A Cock No More

A Memory of Royston.

At Royston Senior school, I was a young lad of 14 and although the lads did not know it, I was quite strong and could do a man's job such as lifting heavy sacks of grain and humping bails of hay. Although I was a quiet lad and never sought out wanting to fight with anyone let alone pick a fight, there was a time when a lad by the name of John Cadman had been trying to interest some of the lads in the school in having a fight with him. Many a lad the same size of him would lose every time, making it impossible for anyone wanting to tackle him. There was no doubt about it, John had some good strong biceps about him which put him into the category of the school 'Cock'.

John was in the mood for having what he would call a sparring partner and, being refused all around, John - all six foot of him - came up to me - a mere five foot five inches - and asked me if I'd be a sparring partner. I knew nothing of fighting let alone wanting to spar with a hulk of a lad. I refused him at first, but he pleaded with me, saying that it was only a fun fight and that he would not hurt me. And so it was that John and I were in the playing field where there were no spectators. John at first treated me a little gentle then began to apply more and more pressure upon me trying to get me to retaliate, pushing me harder and harder when I was saying to him ''Stop it John, stop it''. It wasn't that I was scared of him, it was because andrenaline was pumping within me so fast that I was enraged. John pushed me about where it really began to hurt! Point five of a second later I lunged into him, taking him totally by surprise, first using my forearm and pushing his upper chest and then at speed I placed my left arm at the back of his neck and then locked a grip so strong I was able to pull him forward; the fury of the rage I was in got John to make a shallow cry for me to let go of him. I was blocking his windpipe, but being full of rage I applied more pressure. John slumped in my arms and I finally let him drop to the ground. There he was, motionless and clinically dead, and was without breath. Panic, fear, call it what you like, I, knowing that I had killed the lad, ran some fifty yards down the field screaming out, with tears swelling down my eyes, that I had murdered him! What was going to happen to me! Would I go to jail? But it was in self-defence! Having paused from running I turned, screaming, and ran back towards John where he still lay motionless. Two long minutes had lapsed, and there I was now, stood over him when suddenly a fitting rage of temper brought me to my knees, and then I swore at him and began to punch him in his stomach. A huge sigh of air rushed in and out of his mouth and he slowly began to come round. John looked at me, saying that I HAD killed him and that he had seen himself looking over his own body and then began to drift away but suddenly a voice spoke to him and said to him 'Go back in John, it's not your time yet'. Some nine years later I was a window cleaner where I'd been doing a new estate. I heard as I was coming down my ladder a voice saying to me ''Roland you wouldn't mind cleaning my windows would you?''. His voice may have got a little more mature in his age but I recognised his voice straight away! I asked John how he was keeping and at the same time there was a swelling within me that wanted to cry deep inside, knowing that if I had not ran back to him and thumped him several times in his stomach I may have been looking at a charge of manslaughter and jailed for it. Anyway thank God it did not come to that! Still wanting to cry, and in order stop the swell of tears, I simply asked John if he'd like to have another bout with me. I'll give you a thousand guesses to what he replied; I'll save your suspense and tell you with one tearful sigh he simply said 'No thank you Roland'. John, maybe if you would not mind dropping me an email I would be happy to hear from you. God Bless.

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