h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Peter Cain was a Manchester Policeman in the 1960's, his regular beat was London Road Station, that was a premier posting and he was the best. Peter was a proud descendant of the Vikings, a giant of a man in every way, over six feet tall, about sixteen stones of solid bone and muscle with a heart of solid gold.

One of the regular frequenters of the refreshment rooms was a young man with the nickname, "Dirty little Jimmy." He was not outstandingly dirty, but he was hounded by some of the officers, never by Peter, or by anyone else in his presence.

Peter wouldn’t appear to actively encourage Jimmy, but he would always allow him to finish his tea before moving him on. Peter told me that Jimmy had lost both of his parents in an air raid during the war, and he had been dug out of the remains of his home after being buried alive for days.

Jimmy had a classical way of making a few extra pounds on top of his social security money. He would get someone to write a letter applying for a job in a hotel kitchen at Bournemouth or some other seaside town. The Hotelier would send him a train ticket, and off he would go for his day out. They would take one look at him; then give him a meal and a train ticket back to Manchester. Jimmy would have had a good day out at the seaside, free travel and a good meal.

Some time later, after I had been taught the art of observation and deduction by Peter, I would learn a great deal more about the things I was seeing, but not observing. Jimmy had a damaged right arm, and he carried it low in front of his body as he shuffled his way off the station when he was moved on by some of the officers. Usually there was a wry smile on his face as he did so, as if to say, “ I know something that you don’t know,” and I found out later that he actually did.

When Peter moved him on, Jimmy actually grew taller, the shuffle was not as obvious, and the smirk completely disappeared. Eventually, one night I went into the office while Peter was having his supper, and he said, “ You haven’t thrown Jimmy off the station, have you?” “ No, he is in the Midland waiting room.”

Peter then started to leave the office and I said, “ Goodness Peter, the job is straight up and you have only just brewed the tea.” “ That’s alright, I am not suggesting that you have not done the job properly, pour a cup for yourself and I will be back soon.”

Having learned quite a lot already from Peter’s very patient lessons, I had a very speedy cup of his tea and then I followed him out onto the patch, just in time to see him escorting Jimmy off the station. Jimmy was very carefully placing an envelope into his pocket. Now all was crystal clear to me, Peter was writing Jimmy’s job applications for him. Imagine the thoughts of those hoteliers down on the South Coast as they compared Jimmy with the immaculate copperplate handwriting of Peter Cain.

Sad to relate there was no happy future for either the down and out Jimmy or his benefactor and protector Peter, a few short years later Jimmy no longer quietly appeared on the station for his regular cup of tea, and Peter my own tutor and protector, died at only forty seven years of age.

Cheers H.