Rupert the tramp.
Rupert the tramp was a familiar figure in Gorton during the late seventies, early eighties. He was tall, gaunt and easily recognised by his shabby greasy clothes and wild hair that gave him a Ben Gun appearance. Most days he could be seen walking the empty streets of terraced houses awaiting demolition. This was where he earned his living; this was where he lived. During the day he would comb the old houses for scrap copper and lead piping that he would weigh in for a few pennies and at night he would find a house that still had windows and a door and there he would sleep.
People didn’t pay much attention to Rupert really, they didn’t bother him and he certainly didn’t bother them. It was a good arrangement; sometimes people swapped rumours about why he became a tramp. Nobody came near the truth, he walked amongst them for years and they never knew who he was. Had they done so they may have been a little more sympathetic to his plight. He had in fact touched a great many of their lives in one way or another. Like the wife whose husband left them penniless after gambling the housekeeping money on the horses, or a poor family whose children through the efforts of a charity people like Rupert supported were taken to the seaside for a few days holiday.
Walking home late one night after a few drinks with some friends I called in the public toilets near the Lake Hotel, there standing very still and looking in the mirror was this tall thin man, in a long overcoat with wild matted hair and a unkempt beard. I decided against washing my hands and made to leave, “She wont come back, she said she wouldn’t come back” For such a scruffy looking individual he was well spoken and his voice was surprisingly cultured. He turned to look at me, his eyes were sad “You can’t trust them, they just, you can’t trust them”. I smiled and left, as guilty as anyone for ignoring this lonely man.
I met Rupert again some years later during a stay in hospital at the beginning of my Gall bladder period. He looked decidedly different, clean, well groomed and happier, though his years spent living rough had taken their toll. In the few days that we spent together in ward M6 we talked a lot, and he told me a good deal about his life.
Rupert had been a polish immigrant from war torn Europe, he had worked hard at various jobs until eventually he became the propriarter of a Bookmakers and although not wealthy he was certainly comfortable and could easily have retired on his savings and the sale of his business. He met a woman a good deal younger than him, at first everything was good but despite warnings from friends that she was a gold digger who was after his money they married.
To some he was a pariah because of his business, to others he was a saint because of his charity work and the money he spent helping people. To his new wife he was an unfortunate but necessary encumbrance to her new lifestyle. It wasn’t long before she began taking lovers in double figures, and almost everybody knew including Rupert. When she took his best friend to her bed it did something to him that changed his life. He went on a destructive drinking spree that lasted weeks, and then he just disappeared.
In fact he had been admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where he spent some time before discharging himself, taking to the streets and living rough. Although he lived for years in squalor and dirt, the money he earned from scrap metal was carefully saved. He told me he managed to put aside about a hundred-pound a week. His wants were few, his overheads minimal. He had found himself in hospital after a fall from the roof of a derelict building where he had been collecting lead guttering. The hospital had managed to inform his next of kin, who just happened to be the loveless wife who betrayed him with his friend.
She hadn’t seen him for years but she managed to convince him that they should make a new start and that she would look after him. She had run the bookmakers into the ground, spent all the money and now she was back for another bite of the cherry, and he fell for it. I tried unsuccessfully to talk him into taking more time to think about it, but he was determined that this time everything would be ok. She had changed, she was sorry; she was ready to start again. There wasn’t much I could do really, I hadn’t known him long and it was to be honest none of my business.
He was discharged a couple of days before me, we shook hands and wished each other luck, then he left with his wife to begin what he thought would be a better life. I don’t know all the details of how it fell apart, but I can guess. She finished up once again sat at the bar in the snug drinking brandies and dripping gold, whilst Rupert went looking for scrap lead again, this time to fill his pockets and go for a swim.
“You can’t trust them, they just, you can’t trust them”
People didn’t pay much attention to Rupert really, they didn’t bother him and he certainly didn’t bother them. It was a good arrangement; sometimes people swapped rumours about why he became a tramp. Nobody came near the truth, he walked amongst them for years and they never knew who he was. Had they done so they may have been a little more sympathetic to his plight. He had in fact touched a great many of their lives in one way or another. Like the wife whose husband left them penniless after gambling the housekeeping money on the horses, or a poor family whose children through the efforts of a charity people like Rupert supported were taken to the seaside for a few days holiday.
Walking home late one night after a few drinks with some friends I called in the public toilets near the Lake Hotel, there standing very still and looking in the mirror was this tall thin man, in a long overcoat with wild matted hair and a unkempt beard. I decided against washing my hands and made to leave, “She wont come back, she said she wouldn’t come back” For such a scruffy looking individual he was well spoken and his voice was surprisingly cultured. He turned to look at me, his eyes were sad “You can’t trust them, they just, you can’t trust them”. I smiled and left, as guilty as anyone for ignoring this lonely man.
I met Rupert again some years later during a stay in hospital at the beginning of my Gall bladder period. He looked decidedly different, clean, well groomed and happier, though his years spent living rough had taken their toll. In the few days that we spent together in ward M6 we talked a lot, and he told me a good deal about his life.
Rupert had been a polish immigrant from war torn Europe, he had worked hard at various jobs until eventually he became the propriarter of a Bookmakers and although not wealthy he was certainly comfortable and could easily have retired on his savings and the sale of his business. He met a woman a good deal younger than him, at first everything was good but despite warnings from friends that she was a gold digger who was after his money they married.
To some he was a pariah because of his business, to others he was a saint because of his charity work and the money he spent helping people. To his new wife he was an unfortunate but necessary encumbrance to her new lifestyle. It wasn’t long before she began taking lovers in double figures, and almost everybody knew including Rupert. When she took his best friend to her bed it did something to him that changed his life. He went on a destructive drinking spree that lasted weeks, and then he just disappeared.
In fact he had been admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where he spent some time before discharging himself, taking to the streets and living rough. Although he lived for years in squalor and dirt, the money he earned from scrap metal was carefully saved. He told me he managed to put aside about a hundred-pound a week. His wants were few, his overheads minimal. He had found himself in hospital after a fall from the roof of a derelict building where he had been collecting lead guttering. The hospital had managed to inform his next of kin, who just happened to be the loveless wife who betrayed him with his friend.
She hadn’t seen him for years but she managed to convince him that they should make a new start and that she would look after him. She had run the bookmakers into the ground, spent all the money and now she was back for another bite of the cherry, and he fell for it. I tried unsuccessfully to talk him into taking more time to think about it, but he was determined that this time everything would be ok. She had changed, she was sorry; she was ready to start again. There wasn’t much I could do really, I hadn’t known him long and it was to be honest none of my business.
He was discharged a couple of days before me, we shook hands and wished each other luck, then he left with his wife to begin what he thought would be a better life. I don’t know all the details of how it fell apart, but I can guess. She finished up once again sat at the bar in the snug drinking brandies and dripping gold, whilst Rupert went looking for scrap lead again, this time to fill his pockets and go for a swim.
“You can’t trust them, they just, you can’t trust them”
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