Lets have a couple of caretaking tales, because you must remember that I now had two full time jobs, my wife still worked as well.
Around 1995, we had a batch of new caretakers start, one was black, one was Asian, one was physically disabled, one was stone deaf with a little dog that jumped up and down when the doorbell rang and one was a woman. Nothing wrong with any of that as long as people are employed because they are the best candidate for the job, but not as in LBHF case, to fill their political pigeon holes, if they had employed a one armed Irish lesbian banjo player I would not have been shocked. The woman they employed was to become my new partner (workwise) Roberta (Bobby) Turner, Bobby was a lovely girl who in all honesty was good at her job, and on many occasions covered for me whilst I was here there and everywhere doing little security jobs.
One day we were out at work when somebody told us they had not seen a neighbour for a good few days, so off we trotted to find them, the obvious place to look is at there home address, I opened the letterbox to shout through and it became very obvious by the terrible smell that the chap had died, Bobby started to put her shoulder into the door to get in but as big as she was she simply bounced off, so I told her to mind out of the way and put my size 10 boot through the lock and the door flew backwards, at that moment Bobby brushed me aside and rushed in ahead of me, I was really shouting at her not to touch the old boy, now I dont know if you the reader are aware, if someone has been laying dead for a few days, their body fills with gasses and the skin thins, and if you touch them in the wrong place, they will explode, and frankly I did not fancy the geezer exploding all over us. I once found a guy who had died in front of his gas fire that was on, he basically welded himself to the floor. Anyway that's enough humour for now.
On the evening of the August bank holiday, I was indoors with Mandy and my Mum and Dad, we were just chatting and having a drink, there was an awful lot of noise and commotion outside so I went to take a look. I lived on the third floor and as I looked over the balcony I saw my next door neighbour John and another guy in the block Steve, rolling around on a grassed area having a right old tear up. I decided enough was enough and made my way downstairs, I heard my Mum shout to "watch out, he has a knife", sure enough when I got there John did have a knife and was indeed stabbing Steve with it, what I did next I really can not explain why I did it, I wrapped my hand around the blade and twisted it in Johns hand, I told him to let the knife go or I would snap his arm into two pieces, I stood on his arm and I think he realised that I meant it because he let go and jumped up and ran away. Steve limped over to a wall and laid on it, I placed the knife into a large dustbin for safety, I went to offer Steve some help and he bluntly refused, he was a strange chap anyway but did not deserve to be stabbed, it was then that a policeman came hurtling towards me waving a large baton and shouting at me, I put my hands straight up in the air and surrended, I told him that I was the caretaker and if he waited a few minutes he would find a large knife in the bin, I could not afford for him to do it straight off as other people were now watching, and to some helping the police is not allowed. The next day I went to the local police station and gave them a written statement, I asked if they had got John but he was still missing, they were not unduly worried by this and said he will turn up. Unbelievably, the following Sunday, there was a loud banging on my door, I rushed out to confront whoever was there, I could not believe my eyes, about fifteen armed police officers rushed into my passageway, helicopters overhead, a police woman asked me where he was, " What the fuck are you talking about luv" says I, she replied John, your neighbour, I shouted at them to search the premises and not to forget the back balcony and to make sure they checked under the bed, Mandy was terrified and quite rightly so. It turned out that Steve, yes the guy whos life I had saved, had reported seeing John enter my flat, well as you can imagine I was a tad pissed off, I went to the station to complain but was fobbed off. I attended Southwark Crown Court as a witness everyday for four months and frankly I was pleased that John got found not guilty through some smart lawyer suggesting that he was the agrieved, British Justice at its lowest if you ask me.
