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    The Byker Lion Roars Again
    The Byker Lion Roars Again
    The Byker Lion Roars Again
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    The Byker Lion Roars Again

    By Mark James

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    About this ebook

    This manuscript is a collection of short stories based on actual events and memories sprinkled with a few spirited yarns and traditional good old-fashioned Geordie humour.


    I would flex my muscles and dream of a physique sculptured out of solid bronze. Mark James, the Byker Lion

    Bespoke bronze sculpture commissioned and produced by Ron Moll, 11 Aug 2009, my seventieth year.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse UK
    Release dateOct 22, 2015
    ISBN9781504993012
    The Byker Lion Roars Again
    Author

    Mark James

    Mark James is a former soldier who worked in the British and New Zealand armies before becoming an intensive care nurse. Mark lives in Wigan with his wife and children and loves reading, writing and listening to music. Freddie and the Magic Heart is Mark's first book, and was inspired by his passion for organ donation and the difference it can make to so many people's lives. When Mark grows up he wants to be Dr Seuss, Julia Donaldson or own a record shop.

    Read more from Mark James

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      Book preview

      The Byker Lion Roars Again - Mark James

      AuthorHouse™ UK

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403  USA

      www.authorhouse.co.uk

      Phone: 0800.197.4150

      © 2015 Mark James. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse  10/15/2015

      ISBN: 978-1-5049-9299-2 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-5049-9300-5 (hc)

      ISBN: 978-1-5049-9301-2 (e)

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Contents

      Preface

      Acknowledgements

      Boots

      Spuggy’s Flight

      The Byker Lion Roars Again

      Me Bogie

      And the Blossom Fell

      About the Author

      About the Book

      I would like to dedicate this book to a ray of sunshine: my youngest granddaughter, Evie Dielehner, for giving me a new lease of life.

      Preface

      I don’t even pretend to be a writer. I am rather limited when it comes to words. I write similar to the way I talk—and that’s broad Geordie. ¹ I guess I’ll never change, but it’s how the book was done.

      The original Byker Lion was the title of a little book of short stories. I wrote this whilst attending Heaton Adult Education Centre, and it was sold with all proceeds going to the children’s heart unit charity at the Freeman Hospital, Newcastle Upon Tyne.

      Several of the short stories were broadcast on the local radio station, Radio Newcastle.

      Me Bogie won the first Sid Chaplin Short Story Competition in 1988. This story was also adapted for a stage performance by a local youth acting group.

      The second book, The Byker Lion, was published in 2010. A number of the stories had an adult theme, so I decided to rewrite a few suitable for children’s perusal. As a result, The Byker Lion Roars Again was produced. The stories are generally based on actual events; however, I hope they make for an amusing read.

      I feel privileged to have been born and raised in my area and era. We learnt at an early age to laugh at life and everything it brought us.

      I can truthfully say that if I had my life to live over again … I would not change a single thing. I consider myself a very lucky man and would not wish to be anyone else.

      Well – not now I wouldn’t.

      Acknowledgements

      I would like to thank Heaton Adult Education Centre for all their encouragement and for giving me a second chance. They showed me the way.

      Thanks to my son, Shaun, for all his hard work, endless encouragement, and support.

      Thank you, wor² lass Anthea, just for being there and putting up with me.

      Finally, I would like to thank the man himself: the Russian Lion, the late, great wrestler George Hackenschmidt, and his book The Way to Live.

      Image%20No1-Boots.jpg

      Boots

      Boots

      Y ears ago, a pawn shop stood on the corner of Grace Street in Byker. It did a roaring trade – if you could call it a trade. To me it was daylight robbery.

      I can still see the despair and guilt on the faces of the poor souls on entering the depressing place … carrying their possessions wrapped in brown paper tucked tightly to their bodies.

      Coming out of the shop they looked older and wiser, unlikely ever to see their bits and pieces again.

      I can still remember one Friday afternoon. It was definitely a Friday because my mother had some money in her purse.

      I was dragged down to the pawn shop under protest. It was the beginning of winter and time for a change of footwear.

      I hated the smell of the place. The musty old clothes hanging in rows, each with the stale smell of their previous owners.

      There was also the smell of old shoe leather and moth balls.

      If death had a smell – and I’ve heard that it has – I would imagine this came close.

      The whole place had an atmosphere that gave me the creeps; it was like walking into a morgue.

      Behind the counter heaped with bric-a-brac stood a vulture of a man with a hump on his back. Rumour was it was not a hump at all but a hiding place for his money.

      His eyes never missed a thing.

      He fixed me with an intense stare that made me nervous.

      Thank goodness I was with my mam.

      She slammed the counter with her clenched fist. Boots for the lad! she bellowed. And mind I’ll not be robbed.

      Everyone who entered his lair was a victim one way or another.

      It was really a necessity. As they say, Beggars can’t be choosers.

      Image%20No2-Boots.jpg

      That’s more degrading than trying on dead men’s boots in front of Ma.

      He led us into a dark and dusty corner, pointing to a pile of old and various types of boots like a medieval jailer would do to a prisoner about to be tortured.

      I tried to take a positive approach. I was always brave when me ma was with me. I stepped forward to attack the pile of boots, and just then a spider the size of a cat scurried for cover.

      The automatic response of being terrified was to wet my pants. There really is nothing more embarrassing or degrading than wetting your pants in public.

      Unless it’s trying on dead men’s

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