Between the Sheets; a gambling tale.

Now here's a little tale for you; and it's true. A tale is usually a tale, which means it's not true and I sometimes have to think whether it's tale or tail but when I see tail I know which one it is.

Some time ago when I had only been acting for about three years, this was after a year of night school and three years full time at drama school, although most of the rest of them called it college – in fact that college is now a university, or UNI, as they call it.

We were living in Northampton; we moved there, or relocated, as they say, because we could afford to buy a house there and it was about one hour from London by train or car.

Near to Christmas I got a job in a TV series called Hunter's Walk which was shot at Elstree Studios, less than an hour from our house.

The series was set in Northampton and that may be why I got the job as they guessed I might be able to do the accent. The people from London usually think that the Northampton accent was the same as Birmingham and the Birmingham people hear it as a London accent.

The fact is the director didn't know where I lived and when I met him I was up for the leading guest role – if there is such a thing. In America it would be called guest star. When I walked in to the waiting room one of the other actors, who was up for the same role, told me that he knew the director. He was touching wood with his hand and saying 'I know him – I know him' and crossing his fingers and when he went in he said 'wish me luck!'

Well what do you know – what about my luck?

I went in and we got on okay; I read for the role in my cod Northampton accent and the director seemed very pleased and was telling me how much he liked my portrayal, now ordinarily I would take this as a lot of encouragement but then I remembered the words 'I know him – I know him' so I didn't quite believe him.

'I think you did very well with that' he said 'you could easily play it' then the kicker came in – 'there are a few other roles to cast, as this character has some pals if . . .' and I knew what was coming ' . . . if you don't get this role would you be interested in one of the other parts – he has three pals.'

'Yes' I said and when I left the room he said 'see you in rehearsals.'

And that's how it turned out.

I didn't know the other actor but he was well known and I've seen him on TV and in movies and I think he went into one of the soaps.

There was a very well known Irish singer, exceptionally popular in Britain, with hit records, his own television show called Val Doonican. On the first day I arrived in reception at Elstree he was talking to a receptionist and I walked straight up to him, shook his hand warmly and said 'hey Barry – what are you doing here?' he looked totally confused. 'Barry' I said, then I realised who it was; Val bloody Doonican.

I made my apologies and slinked off. Every time I went in the bar after that, and he was there, he would say 'hello Barry' and laugh.

It was a fine friendly job and I was in a few scenes, too long ago to remember exactly, but we had to go to Wellingborough, which is in Northamptonshire and come out of a pub, drunk, get in to a taxi after making a load of noise and banter and then after that back to rehearsals in Elstree.

I can't remember how long I worked there but it was a few weeks and when we finished it would be Christmas. Seems easy, up to Christmas, a nice load of money from the job but . . . . it usually takes a few weeks to get paid by the time they have sorted everything out; we didn't get wages we got a fee. Bit like an attorney or some other professional but to me I had to try and make sure I could pay for Christmas. Three kids and Santa to think about, in laws or parents and all that food booze and presents to buy but I reckon I had it sorted.

I know what you are thinking; this piece is called 'Between the Sheets; a Gambling Tale' and you are thinking what's that got to do with what I have been reading.

But relax dear reader as I think it comes now.

There is a card game called Between the Sheets. So you see it is nothing to do with romping rattling.

In the card game two cards are dealt to each player around the table. Everyone can see your cards as they are dealt face up.

So let us say you are dealt a four and a nine. The dealer now asks you if you would like to bet and how much are you wagering. The idea is to get the next card between those two numbers. You had a choice of (something like) 50 pence, one pound or the lot. If your card is now five, six, seven or eight, you are between the sheets. You get a pound back if you wager 50 pence, two pounds if you have bet one pound and if you have bet the lot you get all the money from the kitty in the middle of the table.

If your card is not between the sheets you have to throw your fifty pence, your pound or – and this is the interesting bit – you have to put whatever is in the kitty which is in the middle of the table.

