A true story from way back in 1974, when I was 8.

1974 was the year of the hit single ‘Merry Xmas Everyone’ and Abba won the Eurovision song contest. I was 8 years old and you could normally find me dressed in purple crimplene trousers, brown shirt with collars that long that on three occasions during high winds I almost took off on my own airline called ‘shit-my-self-jet’. The shirt always seemed to be offset with an orange and brown multi-coloured, horizontal striped, polyester and wool mix, tank-top. If you have no idea just how bad crimplene trousers were just look at old ladies above the age of eighty, they still lovingly wear them. They are usually a pale blue colour and look like shit, complete with showing just how big their knickers are. Even back in 1974, crimplene trousers were mainly worn by old ladies over the age of eighty. My grandma actually had a pair of these crimplene trousers, exactly matching mine but just much larger. So as you can see I didn’t exactly look cool or rich. I looked like the kid from Kes minus the bird.

So as I was explaining, this was 1974. I’d asked my dad if I could go to the train depot to see all the engines. I had a fascination with these big locomotives after my dad had pretended to throw me under one and then pulled me back by my tank-top at the last minute. I cried all the way home that day. He kept calling me a poof.

We lived about six miles from the train depot. So one morning my dad got the bus with me to the city-centre and walked with me the half mile to the depot. The viewing area was a long way from where the engines were stabled. I could see fuck all. A Hornby 00 gauge train set would be easier to view from the settee.

He left me there and told me to come home when I was finished watching. This would involve the half-mile trek across the city centre to find a bus stop that would take me back to our estate. I felt confident that I could retrace my steps. After all, I was eight years old and four foot fuck all. Not much changed there.

After he had abandoned me, I decided to wander down to the station and get a platform ticket. I got lost walking this 300-yard trip and suddenly didn’t feel as confident about finding the bus stop later. Eventually I stumbled upon this big red building that looked like it could be the place. I entered. They sold platform tickets. They were 2p. I bought one and wandered down to the platform. I could see the trains closer here, this was much better. Ten minutes later I was bored.

Fuck it I thought, lets sneak on a train. I opened a door to a carriage and climbed aboard. The carriages were like the ones you see in old Agatha Christie or Harry Potter movies. A passageway with a door to a cubicle where 6 or 8 people could sit. I was walking along the train when suddenly it started pulling away. I quickly yanked down one of the windows and waved for help, shouting for the train to stop and let me back off. Apparently this type of waving and screaming in a high pitched wail resulted in people waving back and cooing at the little boy obviously excited about his journey, the log of fear that was quickly turtle heading from my arse was obviously of no concern to them. I could have had a rapist taking me from behind and I am sure people would have just carried on smiling and waving back. One bloke even gave me a double thumbs up. I pulled the window back up and went to shit in a cubbyhole sized toilet that was even small to me.

I decided to make the most of this journey and enjoy myself. I went for a wander and came to a cubicle halfway down coach C. The blinds were down. I peeked through before I entered and was glad I had. A lady was licking this mans Willy like I licked a Lyons Maid ‘Fab’ lolly. I was not entirely sure why she was cleaning it but it was getting bigger whereas my lolly used to get smaller with each lick. He must need a piss I thought. I remembered this happened to me in the morning when I first woke up, and was desperate for the loo. Then suddenly she got up and turned away from him. I saw this incredibly hairy thing between her legs, she appeared to possess no Willy. Suddenly I understood about boys and girls. He then started stabbing her with his Willy. I was horrified until I heard and saw that she was asking him to stab her faster. Suddenly, she turned her head and she was looking at me. Her eyes were focused directly at mine and must have seen my eye in the crack. The crack between the blind and doorframe, before you ask.

She shrieked and jumped up, pulling her pink pants protectively over her outback region, pointing at my eye.

The guy turned towards me. I ran like fuck. There was no way I wanted stabbing. No thank-you. I ran to coach D and sat quietly in a corner. Other than the previous incident it was a great journey. I had to hide in the toilets a few times and keep a close eye out for the ticket collector. Eventually I decided I would get off at the next large station that the train stopped at. Soon after it halted at a suitably large station and I jumped off.

I was eight, four foot one and I was in Crewe. About sixty-four miles I had travelled. I could have been around the corner for all I knew.

I thought that I should really try and find a train back to Leicester as soon as possible; instead I decided to go for a walk around the town. It seemed pretty similar to my own town other than people were talking strange. Eventually I realised that I was completely lost. I came to a co-op that I recognised because we had one near where I lived and asked for directions to the station. The lady drew me a picture, which helped, in no way at all as ten minutes later I was back at the co-op. I tried the other road and eventually turned a corner and saw the station looming up in front of me. I casually wandered back onto the platform trying to look like I did this for a living.

I remember being fascinated by the electric wires and how quiet so many of the trains were. I hadn’t known before then that some trains ran via electricity. I asked the man on the platform which train would take me back to Leicester. He showed me where to wait. A couple of hours later I was back in Leicester and walking through the town towards the bus stop. I didn’t get lost once in Leicester. I was getting rather good at this getting around lark. I got the bus and went home. Tired, but having enjoyed a great day out. Could you imagine in this modern world, an eight-year-old child travelling sixty-four miles on a train, and then walking around a strange town, then asking for directions and then travelling back? Then walking through another city and getting a bus home. Not one person looked at me twice. Not one person asked me where my parents were.

It certainly was a different world in 1974.