Early summer morning.. stood on the kerb waiting.. dressed in white flared trousers, brightly coloured jacket, pink shoes, a folded umbrella. The finishing touch being a huge Stetson cowboy hat I had bought in L.A... Why chosen this bizarre outfit, hardly know. Maybe it simply reflected my mood... My first venture away without any strings, ties, no woman in any aspect .. nowhere..
A police car stopped opposite, relatively little traffic so early.. the police, nothing to do other than wonder what this thing was, obviously soliciting on the corner of Clapton Common... it simply, to them, did not look right and they had seen all the scenes. Could hear the gang laughing, the cab trundling up the road.. pulling me in before the police did.. Well, everyone laughing ..what more?
Berni, almost choking: "What the Fuck 'ave you got on there Peta!!" Coughing.. spluttering.. All falling about. Six of us and our junk jammed in . We were "Off to see the Wizard". Somewhere high in the deep blue skies above.
Someone insisted that we stop at their favourite "Good pull up for Carmen".. Of course I was pushed up front to get the teas and bacon sandwiches.. Really kids out of school could not have laughed and larked about so much as us old men.. We had escaped! Albert from Shirley.. Bernie from Audrey. Jimmy from his dominating old woman.. Johnny from Rose and her total silence, Fred, how he had escaped from his menagerie we had no idea. I had escaped from myself.
Closer we approached Heathrow the worse we became, the cab rocking and rolling it's way along the road. Must have looked a weird bunch in Number Three Terminal.. did get some odd glances from the so prim, so proper, young female staff in their smart uniforms, our eyes devouring each inch of them.. We had somehow managed to emerge from the underworld.. the other World of dirt, noise, stress and darkness.. we looked it.
The airplane, very big. We were scattered down the aisle, the gang aft .. smoking.. Found myself next to a woman, no one either side of us, the plane quite empty.. After take off they all casually sauntered down to see my little game.. I was feeding her from a large bottle of Southern Comfort.. she showed sufficient interest to go back and talk to them, agreeing to give them all a blow job once things settled down.. how she was talked into this ..hardly know.. another Soss? Very well dressed, expensive, well spoken female, going to visit her Husband in Delhi .. some kind of manager for Colman's Mustard..
Once the blankets came out the lights went down she and I went into a clinch.. then into the Six mile Club. Suppose we were in there for about 500 miles, our bodies jammed tight together in the confined space.. some contortions were needed.. she evidently knew all the moves, all the positions.
Back in our respective seats, realised between us had sunk a full bottle .. she passed out.. cold. Bernie and Jimmy arrived ..too late! What they called me is not repeatable! Never stopped moaning about it....kept reminding me and telling any else who would listen what a "Shnorra" I was ! But this was to be only the first of my beating them to the draw throughout that trip.
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