When I first started on four shifts down at the mill we used to carry three spare men per shift.  The spare men used to learn all of the jobs on papermaking and could fill in when someone was missing.  That was the theory anyway.  In practice if someone was off ill or on holiday their job was nearly always covered by someone working overtime.  Sometimes the spare men would have to help out but most often than not we were just spare.  One of the most important things that all spare men needed was the ability to play Wogga!  Wogga was the card game everyone liked to play, and play we did.  There were wogga schools all over and though we played for money, it wasn't often that any changed hands.  Everyone had a "list".  Owers and Owe-ees.  Tuffy was undoubtedly "The Best on Mill".  He had certain little catch phrases that he would chant out during the game.  Phrases like:

        "Give Me Something, Give Me Something, Doooooooo" 

"Oh, I'm as high as a kite!"

"If you want it pick it up. If you don't, take off the top. The rules of the game are very, very simple. A child of three could play."

    One night shift we were playing on Number 1 Prep and I was heavily down to my mate Pete Thacker.  The phone rang and Pete answered it then told me I was needed in Reelers.  I didn't like working in reelers one little bit but I reluctantly headed down there as Pete made a sizeable adjustment against my name on his list.  When I arrived the foreman, Rodger Crofts, gave me a bit of a dressing down for taking so long.  He was sympathetic when I told him how much I'd lost then told me to get my gauntlets on as we were going to have a game of cricket!  That's what he'd called me for.  To bowl!

Boy things have changed.

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    There's a guy called Scoot who was a spare man back then.  He is the Number Three Machine Man now, probably the most responsible job in papermaking.

    One night I was helping out on One & Two Prep.  I went outside to drop Voith Two and Scoot was hiding behind the conveyor.  He jumped out and gave me quite a fright.  He was laughing out loud as he ran off down the link way and I shouted after him that I would have my revenge....

    Next day I got up at lunch time and took a walk to my local pub, the Royal Oak.  Mick Sheldon, the manager, was a good friend of mine and I knew he had the most horrendous rubber mask.  He had bought it in a joke shop in Blackpool and it really was horrific. It had an awful hooked nose, long yellow teeth, green hair, and absolutely the most wicked eyes you could ever see.  I told Mick about Scoot's little trick and he agreed to lend me the MASK. 

    That night at work Scoot was helping in the Machine House while I was on Prep.  Around One O'clock I opened the hatch that looked down on the machine house and I could clearly see that they were having trouble.  There was scrap paper everywhere and I knew that before long Scoot would be coming up to borrow our truck.  As luck would have it I saw him setting off and I quickly ran back into our cabin and waited for him.  When he asked to borrow the truck I told him that it was low on gas and that it would need filling.  He agreed to fill it and as soon as he went I picked up the mask and ran for all I was worth through the mill and out onto the back road where the gas filling point was. 

    It was a cold foggy night and I must admit I was quite freaked myself as I lay in wait with the MASK on down by the river.  Eventually I heard the truck approaching and soon I could see Scoot driving it into position.  As he got off he nervously had a good look round and I lay still in the bushes.  As soon as he started to fill the gas cylinder I crept up behind him.  I could easily have shouted and startled him but instead I just stood up right behind him.  Still he hadn't seen me.  I started taking deep breaths and emitting a low moan.  Scoot slowly turned his head and as he saw me he screamed out loud, dropped the gas gun and started running backwards.  I ran in a low loping fashion, with my arms outstretched, after him.  "Get away!  Get way! he screamed as I caught him and wrestled him to the ground.  I continued making the moaning noises for a bit until Scoot was clearly close to shitting himself. 

    When I took the MASK off I just couldn't stop laughing for ages. 

    Oh yes my friends.   Revenge is indeed Sweet!   

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    My next move after being a spare man was straight up to Senior Pulperman on 1 & 2 Prep.  When I was given this job one guy in particular was not at all happy about it.  Tony Holgate.  He was also a spare man and honestly believed that he was entitled to this position and was gutted when I was chosen over him.  In fact, along with Pete Thacker, we used to regularly drink together down at Lowoods Club but that all ended on the day I was made up.  It was a Friday and as usual I walked down to the club with Pete.  Tony was there and all he said was "They've given you my job".  He then turned his back on me and that was the end of that friendship.   Oh well, his loss not mine.  Some time after that he "sacked himself" by saying that he could no longer do his job due to an injury. 

    So the prep crew on our shift was Pete, Me , and Noel.  Noel was a fiery old git but we got on well enough.  Pete was a great guy to work with apart from his preference for "stretching my neck" every now and then! 

