Joe Aspinall started his nomadic life in 1938 just outside of London in Ashford, Middlesex, but spent his early years in a Catholic convent in Aldershot: “My mother was all religion, religion, religion,” he says, still hurting from the memory.
He knew nothing of his father but discovered through research that he was a “skilled fitter”, and adds: “I reckon he was definitely called up for the war… I’ve had little contact with any relatives, so I’ve always been on my own and pretty much become dysfunctional.”
At school, Joe enjoyed geography and history and was a good cricket player. He remembers that every Sunday the children were allowed to make their own way back from mass in a church two miles away: “I was always the first one back for bread and jam and a cup of tea, so I became a decent runner, too.”
Adoption never worked out for Joe so his whole childhood and education was at the convent, and when he reached 15, he had to leave. With no family to take him in and nowhere to go, the social services placed the teenager in a Working Men’s Hostel until he was 18.
His first job was as a page boy in the Mayfair Hotel in Piccadilly and recalls the American guests being good tippers, but with few skills, Joe was soon going from job to job: “I wanted some action. So, rather than wait for National Service to call me up, I went and signed on for nine years with the RAF… I chose nine years because the wages were better and, after basic training, I did a full tour of Cyprus where I was on duty when an aircraft hangar was blown up – I’ve got a medal for that tour.”
After a few years in the Mediterranean, Joe spent time back in English barracks until there was an emergency in Malaya and the RAF wanted to send him there. “I’m very thrifty and it’s easy to save in the services so I had quite a bit of money saved up; I didn’t fancy two years ‘jungle bashing’ so I bought myself out for two hundred quid.”
He pauses and lets his mind journey back. “If I’d been given a clerical job I would have stayed,” he adds.
Senior Aircraftsman Aspinall has a little chuckle at this before continuing.
“Having no family, I walked out of those gates for the last time and immediately felt lost. I got a train to London to see my mother but soon realised there was nothing between us.
Relatedarticles
“I’d been institutionalised from the age of five to 22, with three meals a day provided, so I wasn’t really suited for civilian life. I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t have any real skills, so I got work as a cellarman in Oxford Street,” says Joe.
Leaving the RAF with a couple of grand – a lot of money in the early 1960s – led Joe into gambling. “When I was winning I loved it, at the dog tracks meeting all the characters there but eventually it led to health problems… From about that time, I was going from job to job to job.”
While drifting about in his orphan-like world, Joe knew he had more to offer so, in his 40s, he enrolled on a modular degree course at the City of London Polytechnic. It did not lead on to the work in the Probation Service that he had hoped but he wanted to prove something to himself. “I passed with a 2:2,” he announces proudly.
Later in life, aches and pains made Joe think about doing something else with his time, so entered a running race with the Veterans Athletic Club (VAC), a decision that has turned into a lifelong passion, earning him many awards for his endeavours.
At 85, Joe is now the oldest member of VAC: “I’m breaking records for club races and park runs,” declares this veteran athlete.
“I hold lots of age-related records going back years that have still not been broken,” he says before reeling off a list of running records that he broke aged 55, 65, 75… He stops for a breath. “10k is my max these days.”
He recalls a running club that formed in the Blacksmith’s Arms in Rotherhithe where they would do a circular run from the pub that included running across Tower Bridge.
Joe is a collector and has records of races he has run going back decades, army memorabilia from the 1950s, still in pristine condition, as is a school report from even earlier.
He still has a 1956 Manchester United programme, which was his hero Bobby Charlton’s first game, and he saw the England legend’s last game there in 1973. When he died in 2023, Joe was invited to LBC to talk about Sir Bobby.
As well as becoming a record-breaking runner, Joe also took up long-distance walking, mainly in Scotland. “I like the outdoors and loved the wildness of the Highlands… Being happy in my own company is probably the reason I never married,” reveals Joe. “I wanna be free.”
These days, Joe’s freedom comes from walks and runs in Southwark Park as he keeps fit for his weekly park runs around London’s green spaces.
Now, after living in Bermondsey for many years – Neptune Street, Marden Square – he has settled happily in “a nice place near The Blue” where he can often be seen warming up for his next record-breaking run.
As we said our goodbyes, Joe Aspinall did a few leg stretches, rolled his shoulders, tightened his backpack that carried the mementoes he had brought to the meeting and said: “I think I’ll run home while the weather’s nice.”
And with that, he was gone. And probably at another record-breaking pace.
