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Except it hadn't. And it didn't. Not as far as Selwyn was concerned anyway. He failed his medical. He smoked even then, where I was as clean as the driven bloody snow, fit as a butcher's dog, a no-smoking, non-drinking, Mam dominated good Methodist boy. Selwyn couldn't inflate his lungs to the required degree, even though he had quite a few tries. His part of the dream, of the adventure was over, but that affected me not at all. I felt sorry that he wasn't coming with me, but I was still going. I was still going to be a Sailor.

After he left school Selwyn found work as a projectionist in a local cinema and I remember being dead jealous because I loved the films. I was a Saturday morning boy, going with cousin Glyn and the Gatehouses. We would all gather every Saturday for the early morning matinee, hundreds of us. From above it must have looked like miniature workers clocking on at the factory as we streamed along the road towards the picture house. I loved the movies, the serials, the noise, the stamping of feet, the booing, the hissing, the laughing, especially at the Three Stoogies, even the other kids. It was terrific and without the picture house and the swimming baths my childhood would have been particularly bereft. I saw my first naked female breast at the Saturday morning matinee. I forget her name but she was very well endowed for a young girl and took great pleasure in letting everyone have a look. If she really liked you you could have a feel. Mam would have hit the roof if she had known what I was up to in the pictures.

But those days were behind me now. I was going to be a man. I was going off to defend my country. I was going to be a hero. A Sailor. I didn't know a single other person in our town who was, or had been, a sailor, though there must have been some. But after me, many followed. Both Gatehouse brothers, for a start, young Mickey, who loved the Navy almost as much as me, and loads of others. Single handedly, I turned our town into a Navy recruiting centre. Lots of Mums and Dads hated me.

Time ticked away towards the 31st. I kept swimming. I won the North Wales backstroke championship at Llandudno, my relationship with Elaine was still going on, I still met with Glyn, and the Gatehouses. We would listen to rock and roll. Mam and Dad had bought me a record player for Christmas and the first two records I had were 'On The Street Where You Live' by David Whitfield (one day I would work right opposite his house), and 'Bird Dog' by the Everlys.

My life had been transformed by rock and roll. Bill Haley, Elvis, Jerry Lee, Cliff, Chuck, Johnny Kidd, The Shads, we loved the Shads, Buddy Holly. The late great Buddy Holly. One minute I was a hymn singing chapel-goer, the next I was a child of rock and roll. It didn't only affect me, of course. John Lennon loved it, and Paul. Mick Jagger, all of the greats of the sixties, who were, like me, affected by rock and roll. The King Of Skiffle, Lonnie Donegan, we loved him too, but skiffle came and went in the blink of an eye. Ballads continued, as did balladeers, there was folk, and country music, but rock and roll, that was here to stay. I am still a child of rock and roll and can hold my own in conversations with almost anyone of any age about popular music. These days I even write lyrics.

Then the 30th of August arrived. Mam's birthday. I gave her a card and bought her a present. Then I went to my beloved Swimming Club and bade them all farewell. I almost cried. I saw Elaine for almost the last time, though I didn't know it then. I said adieu to all the relatives and woke on the morning of the 31st almost breathless with excitement.

The day had arrived. I was going in the Navy.

Once again we set off as a family on the bus to Birkenhead, then on the Ferry to the recruiting office, me carrying a little brown suitcase of clothes Mam had packed for me. Dad gave me five shillings, little brother laughed a lot, but then again, he always did. We arrived and entered the foyer. There were two or three men in uniform, Petty Officers they said, who came out to speak to Mam and Dad. The Navy would look after me, they said. There was no need to worry or fret, I would be fine. I think Mam said that I had never been away from home before. That's all right, said one of the Petty Officer's. Everything will be just fine. If he gets homesick, the Navy will let him come home. If he doesn't like it, I wouldn't have to stay, and this blatant lie was said with a reassuring smile. I had signed a contract which tied me to the Royal Navy for nine years after reaching the age of eighteen. Which meant, as I was only fifteen years and nine months old, that I would be doing two years and three months that didn't count.

None of this bothered me. Not the first time away from home, not the fear of homesickness, not the contract, nothing. I was going to be a sailor and that was the end of it. Goodbye town, goodbye Elaine, goodbye Swimming Club, goodbye school, goodbye Mam, Dad and little brother. I had a duty to serve.

Finally, I was dragged apart from Mam, and Dad led her away along with little brother. I stood where I was and waved them goodbye until they were out of the door and out of sight.

"Right, son," a Petty Officer said, "follow me."

We climbed some stairs and went up several floors, they were making sure we couldn't escape, and eventually I entered a room the Petty Officer described as a mess. It didn't look a mess to me, I must admit, but then he informed me it was the name of the room, not the bloody state it was in. There would be many Naval words I would never come to terms with. Head, avaft, galley. I would never stop referring to them as toilet, backwards and kitchen. Beds were piled up on one another in the mess and no other boys had yet arrived. They soon did, until there were six or eight of us, including Nash from Chester, who I would go through training with and who looked about twelve years old. Years later I would meet him at a fair in Chester, by the Racecourse, and he still only looked about sixteen.

We were the recruitment. The elite. The ones who had passed the educational test and the medical. We were the best of the best. Oh, yes!