It was a wet February morning when a very naive young man arrived in the West London area of Hammersmith. It was still winter and the smogs that descended in those days were thick, dirty and damp. Traffic duty on the Broadway was not easy, the buses would have to be 'Walked' across the various junctions as one could see virtually nothing in front of an outstretched hand. Far away was the fresh air and crisp frosty weather of the Lake District, a far cry from the baying of hounds hunting down foxes as they raced across the fells followed by the hunt looking for a 'Kill'. Just like the fog a stark reality descended. This was now home. In recent times a number of older men had entered the job. They were experienced, having been exposed to the harsh realities of life during war. If one watched, listened a young constable would not go far wrong. If he worked hard, knuckled down there was no reason why this young officer could not become one of the most capable and competent officers in the force. After all, it was his dream.