    Pete and I used to good humouredly argue like cat and dog about whose turn it was to make the tea,  or as they say round here Mash.  By preference I used to go to the canteen to fetch our breakfasts and because I did this I used to "claim a mash".  Pete used to go bananas when I did this and it usually ended in me having my neck stretched.  To an outsider these arguments used to appear quite realistic and one day one of the gaffers walked in when we were at it hammer and tongs.  It was Tony Turner and he yelled,  "What the Fuck's going on here?"  Pete said that he was fed up of me claiming mashes  and I said that maybe we should let Mr. Turner decide on the legitimacy of my claim.  He said he would hear both sides of the argument but that his decision would be final.  Pete and I agreed to this and I put my case first;

    "Every time we are on mornings, I ask Pete and Noel what they would like for breakfast.  I then go all the way to the canteen, in all weathers, to get it.  I watch the canteen girls making the sandwiches, making sure that Pete and Noel get exactly what they want.  I bring these sandwiches back and because I have performed this service I claim a Mash.  The defence rests."

    Pete went next:

    "I can't drink a fucking bacon sandwich so it obviously isn't a mash!"

    Tony Turner considered the evidence and ruled that I was entitled to claim a mash!  That was the best decision he ever made!

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     At that time the pulpermen had an armchair in the corner of the cabin and a long broom handle which had been whittled thin at one end.  We used it to press buttons on the control panel without having to get up.  Noel and I used to take it in turns to drop all four pulpers.  While one of us was busy the other would sit in the armchair and operate the pumps (with the aid of the stick).

    We had an absolutely awful guy come to "work" at the mill.  His name was Howard McGee.  He was the Shift Engineer but his speciality was mending tellies.  For no reason at all we took a dislike to one another.   One nightshift he came up to the prep-plant on his rounds while Noel was busy outside.  He sat and chatted to Pete for a while then said to me:

    "You've got the easiest job on the mill Carey!"

    "What makes you say that and the name is Paul, Geordie, or Mr. Carey"

    "Well you just sit there all night pressing buttons with a stick"

    "I'm not just pressing them at random.  I'm monitoring consistencies and levels and making adjustments to suit.  In a few minutes Noel will come in and then I will be dropping pulpers for a couple of hours."

    Shortly afterwards Noel came in and I went outside, closely followed by Howard.  I looked in the first pulper, noticed that Noel had forgotten to put the dye in and tutted loud enough for him to hear.  He asked if I had a problem and I asked him to take a look.  He peered into the pulper, obviously couldn't see anything wrong and said;

    "So what's up?"

    "Do you know what colour we are making Howard?"

    "Yes of course I do, er, we are on blue"

    "Well that isn't blue is it?"

    "So what are you going to do about it?"

    "I'm going to have to add some dye"

    In those days we used to dye the pulpers up by hand.  We had a jug with a black line on it.  Fill the jug to the black line with dye and put it in the pulper.  It wasn't exactly rocket science but, hey, it worked.  So I filled the jug to the line then, because Howard was watching, I trickled it in.  Bit by bit.  Really carefully and slowly.  As if by magic the contents of the pulper gradually turned blue.  He said:

    "Hey Paul.  I take back what I said in the cabin.  That was pretty impressive, you must have a real eye for colour!  How can you tell when it's just right?"

    "That's easy Dummy!  The fucking jug's empty!

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    Eventually, for no apparent reason, they split me and Pete Thacker up.  They put me with a guy called P J Teasdale.  One day we were changing colour from blue to soft green.  The lab used to be a lot more involved in those days and they were late arriving and PJ was getting madder and madder.  He burst into the cabin and said in a really angry voice:

    "What's the number for the fucking Lab?"

    I looked at the phone list and out of pure devilment gave him the number for Howard Guest, the mill manager.  He rang that number and Guesty answered.  PJ said:

    "Are you coming to fucking sort us out or what?"

    "Do you know who you're talking to?"

    "Er.....No"

    "Well it's Howard Guest here"

    "Well do you know who you're talking to Howard?"

    "Er....No I don't"

    "Well Fuck Off then!"

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PJ used to have a £10 sub nearly every week.  I once heard him phone Brian the wages manager and say:

    "Hello is that my Uncle Brian?"

     "Yes it is Peter.  What can you do me for?"

     "Well Brian,  I need two favours"

     "What's the first favour Peter?"

     "I need a £10 sub please"

     "Okay Peter.  What's the second favour?"

     "Could you make it £20!!"   

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