The games last a long time as people go for the lot sometimes and clear all the money away. Sometimes people take their two pounds and they are quite satisfied with that especially when the money in the kitty has really piled up.

Oh? Something very important. An ace counts as a one or eleven – like in pontoon or black jack. If your two cards are both aces, one can count as an eleven and the other as one so if that happens you go for the lot as there is very little chance of you failing unless you draw one of the two aces left in the pack.

If you do that, and have three aces, you have to double what is in the kitty and if the game has been going for a long time there is a load of money on that table.

We had a few games, in the bar/canteen during breaks but the last time I played it, the game had been going for a long time. Some of the regular members of the cast had gathered round, people came over from the bar – not Val – and one of the clever clogs regular members of the cast said 'It's simple. All you have to do it go for the lot every time.'

Well we all heard him and as the cards went around we would win some, the odd two pounds, the odd one pound than I was dealt two aces. I didn't have a lot of cash with me, it was in the days before the ATMs but the cards were there like Steve McQueen in the Cincinnati Kid; two aces. I looked around and no one had been dealt another ace which meant there were two others in the pack and if one came to me, and I bet the lot I would have had to cover that huge pot, in fact double the whole amount.

I had to think about it. I could have bet the maximum, get two pounds but I knew I needed to take a chance. I had heard what clever clogs has said 'It's simple. All you have to do it go for the lot every time.'

But I didn't have any money – what I did have was a cheque book and with it a cheque guarantee card, which are extinct now. So I took my cheque book out, my card and said 'okay if I lose I'll settle with this.

The dealer said 'what do you want to do?'

Three kids and Santa to think about, in laws or parents and all that food booze and presents to buy and I reckoned I had it sorted but would I have it sorted if the wrong card came up?

'Deal' I said.

He dealt the card and I won – don't ask me to tell you what card it was, all I know is that it wasn't an ace.

We all shook hands and off I went in my Hillman Minx up the M1 to Northampton and Christmas.

This is a good gambling story – a bad one would be to try and do it again but there we go.

Moseley Road Swimming Baths revisited.

I wrote this particular post on March 31st 2010 and someone wrote some very kind words about it the other day so I took a look at the post and as it interested me I thought it might interest you.

I am continually surprised just how far in to the future these posts go.

I passed Moseley Road Swimming Baths last year as I was in Birmingham, for a funeral, and the building is still there.

Here is the post warts and all:

There was something that happened at Moseley Road Swimming Baths when I was about eight years old which, I suppose, I will remember for the rest of my life.

It is as clear to me today as when it happened all those many years ago; sounds like ‘Rebecca’ by Daphne du Maurier doesn’t it but let’s proceed.

Someone posted some photos on the Internet from a book about Balsall Heath and Highgate; both neighbourhoods of Birmingham, UK.

I bought the book they were in from Amazon; Amazon.co.uk, that is, and there was a photo in it of Moseley Road Swimming Baths; it looked exactly as I remember with dressing rooms surrounding the pool.

So before telling you this little story I looked up to see if the place is still there and in fact the building is being rescued by the Birmingham City Council.

Moseley Road Swimming Baths sounds a strange title and of course there is no such thing; the correct expression would be Moseley Road Baths and if you look above you will see the massive Edwardian Building that is situated on Moseley Road, Birmingham; looking at it from this perspective it looks like some Russian Government Building which I suppose a lot of Edwardian buildings in the UK look like.

For instance a very good film about Guy Burgess, the spy, called An Englishman Abroad was filmed in Dundee for Moscow.

But back to the baths; the building was built in 1907 about ten years or so after the Public Library, which is a similar looking building, next door.

At the front of the building there are three entrances: one for the first class facilities for men, another for second class facilities for men again and the third was the women’s entrance for all classes.

England was more obsessed with the class system back then than it is these days.

The first class facilities included a slipper bath and a swimming Pool; next to the pool there were cubicles for the men to change and the baths would supply swimming trunks and a towel; a slipper bath, by the way, was a hot bath and the bathtub, itself, was called a slipper bath because when it was upside down it looked like the underside of a slipper.

