Very strange, but I cannot recall much about the first time at painter school. Just that the teacher was a bit of a nutcase, like a small Adolf Hitler and liked to shout at people.
I spent six months on the course with a lot of Dutch workers and Welshman Steve, who was a bit of a randy gigolo. He would shag anything that moved, so much so, I would never bend down in front of him for fear of getting mounted. We did a six-month course and were guaranteed a job. I was sent to a company in a place called Warmenhuizen. It is 12 kilometres north of Alkmaar, but they picked me up every morning in a work van.
We did a six-month course and were guaranteed a job. I was sent to a company in a place called Warmenhuizen. It is a town 12 kilometres north of Alkmaar, but they picked me up every morning in a work van.
It was a bit of a boring year, all I can really remember is joining a cover band, with my workmate. It was good at first because we did the Stranglers and Dr Feelgood, etc., But after a bit, they wanted to do the Rolling Stones and less punk, so I quit. The band did have my name: Stevie & the Sandlesniffers….I don’t think we would have gotten many wedding gigs ha ha ha.
I also did a lot of cycling with the foreman after work, which was cool
After that year, I returned to school, where I met up Steve and a few of the Dutch classmates and this year we were joined by this huge Irishman, who’s name, unfortunately, evades me. He was a big hard fucker.
Again, I can’t remember much about the time at school, except a Turkish fucker who wanted to drive us to and from school every day, but we had to give him all the travel money we got. We said we’d give him half, but he wanted it all. So we told him to fuck off and just got the train. It was early starts, but I wasn’t gonna satisfy that scamming bastard.
I also remember one job me, Steve and the big Irishman got sent out on…it was for our training and I think the teacher made money on it. It was a job in the unemployment building in the centre of Amsterdam. It was mayhem and I can remember the girls of that office saying.”Even though we don’t speak good English, we understand what you 3 are saying.” Well, that wasn’t too difficult because every second word was either fucking or bastard or cunt, ha ha ha, it was swear central. Totally brilliant.
I vaguely remember the Irishman was gonna spray the walls but hadn’t screwed the lid of the machine on correctly and it flew off and luckily missed him, but there was paint every place. Steve and I couldn’t stop laughing, to the annoyance of the Irishman.
We did, however, finish the job on time and after cleaning up, we left. The next day we returned to pick up the gear and scratched on the newly painted was a message., saying: Where are you? It seems that Adolf the painting instructor had come to see us and more than a little pissed off that we had left early. We explained we were finished, but it was to no avail mien Fuhrer was having nothing of it. It was all we could do from stopping the Irishman from ripping his head off, he went apeshit and told the imitation Hitler where to go and stormed off. He had already told us he had plans to start for himself and didn’t give a shit about what the unemployment would say.
The courses finished and because the company in Warmenhuisen didn’t want me back, Steve got me a job with the company he worked at and so the mayhem of ‘De Visser’ years was about to begin.
To be continued in DAY 2