Two weeks had passed and their still had been no resolution between the unions and Kirkby Brick & Tile, and I needed to start earning a wage, I had packed in both my job at Tiffanys and my part time jobs in the hope of gaining full time employment, and my lack of finance was now becoming a serious issue. All my mates seemed to be working and if I was to enjoy the social life that was on offer then I urgently needed to find gainful employment. It wasn't long in coming. Most job opportunities in those days were on Government Schemes which paid an allowance of about £17.50 per week, which I personally thought was cheap labour, and yet another way for the Government to mask unemployment figures. Jobs seemed plentiful though and I would visit the Job Centre on a daily basis in the hope of finding a proper job and not just some poxy scheme. It soon arrived, when I was successfully interviewed for the post of an Office Junior at the Wirral Globe Newspaper based in Bold Street in the town centre. The starting salary was about 150 per month, which was a great wage for that time. At interview they had spoken of opportunities to become a Graphic Designer and as Art had always been one of my stronger points at school I envisaged a career in the media, doing design work for Newspapers etc. I was optimistic for my future and felt I had landed on my feet.I can vaguely recall going to both Blackler's and Philip Son & Nephews prior to starting my new career to purchase all the necessary equipment I thought I would need like pencils, rulers, rubbers, felt tips and of course a great big drawing pad. So I was a bit pissed off when I turned up at the Wirral Globe on my first day, and was introduced to a giant of a man by the name of Garth who was the newspapers resident artist. Looking back I suspect his name was really Jimmy or Frank but Garth had an aura about it, and I realised then that maybe I would have to think of a singular name, that would become synomonous with my artwork. I thought that Garth was due to retire and I was taking his place, so when he told me that my job initially was to make tea for all the staff at 10am, lunchtime and 3pm and in between open the mail and distribute it around the offices, I was a bit deflated to say the least, and to further compound my misery, he had the audacity to say that there was a dress code which did not include Fleming Jeans, Kios Boots and Fred Perry polo-shirts!! My time at Wirral Globe was uneventful and very very boring I was capable of far more than was expected of me, and I felt uncomfortable in such an environment, everyone who worked there appeared to come from the Wirral (Plastic Scousers) and all in their late twenties or thirties, I had nothing in common with any of them, whom I all viewed as middle class pricks, and soon become bored, being their little Gopher. I would actively look to create mischief by altering the adverts that would be placed in the following weeks paper. I can recall changing the phone number on one classified advert to that of Chester Zoo and indicated that the caller had to ask for a Mr.C.Lyon (sorry Chester Zoo I was bored) and another was a classified advert where the seller was selling a Large Chest Freezer I altered the text so it read Large Chest and Massage. But such frivolity did not provide enough stimulation and within a fortnight I left, I was told that I would have to work a further month before I could leave, as I was salaried, at that time I had no concept of work etiquette and giving notice etc, so innocently informed my employer that I was leaving that very day and had only come in to pick up what was due to me in wages. After much heated discussion it was agreed that I could leave with immediate effect and my wages would be posted in the form of a cheque at the end of the month.Fuck that I thought I'm off out at the weekend I want it now, again I was told that salaries go through another office and this was not possible, I just couldn't understand this, as in my head, I had done what was asked of me, and was now leaving and subsequently wanted paying NOW. I refused to leave the office until I had received what I considered to be rightfully mine, and eventually it was agreed that I leave the office with immediate effect and return later that day to collect my wages. I agreed to this on the understanding that I be given cash and not a cheque, as I wouldn't know what to do with a bleeding cheque. Some four hours later I returned and collected the grand sum of £66.00 for my two weeks work.

