By Isle of Wight Observer
Picking at spots, dreaming of girls, and – furtively – looking at top-shelf magazines in newsagents are things I remember about being 15.
At 16, I bought a Suzuki AP50 moped, and enjoyed almost grown-up freedom – until I wrecked it. I didn’t pass any exams, even in English and art – subjects I loved. It didn’t seem to have much impact on my life. Thanks to my sister, Deb’s excessive telephone use, my stepfather installed a payphone by the front door. Embarrassingly, when we called our friends, the pips went, and we shoved 2p coins in. This was very uncool, especially for a teenager, friends assumed we didn’t have a home phone.
Poor Kirstie Allsopp is under fire after revealing her 15-year-old son travelled around Europe with a friend of similar age. Incredibly, despite always claiming to be ‘short staffed’ and under pressure when things go tragically wrong, her local social services got in touch.
Aged just 9 or 10, we travelled on London’s underground network and spent many happy hours upstairs on Routemaster buses. Without adult supervision, we visited every corner of London. I recall playing on the ‘beach’ by Tower Bridge while the massive tide was out. To earn money, we fetched cows, bottled and delivered their milk, stacked shop shelves and cleaned windows. I carried golf clubs and picked spuds on farms. I peeled and eyed tons of spuds at the local chippie.
Mum and Dad lived 60 miles apart, and one day, probably aged 13 or so, I decided to ride my old bike from London to my Dad’s in Oxford.
Despite several punctures, I made it to the outskirts, but I’d taken so long, the light was fading, and my lovely Dad came to find me. I’d bought that bike myself, and no-one suggested I shouldn’t have tried.
Another after-school job was washing cars at a dealership specialising in Minis. The boss seemed to really like me, and one evening, he took me for a drink. Being gay was still fairly underground in the ’70s – I was certainly naïve, but nothing occurred. I often hitch-hiked in my early teens, and was twice picked up by gay men and escaped their gentle advances in well-lit areas. These were minor scares, and I certainly didn’t tell anyone about them.
With barely any cash, at 15 my mate, John, and I hitched a lift down the M3 in a container lorry. We were skint but planned on going camping. Forty-eight hours later, his kindly aunt in Dorset provided the train fare home. My reliance on lifts with dodgy strangers finally ended at 17 when I bought an old car.
By 16, I was working as an ‘on-board courier.’ DHL, UPS and FedEx didn’t exist then. In 1977, if you wanted to get letters or packages delivered, you put them into someone’s hand, and they physically took them there. Airlines offered cheap ‘youth fares,’ so all of us doing the deliveries were kids. Starting each day at 6am, I flew all over Europe, never quite knowing where I’d be going – Paris, Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Rome, Zurich, Dublin. On arrival, I took local trains, buses or taxis to various city centre addresses. Occasionally I flew from country to country, delivering in one place, collecting in another. I had no phone, no debit or credit card, and minimal cash for expenses.
Nights out in unfamiliar places were common, so you learned to think on your feet and make things work. If I couldn’t find a hotel, I slept at airports on plastic chairs.
These experiences shaped me, as did the 30 other jobs I had before settling on HGV driving. Research shows kids who work, and have responsibilities, suffer far less stress and anxiety as adults.
Parents – take a leaf out of Kirsty’s book – set your kids free, let go of the reins!