Routine , everyday of my life and everyone else’s was governed by routine from school to work , the years being coupled to educational and industrial coordination , clock in , clock out and then it stopped and I woke up .
My body clock was still in tune to the GEC the engineering institution I had just left , I was now uncoupled to the regime of the clock but nobody told my brain and it was 7.00 am and I forgot , I was just about to leave my bed and I remembered I had no job , it hit me like a sledge hammer , it was like staring into the void , I turned the tv on , a talking puppet rat , I felt like I had made a disastrous decision .
It took just a few days to adapt to a new way of life , I had drugs to smoke and Natty for company , the government provided a home and money . The road and lawns were installed and the street began to be populated .
An old couple lived one side and Kung Fu Clive the other , further up the street were the Numanoids , two guys dressed like Gary Numan who would be sitting in their house when I used to go to work at 7.15 playing with a fishing rod , one of surreal moments that used to cheer me up.
We didn’t know it at the time but Kung Fu Clive was one of the most dangerous people in town , he was a good looking guy , Rowley Ford said he looked like Cheyenne Brody a character from an old 1950’s western .
I only found out who he was from one of the walking corpse town junkies , he was a psycho , damaged and unpredictable , capable of killing a person with his bare hands . I knew him from the factory , any interaction with him was weird , I was surprised he had a job , anyway he got dumped in Brownsover where he continued his downward spiral into insanity .
We were told not to approach him when he wore a red head band , black was ok but red was a warning sign , Clive caused us no problems which was just as well because Rowley Ford also told me he had murdered someone .
Clive got his name after he attempted to kick a moving train off the tracks , the train hit him at some speed and injured his leg , Clive was fined for being on the tracks , it was downhill all the way from there , a psychotic man trained in martial arts with LSD psychosis !
Clive was no problem I think he liked us and recognised we had our own weirdness going on , it was towards the end of our tenancy when I knew Clive was seriously mentally ill , I though he had a guest so I eavesdropped on the conversation through the wall .
Clive was on a rant ‘I am God , I have walked through hell fire …’ another voice calm and serene ‘No Clive you are not God..’ it went on , I never saw his guest enter or leave it was quite confusing until someone told me it was Clive , his personality split into two .
We made it through the summer , Pete Kember had an idea to grow weed , we had a decent sized plant on the back door step which eventually we planted out in the wilds never to be seen again . We jammed , we listened to music , we now lived in Planet 13 funded by the government and life was at times kind of nice but Brownsover was still Brownsover a bleak ,tatty unlikable zone populated by social misfits and the unfortunate , we may have been social misfits but we decided to make our escape while we could.
It was a simple process , we just swopped our house for an older ,bigger house in Hillmorton , The Custard Cave evolved into Planet 13 , drugs , people , it all became a little darker and dangerous , to stay one step ahead we moved on , our one regret was leaving behind Clive by now he was hanging on by a thread , we perhaps gave him some security , he could hear everything through his walls , our weird sounds , our life , I believe we were an anchor for him and when we left he sunk further into the depths of madness .