I can vaguely recall sitting on the back of a 19A bus on my home mesmerised with this amount of cash, which I had changed into £1.00 notes in the bank at the bottom of Bold Street as it seemed I had more doing that! After I had tipped up my keep to my Nan, I was still left with a few bob to squander but I made a choice to speculate to accumulate and purchased a Mobile Disco from Freemans Catalogue on the never never complete with two massive speakers, dual turntables and enough lights to light up a terraced house. I had to pay a deposit of about £20.00 and then something silly like a fiver a week for the next 25 years! But my logic was that I would be that busy with bookings that such payment wouldn't present a problem. My business plan did not include such important factors as transport or the ongoing purchasing of records, which I suppose for a Mobile Disco is a pre-requisite. That weekend whilst I was waiting for my equipment to arrive was spent securing bookings in both the Netley and the Bluehouse as young as I was I successfully negotiated that I would do the first nights for free and thereafter charge something like £30.00 a night, Pete's Mobile Disco was in business!! That first gig in the Bluehouse Pub (The Stanley Park, opposite Everton's Goodison Park) made me realise that my disco was a fanny magnet literally overnight, I had attracted a posse of female admirers, all because I had the gift of the gab with a microphone, happy days!! That first gig will remain memorable to me for a variety of reasons. Most notably was receiving a blow job under the table from an unknown attractive female admirer, hence I felt it appropriate to play Nobody Does It Better by Carly Simon, as this virtual stranger certainly knew what she was doing. Life at this time was a merry go round of parties, pubs girls and clubs, and was without doubt one of the happiest times in my life. Unfortunately my Mobile Disco didn't have the longevity I had anticipated, having to rely on one particular friend who had transport and appeared allergic to rising out of his bed before mid-afternoon became problematic as I was unable to effectively move my equipment without his assistance, which probably served me another important lesson in later life that being if you want a job doing properly do it yourself. A new world was opening up to me now, with the advent of pubs & clubs and more importantly girls, I reluctantly made the decision to send the Disco Equipment back to Freemans but realised prior to sending it back I would have to render it inoperative claiming the console was faulty. So I duly undone the console and removed some wires whilst drafting a letter complaining of the sub standard equipment and the loss of earnings this has created for me. I was really pleased with my ingenuity, when I later received a letter of apology from Freemans catalogue and a cheque to cover any financial losses I had incurred; so resourceful at such a young age would serve me well in later life.

The loss of the disco equipment did leave a severe hole in my financial incomings and it was clear that if I wanted to continue to lead the life I was becoming accustomed to, of partying, weekends interspersed with football matches and maintaining a wardrobe that would continue to attract the girls, I had to find gainful employment and find it quick. As a short-term measure I was offered regular casual work as a builders labourer for a guy who owned the off licence in City Road, Walton. This involved digging footings for house extensions along with my mate Tony Hislop. Unfortunately this foray into the building trade didn't last to long, as basically I was often suffering from the previous nights partying and would rest on my shovel whilst reading the new Daily Tabloid which had recently been launched called the Daily Star. Dennis the owner of the building firm would go ballistic when he arrived at the end of a working day expecting to find the footings completed ready for the inspector to pass it so the tradesmen could commence their trades, but all he found was a couple of inches of soil that had been disturbed and me lying on some tarpaulin either reading the paper or wolf whistling at passing mothers on their way to school to collect their kids, as you can imagine I was very soon an unemployed builders labourer and my search for employment continued.

Shortly after my return from Ireland, I made a conscious decision to find employment and after trawling the job centres with no luck I went to the Careers Office in Great Crosshall Street where I was attracted to an advert which wanted a Slate Etcher to relocate in North Wales. The idea of moving and relocating to a foreign shore sounded really appealing (okay it was only Conwy, but it seemed miles away at the time) so I made further enquiries, and was informed that the job entailed relocating to a tiny village called Trefriw situated in the Conwy Valley in North Wales, the employer would provide a self contained flat and employment which would involve etching on slates. The finished slates would then be distributed predominantly throughout North Wales and occasionally abroad for the tourist industry. I had to provide samples of artwork and return to the careers office and undertake a test where I had to etch a rose on Welsh slate with a glass scriber, art had always been an interest of mine whilst at school and I was confident in attaining the post, so I was not overly surprised when I was offered the position alongside another lad also from Liverpool called Billy Metcalfe who originated from the Vauxhall area of the city. It was agreed that I would commence my new employment within the month; hence I made the necessary arrangements and carried on as though I was emigrating to foreign shores (the world really did seem a much bigger place back then).

I intended to leave Liverpool with a bang and set out with my friends on my going away party and managed to cop off with a barmaid from the Mayflower Pub which was located in Fazakerley Street, Liverpool. At the time I thought Sally was a good catch, as she was an older woman, (she was about 21) who certainly knew how to flirt, rumour had it, that her dad was a Bouncer in the Liverpool Nightclub scene and was not someone to be messed with, however I was more interested in messing with his daughter, so I envisaged no problems on that score. Sure enough Sally lived up to expectations and further expanded my experience in the sexual field after showing me a host of new tricks at her flat in Tynwald Hill in the Tuebrook area of the city. At the time I thought my little conquest with Sally was just that, another notch on the bedpost, but my liaison with her, would have much further consequences in the prevailing weeks and months. It was now a week or so before I was due to leave Liverpool and start upon my new life in North Wales and I was determined to ensure that I was not forgotten in the nightclubs and pubs of Liverpool City Centre and the surrounding areas.