A brief break in my old haunts then home again, home again, jiggity jig

After the tour it was a change to have a good Sunday roast with my parents and a very comfortable bed to sleep in that night, but no rest for the wicked, as they say, not that I consider myself wicked of course.

Bright and early Monday morning, well not long after 9am, I went into Rhyl to find the Labour Exchange or Jobcentre, or whatever they called it in those days. It was the first time in 10 years of working that I had actually been unemployed.

Although I would be going back to Basildon I wasn’t ready to go back to journalism. If I had contacted either of my North Wales editors, Peter Leaney or Brian Barratt, I am sure there would have been a job for me.

The same applied to Tony Blandford, if they were recruiting for the Basildon Standard Recorder I felt sure he would have taken me back.

That was not my plan, however. Maybe I would return to the fold in my own good time but at that moment the world of newspapers was still on the back burner, and the flame was turned to simmer.

When I filled in all the forms they only needed my last job and reason for leaving it. That was no problem because Harry had said if I needed a reference he would give me a glowing one.

Again, when asked for what sort of work I was seeking I simply said theatrical with the stress on technical rather than acting. I still had the possibility of contacting the company which had a number of rep companies out on tour.

Having signed on I had a good look around the town which had been my home for so many years. Although it wasn’t even three years since I left I could see the changes and for the first time I no longer felt that this was my home. That is not to disparage Rhyl, which will always have a place in my heart, but I had spread my wings and felt there were still places to find.

Over the next few days I visited family and friends and took in more of the wider area around my parents new home in Dyserth, as well as heading for some of my old haunts with my good friend Roger and downing a pint or seven.

By the end of the week I had had enough of my old stamping ground and was intent on heading down to Basildon where I knew a warm welcome awaited me, not just with My Muse but from two little girls as well.

Our correspondence had been wonderful, as I have said previously it was like an old-fashioned courtship with a couple of visits along the way.

I had checked with the garage in Colchester and arranged to pick my car up on the Friday afternoon. I would then drive down to Basildon and be able to join my three lovely girls once more.

Published by Robin

I'm a retired journalist who still has stories to tell. This seems to be a good place to tell them.

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