He was barred from every pub from Kingsdown to Deal and incapacitated to travelling any further afield due to being wheelchair bound and black-listed by every local cab firm. No restaurant would serve him and the tag he'd worn for several years now still bleeped at the entrance of Sainsbury's, causing the steel roller-blinds to automatically close down the store.
The exclusive golf clubs of Sandwich remained that, as did the limited opportunities to enjoy his favourite tribute-acts at The Astor Theatre. All other licensed establishments were equally unwelcoming, although in true spirit he'd had a crack at all of them at one time or another: rowing, yachting, tennis, snooker, rugger, the Marines.
His injuries were largely self-inflicted. Once, while trying to impress a young French actress, he'd leapt from a moonlit groyne in Walmer without noticing the tide was out and shattered his spine. On another occasion, he'd lost the sight in his left eye in a fairground brawl over a coconut he believed was glued to is shy.
If alcohol was his undoing, it was a saviour for others. He'd raised hundreds of thousands for local charities, collecting enough money over the years for three new lifeboats and at least two dozen blind dogs. It was estimated through his tireless work alone that he'd had been responsible for saving over five hundred lives, yet there was no plaque, not even a bench on the seafront to mark this extraordinary feat and sadly, the money he raised through his collection tins had dwindled to a just few coppers now.
The exclusive golf clubs of Sandwich remained that, as did the limited opportunities to enjoy his favourite tribute-acts at The Astor Theatre. All other licensed establishments were equally unwelcoming, although in true spirit he'd had a crack at all of them at one time or another: rowing, yachting, tennis, snooker, rugger, the Marines.
His injuries were largely self-inflicted. Once, while trying to impress a young French actress, he'd leapt from a moonlit groyne in Walmer without noticing the tide was out and shattered his spine. On another occasion, he'd lost the sight in his left eye in a fairground brawl over a coconut he believed was glued to is shy.
If alcohol was his undoing, it was a saviour for others. He'd raised hundreds of thousands for local charities, collecting enough money over the years for three new lifeboats and at least two dozen blind dogs. It was estimated through his tireless work alone that he'd had been responsible for saving over five hundred lives, yet there was no plaque, not even a bench on the seafront to mark this extraordinary feat and sadly, the money he raised through his collection tins had dwindled to a just few coppers now.
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