about midnight. With nowhere to go until the morning train to Durham, I made myself as comfortable as possible on a bench and made ready to pass the next ten hours with as little discomfort as possible. I was shaken awake by a couple of policemen and told to move on. Production of a valid ticket allowed me to remain bench prone until the next patrol disturbed me with the same instruction and outcome. They offered the advice that I should keep all valuables safe from opportunist thieves. The only thing of value was my train ticket. I was a student, Mr Policeman, sir. And not a very rich student, Miss Policewoman.

It wasn’t long before I ended up on the Leeds station again after another selection race. This time I was a little earlier in the evening, but still stuck there ... but for longer! The second hand book stall on the station was still open, so to kill some time, I had a browse. The browse produced Emil Zatopek’s book by Frantisek Kozik (originally 27/6 from Foyles on the inside sticker. I must have paid a bob?).... I didn’t realise at the time what a find it was. Nor twelve months later, did I realise how stupid I was to pass up a chance to meet the great athlete. I was asked to entertain him for an afternoon, but was too shy to take up the offer ... can you believe that? That Blog, is God’s honest truth!!  Six years later I was scheduled to meet the great man again, but this time it was a Communist crackdown the thwarted the meeting. Perfectly true, and I’d taken my book with me to the proposed meeting for him to sign!!!  

The visit from the police that night / morning proved a little more amenable for two reasons. When asked to produce my ticket, still sleepy I couldn’t find it. The policewomen from my last visit recognised me and suggested my shoe, the place she advised the last time for hiding money etc..! I couldn’t believe she could remember me from before. I was impressed. My Cuthbert’s scarf was the giveaway, the same design as her sister’s school scarf!!!! (read next time dear Blog for police coincidence number two and the IRA!!!). And they invited me to the station office used by rail night staff and patrolling police for a cup of tea and biscuits. My cup of tea and biscuits became a regular in the next couple of years. (read next time dearest Blog, when I didn’t quite make it to the Leeds platform)

And for my next book ... the book stall became something to look forward to on my visits to Leeds en route to Durham. It seemed to be open all hours. The books seemed extraordinarily interesting for a second hand stall. W.R.Loader’s ‘Staying the Distance’ was my next bargain buy, a former public library book. Now those of a certain age will remember Tony Hancock’s comical frustration with the missing last page of the novel he was reading... mine was not the missing last page but pages 129 to 144 which were printed twice and the pages 145 to 161 were missing!!! I didn’t realise this until I turned page 144 over after reading the first eight chapters!!!! In pre e-bay days, where to find another copy of an out of print book? That was the sixty three thousand dollar question! It was out of print so it was destined to sit on my book shelves sulking for a number of lonely years. Praise be the Lord for the foresight of someone to think up the idea of a Charity Shop. Again it was before e-bay, but a copy was found sitting miserably in a charity shop. More accurately, sitting in a miserable charity shop. In Pembroke Dock returning from a holiday in Eire. (Me returning from a holiday in Eire not the book returning from a h....) There it was. Waving at me. Here I am Colin, save me from this run down hole in outer Wales. Take me to the bright lights of Coventry. I started to re-read it after I arrived back home. Now does someone up there in the great unknown like taking the p**s out of me or does someone up there in the great unknown like taking the p**s out of me?? Sections of the book had never been cut (separated); can you believe that, Blog? They were still folded as before binding, so pages could not be read! Dilemma. Do I go through the book, slice the pages apart and find out what happened in the novel? Or is someone up there in the great unknown trying to tell me something ... that I should leave the leaves and further search  ... I’m still looking. What did happen after page 144???!!

         So its goodbye to Zatopek, and its goodbye to Loader and its goodbye to Blog, Colin.

*Contain yourself until next time Blog. If I was running a race for which I had entered myself, ditto the above but for ‘train’ read ‘hitch hiking’ and for ‘Leeds Station’ read the ‘London Embankment’!!  I will write to you Blog about this and ref: 1 and ref: 2 in the future if you drop us a quids or two for you know what. What?