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Chapter One
Cheap Skates

Empty Council houses in Canby could remain empty for months! A particular house on Oak Avenue was no exception, but this one was going to be slightly different. Some would yield all sorts of objects and sundry, whilst others - nothing. The types of houses that used to be occasionally worked in were empty, in the true sense of the word, whereas, this one on Oak Avenue would be for big Wilf and young Gary, alias The Terrible Two, a source of pleasure and heartache.

Money at Canby Council was in short supply and men who worked there had to make the most of what was offered to them in their paltry wage packets. Most would lay down and accept this situation, whereas others would do whatever they could, to grab whatever they could - by fair means or foul!

It was May 1967, and two of the Council\"s three resident plumbers and their apprentice had just arrived back upstairs, after acquiring their undernourished wage packets for the week. The reason for going back upstairs to the plumber\"s shop was to count their hard-earned brass and make doubly sure that they weren\"t being diddled. This checking was also a good excuse to waste time; as much time as possible.

Now, Wilf Chapman (twenty five stones, cockney, cheeky and dishonest) and Gary Turner (thick as two short planks and as bright as a two watt bulb) had already got their afternoon planned, and they were in deep conversation about something and nothing, but Frank Hall (sixty year old charge hand, argumentative, with a cap) had other ideas!

Gary was still smarting about being made fun of after he\"d told others of his recent bad dream. Being attacked by a ferocious sausage-dog and waking up screaming was asking for skitting of the highest order, but he\"d slowly changed the subject round to something else. \"Them new socks that I bought off Teabags, keep making all me feet black,\" he said simply to his Uncle Wilf.

Wilf showed little concern as he sat luxuriously in front of their gas cooker warming his back on the ever-lit single jet. \"Blimey,\" he said lazily but with a typical reply. \"All your feet? Just how many have ya got then?\"

\"About six pairs.\"

\"Sounds like a circus job to me, Gazz.\"

\"No no, a mean six pairs o\" socks.\"

Wilf smiled. \"Well, that\"s what ya get for buying rubbish off him, ain\"t it.\"

Gary pointed to his uncle\"s dodgy watch. \"You\"ve got room to talk. What about that then. Loses three hours a day, dunt it?\"

\"Oy you two!\" called Frank from the other end of the room. \"Haven\"t yer got owt better to do?\"

Wilf turned his head: \"Nope,\" he grinned waving his thin wage packet. \"Although we have got our wages to check, look.\"

Frank didn\"t really approve of spending unnecessary time counting money over and over again. \"All there, is it?\" he said.

\"Yeah, which is more than can be said of my oppo here.\" Wilf smiled nicely at Gary.

Frank tutted. \"What would yer do if there were too much?\"

\"Keep it, obviously.\"

\"Aye, knowin\" you, yer probably would. And a penny short, yer\"d be across to that Town Hall like a shot.\"

\"Certainly.\"

\"Every Friday yer bugger off to t\" Star Inn.\"

\"Got to, haven\"t we, Gazz?\" said Wilf as he checked his wage - again. \"A pint down our “gregorysâ€

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