One night, we were messing about on Belly fields, my friend Mark and me. We were going up and down this hill as we were in electric wheelchairs. This was because, surprise, surprise, we were bored. We were really enjoying ourselves just going up the hill and coming back down on two front wheels. (daring or what, Eddie Kidd eat your heart out) We had been for a ride before that, but to nowhere in particular. It was dark and way past our bedtime. Suddenly we saw this man standing on the bridge. He was an old man. He decided to come down, so Mark and I thought we had better move on. Not that we were frightened you understand. We decide to go on the makeshift foot path. As we went along we noticed that this man was beginning to follow us. So we put our foot down, and turned the speed up. He was still coming along behind us, there was nobody about. I got a little bit stuck (didn't that happen in another story to me.) Mark went past me, and I got going again. I began to shout, "Mark, Mark, don't leave me, don't leave me." (good piece of drama, don't you think) I looked behind me again, and the old man was getting nearer. I thought he was drunk as he was staggering about all over the place. With that my wheelchair went crash, boom, wallop. I went aargh, and thought, "what am I going to do now?" "Mark, Mark, come back, come back," I yelled. But he wouldn't. I thought, "you silly sausage, fancy leaving me on my own." Okay, Okay I shall tell the truth, I thought, "you F****** Bastard, fancy leaving me in the lurch."

I looked behind me, he was getting nearer and nearer. I was trying to get out of the hole I was stuck in. I finally got out. (phew) Mark was quite far ahead by now. (helpful eh) We had got away from the footpath by now, and were in a close with houses around, but just our luck it was a dead end. I blamed Mark for this of course. The man was still following us. With that, a man came out of one of the houses. "Are you okay? " he asked. Mark said, "can you wait there, because that man is following us?" Suddenly the old man piped up with, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, I only wanted to talk to you." We realised at this point that he was very drunk. We also discovered, through talking to him that he was very lonely. I've got to admit I felt sorry for him. (yes me) He said that nobody ever went to see him, and he just wanted to talk to us. He asked Mark and I if we would go to his house one day. But we never did. I often wondered what happened to him.

This Story is in memory of Mark Williamson. Died 1994

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