Anyway, last week (October 4th at 11:30 p.m.) I got beaten up. It seems very cold and sterile put like that, but I can assure you that at the time and even now it was/is far from that. Actually, I remember very little of the incident, so what follows is largely based on what the guy who was with me at the time has told me since. That Tuesday a gang of us from work had decided to go and see Newport rugby team play the Barbarians (one if the highlights of Newport's sporting/social year). After the match, which was a draw, we went to the pub and had the inevitable few drinks. At closing time I and a chap called Chris, who happens to live quite close to me, started to walk home.

This is where it begins to get interesting, when we were only about 10 minutes from home we walked past someone sitting on a wall. Apparently he said something pretty offensive as we went by to which I somewhat foolishly replied. The next thing that we knew we were being followed by two people (the wall-sitter and his brother) who were shouting threats after us. Now I can remember turning around and shouting that if they were out to get us they were not walking very fast (the beer talking) and taking my glasses off. Next they ran up to us while we stood there like dummies both thinking that we were watching this on television. When they arrived the one who had started it all apparently hit me so hard in the face that the back of my head hit a nearby wall and I was knocked unconscious.

The next thing that I knew about was when I woke up sometime the following morning in the casualty department of the local hospital. I later discovered that this psychopath had kicked me when I was on the ground, and I had a broken nose, a tooth fractured in half, two black eyes (one swollen shut) and severe facial bruising. They proceeded to ask my name and address etc., and I can remember one of the nurses saying, "He's had six pints, but he's quite coherent". When they had finished stitching me back together they took me to a proper ward and I went to sleep. It was no fun waking up the following morning, as in addition to my face ache I had a slight hangover as well. I had no idea of what had happened to Chris and one of the first things that I was told was that my mother would be in to see me, I can remember starting to cry at this because I did not want her to see me in this condition, but it did not last long.

My mother did come in that morning, but I cannot remember much of what was said. In the afternoon my sister, who was there, said the police were coming to interview me and I was moved into a more private side ward. In actual fact the first people I saw were my mother and Chris. Chris gave me an edited version of what had happened, and how he had got on. It would appear that while Adolf was hitting me in the face his brother was keeping Chris out of it by just getting in the way and not allowing Chris, who was drunker than I even, realise what was happening. Just as Mr Crazy was getting tired of using my head as a football, and punched Chris in the face, a police car pulled up. They arrested the loony, and Chris, the brother was by this time just standing in the background with his girlfriend!, and called an ambulance for me. Unfortunately I can remember nothing of the flashing blue lights and action. It took Chris some time to convince them that he was innocent, and indeed my friend, and apparently he did not get away from the police station until 4 o'clock in the morning.

When they left the police came in, took some photographs of my injuries, told me that the person who had done it had a previous record of violence, and took my statement. As I could not remember anything at that time after about 5 minutes before the incident started (obviously my subconscious working overtime) I told them exactly what Chris had told me, which was pretty much as the above, without the verbal interchange which lets face it does not make us look too clever. I was quite surprised, as I had always thought that when you made a police statement they copied verbatim what you had said. However what happened was that the Detective Sergeant listened to what I had said, and at the end wrote down his version of it all and then read it back to me. There was some disparity, as we seem to have lost some pints during this process, and the last sentence actually said that I was not drunk, which I had never tried to get away with!

Anyway, the police seemed to be very much on our side. He told me that the guy should be appearing pretty soon in front of the Magistrates, the case should get forwarded to the Criminal Court (where Chris and I might get called to give evidence) and that I should apply to the Criminal Injuries Compensation Board where I might expect to get about £400 in roughly a year's time. After he had gone the nurses came back in, gave me some description of my injuries, and told me not to look in a mirror for a few days. Of course as soon as I was alone I did look in a mirror, which was a mistake. I looked as if I had gone face first through a car windscreen, and was not a pretty sight which upset me somewhat.

The next day I felt like eating something, and the day after that they let me out of bed. On Saturday a nurse who had not seen me since Wednesday did not recognise me because my face was so much better. By Sunday I felt alright, so they transferred me to another ward, and let me go on Monday. It does not sound too bad bad put like that, but being in hospital needlessly was no fun (especially never having been in before), it is boring because nothing ever happens.

Those are the facts, now I feel obliged to say something about how it has affected me. I am still off work, and expect to be for some time, in actual fact it may get me an extension on my current job. I think I now have some vague idea of how it feels for a woman to get raped. It has changed my personality; I am now much less likely to make smart-arse replies to strangers, and to quite honest am not too keen on going out after dark particularly on my own. 'How long this will last, and what the final affects will be?', is a mystery which I would much rather not have to answer. I still have to go to the dentist, and am returning to the hospital as an outpatient next week. I may have to have an operation on my nose in future. I contemplated suicide in hospital, and the whole thing has depressed me more than I can say. Please take care all of you, and I will keep you in touch with further developments.

13/10/83

When I get around to it, what happened subsequently.