Saved From A Life of Crime
Intermediate Treatment was another social work fashion in the early seventies. It involved getting young offenders into activities and hopefully diverting them from a life of crime.
At this time I had the good fortune to meet a chap with a yacht. It was through a friend who told me one day that through someone at work she had the chance to join a group sailing across to France. Another friend and I were very jealous. As luck would have it various people dropped out and one Friday night we found ourselves on the harbourside at Poole. I was wearing platform soles, one of those biba teeshirts with the voluminous arms and flares. ..what was I thinking. Despite this inauspicious start, we were soon all given oilskins and this was the start of a long friendship. Ken was ex army and he sailed with two mates and none of their wives liked sailing. He was also taking on this trip another Ken and his wife who were planning to buy a similar yacht and sail back to Canada.
It was extremely rough on the way over and Canadian Ken and his wife were so sea sick any thought of sailing back to Canada was quickly knocked on the head. Although I felt sick when I went below deck I was fine sitting on the deck and found the whole thing very exciting. On the way back it was calm and we swam from the boat, were hoisted up the mast on the bosun’s chair which resulted in a blast from a nearby frigate. The loo became blocked and poor Canadian Ken slipped while trying to clear it and broke a rib and so he and his wife, who seemed terrified most of the time, were glad to reach shore. However my two friends and I went back many times.
He was pretty right wing Ken and once wrote me a letter saying he was worried that I was spending my life on the children of the scum of the nation. He told me he had taken a group of lads on probation on his precious yacht and they had spent the time drinking beer and stubbing their cigarettes out on the deck. I said that I was sure younger children would appreciate it more and so he agreed to allow the intermediate group I was running to come for a day’s sail
That day must rank as one of the most exhausting days of my life. We hired a mini bus loaded our 8 or so petty offenders (aged between 10 and thirteen) on board and set off. The first disaster was that we had not checked whether we should put petrol or diesel in the mini bus and got it wrong. This involved a long wait to have the diesel drained meantime the lively bunch of lads got involved in breaking into a nearby orchard and the local panda car appeared and the lads got their first telling off of the day. By the time we arrived in Poole the good ladies of the yacht club had been waiting for hours with an amazing spread for lunch.
‘This is f**king brilliant Miss……..Holy sh*t the kids yelled as they stuffed their faces. Not music to the ears of the club wives, but at least they were made aware of how much it was appreciated. Then we boarded the yacht having rowed out in a rubber dinghy and the excitement of the boys was such by this time I am amazed they did not manage to tip it over. It was a beautiful day and the children absolutely loved the adventure and once Ken got used to the swearing, I could tell he was enjoying himself too. The only near disaster was when three of them climbed back in the dinghy and undid the rope and drifted off — we had to about turn to go and rescue them. The good ladies were there when we got back with more food and we eventually arrived back in London about two in the morning. It was perhaps notable that not one parent was upset we were so late (no mobile phones to warn them) just grateful we had given their boys such a great day.
On another occasion we got free tickets to an ice show. As we went in all the children were given a plastic bag full of goodies. After we sat down I noticed one or two disappearing — they went out and came back in again with another plastic bac. By the time the show started we were a huge sea of white plastic in our little corner.
Many years later one of the helpers on the various activities was walking through the east end of London when he was grabbed from behind and hoisted in the air (he was only about 5 foot tall) They were four strapping lads, now twenty somethings, who turned out to be four of the boys in our group. They were all electricians and had formed their own company. They asked after all of us and said they never forgot the good times they had with us and it was through the group that they all became friends. One said ‘Tell Miss she saved me from a life of crime!’ That was a sweet moment (true or not) when at another reunion this was fed back to me.
