Читать книгу Class of '79 - Chris Rooke - Страница 30

I returned to Portsmouth, even more depressed than when I left, having seen the accommodation, friends and facilities enjoyed by Gazza in Leeds, compared to my miserable existence in Portsmouth, and for the first time ever, I was prepared to admit defeat, quit the course and return home to Oxford.

But then, just when I was at rock bottom, I bumped into someone I knew from school in Oxford, who was also studying at Portsmouth. Alan (AKA Womble - a nickname he gained after wearing a bobble hat that made him look a bit like a Womble!) was in the year above me and was studying Accountancy. Although he was a year older than me, I knew him from school mainly through the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme that we’d both joined, and I knew that he also shared my passion for motorcycles.

Neither of us knew the other had come to Portsmouth Poly and we were both very happy to discover each-other’s existence, and immediately went for a few drinks together. By chance, it turned out that he was being forced to leave his digs at Christmas (in Southsea it was common for students to be turfed out of their accommodation, usually at Easter, as landlords could charge much higher prices to tourists in the Summer months) and he was also looking for somewhere to live! Not only that but he had already found a large room in an old Victorian house – and just needed a roommate! Perfect! We would move in together after the Christmas hols. A friend! Suddenly things were looking up. Remember the old adage: the darkest hour is right before the dawn!