The ‘Rec’ comprised of a rugby pitch at one end and a football pitch at the other. In the middle were the Rugby Club changing rooms. The two pitches were end to end longways. A slag heap ran across the back of the entire length of them.

Slag heaps are the mountains of waste material which were dug from the mines that surrounded them. Over the years they became so large that they looked like volcanoes. The slag heap by the ‘Rec’ was so high and wide it was more like a mountain range with very steep sides. All the locals called it ‘The Batch’.

Simon, Jane, and Christine set out their picnic near the changing rooms. This was close to the bottom of the sloping slag heap. The dust sheet went down, and the picnic basket emptied neatly and in good order by the girls. Sandwiches were handed round and each of them took a plastic cup ready for the lemonade.

Just as they were about to start their lunch, they were rudely interrupted by an avalanche of rocks and slag landing near their picnic. Three Westfield boys with wide grins on their faces were sliding down the Batch towards them. They had evil intent.

Westfield was the town on the other side of the batch. They had a gang of boys that would come over the batch just like the Vikings did. They would pillage what they could and there was no stopping them. That is until Simon had his own gang, but that’s a story for later.

There was always trouble from this group of boys. Simon knew they were after their picnic and there was no way he was giving up his bottle of lemonade without a fight. The three boys rushing down the batch towards them were a lot bigger than Simon and were already in secondary school. Jane and Christine had seen them and ran away crying. The whooping and shouting from these big boys terrified them.

They towered over Simon, but he stood his ground. As one of them bent forward to grab the lemonade, Simon caught him with a swift uppercut. He punched the boy backwards but as he went to hit him again, his friends piled in. Even if he was able to punch any of them, they were too tall for the punch to have an impact.

Simon was pummelled. By the time the boys had finished, he was doubled over from the blows. His pink national health glasses were bent and didn’t fit. His nose was bleeding onto the white dust sheet. The sandwiches were scattered across the grass and the lemonade and cakes had gone.

Simon didn’t cry because his big brothers wouldn’t have thought that of him. He traipsed home with a basket of remains from the picnic with one thing in mind.

He was getting bigger and stronger and the tables would turn……………………………. and they did!

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