Gordy Nodrog & the Glockenspiel Rainbow

CHAPTER 1 

Chocolate Biscuits and

Morning Tea

It was the wonderful year of 1971 and the school holidays had begun in a little village called Felling, scorching weather had been forecast for that summer. A young boy wearing a T-shirt and shorts was sitting on his front door step. He was gazing intensely at what appeared to be a white ray of light coming from his left hand. Suddenly a puff of smoke came from a piece of paper on the ground where the shaft of light had been transfixed to. The beam was from a small black handled magnifying glass that his mum had bought him that very morning. His name was Deano and he lived in Wisdom Street, a row of terraced houses built before the war that were heated by coal fires, outside in the yards were the coal bunkers. These had little wooden hatches leading to the cobbled back lanes for the coal men to pour their black stuff through. Beside the coal bunkers were the toilets that were ghastly to use especially during the night and worse still in the wintertime. The residents of the street were a very close knit community.

Deano was part of a gang, well not really a gang but more like a group of friends that lived in the street that played together every day. There were nine members in the so called gang. Gordy and Paul Nodrog were members; the brothers were inseparable, even with a five year age gap. Gordy the elder brother had blonde untamed and frizzy hair, when Gordy wasn’t playing outside with his friends, he loved to draw and paint, while stuffing his face with his favourite sweets, marzipan covered in dark chocolate and sherbet filled flying saucers. Thankfully not at the same time, as that would have been a strange concoction. Gordy was looking forward to being a teenager the following year. He and his brother lived at number ten, an upstairs flat with their mum, dad and elder sister Ann. Their dad Mr Nodrog worked nightshifts and long hours for a nasty rubber tyre manufacturing company.

Last Christmas, Mr Nodrog had taken Gordy to the work’s party for the employee’s children, it was held in the staff canteen. Mr Nodrog gave Gordy a tour of the factory where the big machines were kept. The factory lay silent that day, only the strong smell of melted rubber lingered in the air, hitting Gordy’s nostrils which swiftly made him imagine how the mighty monsters would sound grinding and hissing when churning out thousands of tyres. Mr Nodrog looked down at Gordy and whispered to him.

When you grow up son, make sure you get an excellent education, good job and promise me that you will never ever work in a factory.

Gordy did not forget the images he had seen and what his dad had asked of him.

When Gordy’s dad came home in the morning after doing a nightshift he would be covered from head to toe in black grime, but he always had a smile on his face when he walked through the front door, knowing he was back home to his loving family. When he approached the breakfast table he would put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out chocolate biscuits that he had purchased from the newsagents on his way home for the children to have with their morning tea.

Two other members of the gang were the twins Marvin and Leon. They lived at number thirteen, which was half way up the street. Marvin and Leon were always getting into fights; most of the time amongst themselves. They were considered the brawns of the gang by their mates. The twins’ dad, Stan, was a huge cockney bloke who had moved temporarily to the North East from London when he was a young man to find a job as a security guard, but he decided to stay in the North, as he fell in love with the area and the people. Stan was iron-willed and had been an amateur boxer in his younger years. He named his sons after two of his favourite boxers; he taught Leon and Marvin how to defend themselves and how to box fair and square, especially in the ring. Stan was really a gentle giant, but he would still wallop the twins if they were ever in trouble or didn’t do as they were told, Leon and Marvin never cried as their dad considered it a sign of weakness.

Then there was Darren but he was known by the gang as Daz. They had given him that nickname because his clothes were always brand new and brilliant white; he lived at the other end of the street, at number twenty. He was the wealthy kid in the street and found it difficult to get along with the other kids. In truth he only hung around with the gang to show off all the expensive toys from his massive collection. When the gang were outside playing ‘Cowboy’s and Indians’ Daz would be wearing the full kit and caboodle. He had a suede hat; die cast metal guns, holster made from real leather which give out a strong leathery smell, he even had silver stirrups for his shoes. Most of the other kids had to make do with broken guns or makeshift wooden sticks that resembled weapons, shouting bang, bang down the street at each other. However, it was a good thing for the gang when Daz moved into the street because it meant they all received a gun from his immense assortment. Daz always raved to his mum about the latest toys he saw in the toy shops. He knew he could wrap her around his little finger, as she always gave in to his demands, just to keep him quiet.

Then there was Phil, who lived at the far end of the street, in number one, with his mother. No one had ever seen his dad, and Phil never spoke about him. Phil was a sensitive and dependable friend and would help anyone who was in difficulty. He would always go on errands especially for two elderly sisters who lived opposite his house. Eva and Violet were their names. They would constantly pull back their brilliant white floral net curtains and knock on the window when they caught sight of Phil. They would usually enquire if he would go to the corner shop to buy tea bags or milk for them. Eva and Violet would try their hardest to give him money for helping them out but he would always refuse to accept it, at first.

Go on lad - take it to buy some sweeties!

Phil would eventually have to give in and take the money after Eva’s persistent badgering. He would thank them for the money whilst the other gang members looked on from the other side of the road, wondering how much money he had been given. As soon as the little old ladies closed their door, he would then walk over to his friends to show them a bright shiny twenty pence piece. As decimalisation had just happened that year, they were all fascinated with the new money that had replaced the old coinage.

Let’s go to the corner-shop and get a mix-up. Last one there stinks, pumps and eats it laughed Phil.

They all made a dash for the shop, except Paul found it hard to keep up with his friends.

