Whilst reading my brother’s new book “Dave Anthony’s Moods: This
Obscure Group”, on page 27 I read a paragraph which triggered a memory
from my days of still living “at home”, back in the late 1950’s in Bournemouth. I was
probably about 19 years old.
I recall going to a party on the other side of Bournemouth –
a group of us used to meet in the bar of a Bournemouth
hotel (whose name escapes me) most Saturdays after watching the local rugby
matches, and an impromptu party would be established, dependent on whose
parents were out I suspect. I normally
declined and got the bus home but this one Saturday decided to go. I must have rung my parents and I’m sure my
father offered to pick me up around 11 pm but whatever had happened I was
offered a lift home by one of the boys in our group. This was kind of him as he
then had to drive back across the town to get home.
I think it was probably around 2am when we reached my house
and I felt it only polite to ask if he would like a coffee before setting off
back across Bournemouth. He accepted and we went into the lounge. There was no romantic attachment or
attraction in the slightest between us and I was genuinely being polite! Also, bear in mind that the lounge was
directly beneath my parents’ bedroom so there would be no hanky panky, even if
we were that way inclined.
However, within about 5 minutes of being in the house, my
father appeared at the lounge door and ordered the poor young man out of the
house. I have a picture in my mind of my father standing there, arm
outstretched to the front door, finger pointing as he hustled the poor boy
out. I also have a mental picture of my
mother, halfway down the stairs in her dressing gown and hair net, making sure
he was gone before berating me for inviting someone of the opposite sex in to
the house at that time of night. I
suppose it was their Victorian upbringing but it was very embarrassing at the
time.
I think the young man, whose name was Nigel I recall,
avoided me at all costs after that.
PS Tim’s book is available on Amazon
So you got as far as page 27?! That counts as a good review. Thanks for the plug.
ReplyDeleteGreat story, how embarrassing! I remember my sister being taken out by the son of family friends and my father paced the floor all evening, clearly not trusting him at all. My mother was much more relaxed about it.
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