A while ago I wrote about my unwanted sexual encounters as a youth with
homosexuals. There was one and only one other that happened, when I
was about thirteen. A friend and I were fishing for tiddlers in the
Grand Union Canal at Hayes; we were using flimsy nets. I remember my
friend, he was two years younger than me, and I remember especially
his old man who was very tall and had some sort of nasal or speech
defect. Another (on-off) friend who was in the year below me called
him “Punch”, rather unkindly.
Anyway, the two of us were fishing of sorts when a young bloke rode up on his
bike, dismounted, and engaged us in conversation. Then he lured us
into the bushes – well, scraggly trees as I recall – and asked us
if we wanted to make some money. We asked how, and he replied “Give
us a wank”. Then he proceeded to show us what he wanted us to do,
removing his hampton from his jeans, and rotating it. John and I
looked at each other, smiled, and declined politely.
With no
more ado, the guy put away his member, and getting on his bike rode
off towards Southall. I never told anyone about that, and as far as I
know my friend didn’t either. If I had told my old man he would
almost certainly have phoned the police. I suppose I should have
because with the hindsight of four decades and more, what he did was
very serious, but in the 1960s and early 70s, bumboys and queers were
a bit of a joke.
A few years
ago I was doing some newspaper research at Colindale when I found a
report of someone who had been engaged in that sort of activity by
the canal. Although the year fitted, I don’t think it was him; canal
towpaths are notorious for perverts of all shapes and sizes, although
this was the first and only time I have ever experienced something like this on one, not
that I make a habit of frequenting such places myself.
The story I
have just related is totally accurate as far as I recall, and if my
friend could be traced – assuming he is still alive – he might
well confirm it, but what use is it as court testimony? It is an
anecdote, nothing more, although unlike the story about Rolf Harris
groping a 7 year old girl in Portsmouth, it is a true one. I can
imagine though how it would be possible for me to milk this should I receive by
some obscure quirk of fate a friendly call from the police
who were trawling for historical victims of the Grand Union towpath
paedo.
I think
this guy may have had ginger hair, but regardless of my total
inability to identify him, mine and that of the other two dozen
“victims”, he would be convicted. I would then be invited to make
a victim impact statement.
Where do I
begin, Your Honour? I could have gone to university, but I flunked
out. At the age of 19 I became a compulsive gambler; most people turn
to drink and/or drugs to erase the memory of these terrible
flashbacks, but I took to poker, and other things. That’s the
reason I took a massive overdose in July 1976. That’s the reason I did a
three year stretch in 1983-5, not the main reason but the only
reason. That’s the reason I lost the only woman who ever truly
loved me. That’s the reason I never made anything of myself. Well,
apart from publishing more limericks than I care to remember,
hundreds of poems, thousands of articles, dozens of pamphlets, a
fistful of books, getting the odd citation in the academic
literature, appearing in lively discussion programmes on Iranian TV,
and scanning two archives for posterity.
What a load
of bunk sex attack “survivors” do talk. Anyway, I was not
attacked, the guy never laid a hand on me, and I certainly never put
my hand on his dick.
When I was
young I had not a few unpleasant experiences with adults, but apart
from this, they were all of a non-sexual nature. In those days, men
as well as women would not tolerate backchat from the young, and at
times they would even get physical with you. They daren’t do that
nowadays of course. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, but it is a
different world.
There was
one other, humorous incident that today would be interpreted as of a
sexual nature but was no such thing. I was in a neighbour’s flat,
and this woman, a family friend, was lactating, having recently given
birth to her third child. For some reason she was barebreasted and
showing me her tits, something to do with the baby I think. Maybe I
asked a question about her producing milk, but I distinctly remember
her squirting her nipple at me and hitting me in the face with a
small jet. Obviously laughter followed. I can’t remember exactly
how old I was, but I must have been 9 at the outside because we moved
from our flat to a house at some point.
As I said,
this was a humorous incident, and was almost certainly prompted by my
curiosity, but I wonder if today she wouldn’t be arrested and
charged with some bizarre sexual offence against a minor. How sick is
that?
As I said, this was a humorous incident, and was almost certainly prompted by my curiosity, but I wonder if today she wouldn’t be arrested and charged with some bizarre sexual offence against a minor. How sick is that?