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It was a hard life and one day I took the opportunity to leave from an unlocked external door.
The workhouse was a long way from London, but I was sure I'd be able to make a life for myself there if only I could get there.
I slept in barns on my way and after several hungry days I arrived on the outskirts. I had a vague idea of getting to Piccadilly. I was sure there would be cafés there and was confident I could feed myself and make a living.
In those days London was not the city with underground trains we know today, but it was still remarkable in comparison to the small town where the workhouse was located.
Soon I spotted another boy of a similar age, who, like me, was looking for food and work.
"What's your name? Haven't seen you here before," he started. He was William and had jet black curly hair and blue eyes, a handsome boy. He was very friendly and offered to let me come back with him to his house. That was quite a relief, as I didn't want to continue sleeping rough.
The house wasn't far, near Baker St. The lady who opened the door was a strange sort. She introduced herself as Mrs Thompson, but she was so solid-looking you'd think she was a man.
William took me up to his small room at the top of the house. He gave me some bread and cheese and we prepared for bed.
I was wanting to spunk up and my thing was getting hard. Williams spotted the lump in my underwear. "I want to spunk up, too, but don't do it, as you'll be needing your spunk tomorrow."
This seemed to be an odd thing to say, and he explained, "Have you ever spunked up with another boy?"
I told him about Andrew. "Enjoy it?" I said I had.
"Well, that's good as that's how we make our living here." What on earth could he mean? It made me a bit nervous, but I was tired and fell asleep soon after.