Fast forward to 1982. I was now married with 2 children, a degree in Mechanical Engineering and had represented Eastern Counties at rugby union. The pigeons were kept at my parents house, with my younger brother taking an interest in them. With the purchase of our first house, I informed Josie (my wife) that I could now start racing my pigeons from our own home. “What pigeons?” was her reply. She honestly thought that the pigeons at my parents house were my brothers! Josie has always stood by with whatever decision I have made whether it was my career or financial. A loft was duly erected and about 20 young birds were bred or gifted by local fanciers. I joined the local club “The Fanshawe” (famous for The Dagenham Girl Pipers). A timing was purchased on H.P. and my first proper race was rapidly approaching.

Peterborough was the racepoint and I entered about 10 of my 20 – a distance of about 72 miles. Your loft or shed was pricked on an ordenence survey map ( no google maps in those days) and the distance from the racepoint to loft was calculated. Raceday came. No birds into London before 1 o’clock as most people worked Saturday mornings. 2 birds came back together. The rubber was taken off their leg and put into the clock. Handle turned and the time recorded. Then the long wait for the others. The reading of the clocks was a nervous time. No WhatsApp, Facebook etc. so no one knew each others time. It was silent whilst clocks were read with other fanciers trying to listen to the times frantically calculating in their heads if they had been beaten. We finished 3rd and 6th from over 200 pigeons.There was also a 2 bird nomination for which I was 1st and 2nd. Loads of well done and congratulations.

A few pints later as I walked home I whacked my new clock on a gatepost cracking the glass. So what I won I quickly spent buying a new glass for my clock!

Till next time