The second class men’s facilities included a slipper bath and a swimming pool but the pool didn’t have changing cubicles; the men had to change from a bench on the side and the water that was used in the first class pool was decanted into the second class pool every week; now there’s a thought!

The women’s facility was just a facility – the slipper bath.

The place has closed down now but in its latter days the homeless and the elderly would go there for a bath; the elderly because it was a safe place to take a bath and the homeless for obvious reasons.

When I started to go there to swim there was only one pool being used; the first class one and you can see a picture of it below.

I attended Clifton Road Junior School and when I was around eight years old we would go once a week to baths for swimming lessons; I used to love to go in those days although I was never any good at swimming and spent most of my time in the shallow end which was around three feet deep; the middle of the pool was five feet and the deep end with the diving boards was six feet three inches.

Freddie Bishop, a friend of mine, never came swimming and no matter how hard I tried he would refuse.

His excuse was that he had no swimming trunks and I told him that he could get a slip; a slip is all it was as it was just a piece of thin cloth you tied around you with a piece of string that was attached; it looked a bit like a baby's bib; unlike the swimming trunks of the old days of first class service.

We would walk from Clifton Road School, up Clifton Road itself and onto Moseley Road and to the swimming baths which were situated on the west side of the street; so it took a lot of supervision by the teachers getting us across busy streets and the walk must have been about fifteen minutes or so.

After our swim I think we were allowed to buy Wagon Wheels or other pieces of chocolate of the day.

After a lot of nagging from me Freddie Bishop finally decided to come one of the weeks and off we trotted on our usual route; I was delighted that my friend was coming.

When we got there I shared the dressing room with Fred; the cubicles went the length of the pool with the boys changing rooms on the left and the girls on the right, in the picture.

Our cubicle was by the deep end and I quickly got changed and ran to the shallow end to join everybody else; we would start with the same exercises every week which consisted of holding on to the bar, which encircled the pool, and kicking our legs out at the back to simulate swimming; we did this for quite some time and soon everybody was in the pool; except Freddie.

So I got out of the pool and went to the dressing room to sort him out.

He still had his socks on, when I got there, but couldn't sort out the slip. I think he couldn’t undo the previous knots, or something, and after I tried to help him for a while I left and went back to the pool.

The teacher looked at me and wondered where I had been but I just got back into the water and continued splashing.

A few minutes later I saw him leave the dressing room and jump into the deep end; he had his hands in a kind of dive position with his palms flat and as he hit the water they caused an enormous splash; I wondered what was going on and when I didn't see him come up I shouted to the teacher “Freddie Bishop has jumped in the deep end.”

“Don't be silly” the teacher said and started to supervise some children at the other end of the line telling them to kick harder.

I looked back up to the deep end and saw his head bob up and then disappear again.

“Look sir! Look!” I shouted.

The teacher looked up as Freddie’s head came up again – then disappeared.

We were ordered out of the pool and the teacher ran towards the deep end; we kind of wandered up there too.

Thinking back I can't understand why the teacher or a member of the baths staff didn't just get in and pull him out; Freddie kept coming to the surface and then he would go back down and it was obvious to us, even then, that he was drowning – but nobody got in.

A grown up found a big hook on the side and tried to hook him but he went back down again under the six feet of water; the next time he came up he reached with his hand outstretched; thinking back now he might have seen the hook but all I saw at the time was his hand and then we saw it go down to the depths of the deep end again and I thought it was for the last time as there was a look of finality about it – then we were kind of shooed away.

They did get him out but I never saw it happen.

I got back to the cubicle and his clothes lay there; I kind of thought it was my fault for persuading him to come swimming when he could have been back in the safe warm school.

When we were dressed and ready to go back to school I saw Freddie sitting behind a desk near the slipper baths entrance with towels and blankets wrapped around him; he was breathing very deeply and I could see his very frightened brown eyes staring ahead like a wounded fawn that had been rescued.