Three Lives

It began in 1953, called up for National Service and choosing the Navy, I was offered Russian spy or seaman and chose the latter: father was displeased. A police ex- cadet joined the ship and proved my inspiration. After swabbing decks, I found myself directing traffic at Oxford Circus and an arresting figure in a very wicked Soho. In promotion class, the Commandant decided to pick on me. I retaliated by calling him a f...ing old bastard.
At police college, given the chance of a university place, selected the LSE. At a prisoners' visit for Criminology I was about to get thumped when: " You charged me once... You was a f...ing gent guv'nor." Discussion resumed. Whew!
My former police chief retired, became a lawyer and in court was mightily impressive. Inspired again, meant more study but ended in wig, gown and a criminal practice. Memories included, "Get me locked up, Mr Forward, I'm dangerous." "Thanks, (and a handshake) for the way you prosecuted me," when convicted of baggage-handling. Druid chiefs and a Wizard...a roulette table in court...lastly, struck in the face in my client's cell by his psychiatric report!
Was my decision in 1953 right? A matter for the jury.