Wait for me! He shouted out.

Gordy slowed down at his brother’s request. While the rest of the gang had reached the street corner they stood talking to Janine and Andy, who were brother and sister from a large family that lived in a grimy stinky house. They were known in the street as the smelly, snotty nosed kids. Janine was swinging around and around the metal barrier outside the shop, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, and shouted out while hanging upside down.

How much did you get?

Twenty pence yelled Daz.

Gordy and Paul had now caught up with the group, so they all quickly ran to the shop door. The shop owner Ethel was very old and was losing her sight, she wore a badly fitted wig that she had probably got from an old shop window mannequin. Despite this she was still quite energetic for her age. She also had a terrible memory and always got the children’s names mixed up. The shop which had been passed down to her from her parents had been kept in its original state from the aged wooden floor that creaked with every step customers took, to the old cabinets with big glass jars that held all of the loose sweets. Even though the shop looked really ancient, it still radiated a feeling of warmth with its lip-smacking aromas. The delicious smells of treacle, vanilla and liquorice all mixed together. When the children entered the shop Ethel shouted at them, as they all stood there with their dirty faces pushed up against the glass, looking like they were about to enter a face-pulling contest. They all had their mouths wide open looking at the goodies of every description on display: bubble gum, liquorice, sherbet, gobstoppers, chews and chocolate; it was sweet paradise for them.

Twenty pence mix up please. Phil asked Ethel politely.

OK David she replied with her wig falling askew. Do you want bubble gum in that?

All of the children were laughing at Ethel’s mix up with the names and also at her slipped hairpiece.

Yes please! was the reply from all of them, like a choir about to sing.

When they got back outside with their big bag of goodies, Phil started to divide up the sweets amongst his friends as they all held out their dirty hands.

What shall we do today? Marvin asked while he unwrapped his bubblegum.

Let’s go to the Bankies Gordy said with clout.

CHAPTER 2 

The Great Escape

The Bankies was the local grassy spot where all of the kids in the surrounding area would hang out and play, having enormous fun and adventures. It had three steep slopes that were ideal for rolling down; or for using sheets of cardboard as toboggans for downhill racing. The best time on the slopes was in the winter sledging at high speeds. The Bankies also had an area that the gang called the Creepy Forest, it was said hundreds of tramps dwelled in the heart of it. Yet no one had actually been courageous enough to step within the forest. Across from the trees was a huge boulder protruding out of the ground. It was slate grey in colour and was elevated about three feet on one side and seven feet on the other.

The gang played on this rock most days. One day it was a stupendous castle and they were all knights in shining armour. After that it would be the biggest mountain that they all had to scale and once they had successfully reached its peak they would plant their flag, which was really an old cloth tied to a stick. On other occasions it would be an island surrounded by shark infested waters. It was a place to escape, to be whoever they wanted to be and the perfect getaway to their own fantasy world. As the gang walked over to the Bankies, Daz suddenly started bragging again.

I’m getting a new toy today - they call them Klackers.

Sounds rubbish to me shouted Janine, with a slight frown appearing on her face.

The rest of the group could sense the jealousy in her voice. If truth be known they were all feeling envious of Daz again. The gang had finally reached the crest of the Bankies. Looking out at the fantastic view in the distance they could see the River Tyne and their beloved football stadium.

Quick, let’s all roll down the hill and make our way to the rock. Leon said as he quickly lay down on the long grass and started to rotate downhill with the rest following behind him like bowling balls hurtling towards skittles. Once they had all reached the base of the slope Gordy stood up and shouted,

Hurry lets swim to the island before the sharks come and chew us up!

They all began to wave their arms into the bright blue sky shouting,

Sharks, Sharks!

One by one they reached the island and hurriedly scrambled onto the rock except Paul and Janine.

Help us up! they both shouted.

Ha ha, leave them in the water to get eaten by the sharks laughed Daz.

The others began to laugh, but Paul and Janine didn’t see the funny side. Instead they screamed out, their mouths synchronised with one another.

Help me get them up! Gordy told the gang as he held out his hand to assist his brother up.

The rest came over and aided him with the rescue of the whaling pair. With them all safe on the island Gordy spoke up.

"Right let’s spread out into groups. Phil, Janine, Leon and Marvin go north. Andy, Paul and Daz head south. The rest of us will hang about here and make a camp. We need to look for fire wood and weapons. Gordy pointed to a few withered twigs scattered around their feet.

The group split up and said their farewells to each other as if they were going on a great adventure and might not see each other for weeks or even years. Gordy walked over to the edge of the rock and sat down with his bottle of pop in his hand. He lifted it up sideways to his eyes as if it was a pair of sunglasses. The sun was glistening through the glass bottle onto the gently flowing liquid. Gordy imagined he was looking out to sea, swaying the bottle from side to side, giving the appearance of small waves before his eyes.

Gordy! Paul shouted, bringing him out of his daydream. Look sharks!

Gordy gazed to where Paul was pointing and in the distance he could just make out shapes moving quickly down the hill heading towards them.

Quick! shouted Gordy to everyone as he could now make out the figures in the distance, It’s the Nilly gang.

The Nillys were more terrifying than a shiver of sharks. They were a bunch of bad apples not to be messed with. Their days consisted of fighting with anyone who came into contact with them, their leader Billy was the rottenest apple in the barrel, right down to the core. Gordy’s gang thought he must have been born with a black eye because they never