This series of stories will be titled 'I'm surprised I turned out as well as I did, given my childhood ...' 60

I'm really sorry this is late, but I have a note...

I've been working on a lady's story over the past week. It started out as a proofreading job, a matter of a couple of days' work at most. It turned out to be a bigger and fuller editing job with a strict deadline (which I had to extend a couple of times). It's a delightful, heart-warming and heart-wrenching story and I'll be looking forward to the release. Having said that, once I'd finished the job and sent it off to the publisher, I went into complete collapse and realised 7 full days of extreme concentration had taken its toll on me and I took the afternoon off.

Here it is, then... the 60th memoirs post... Enjoy!

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Sunday was always a long, tiring day. I got home from work at around 3am (sometimes later) on Sunday morning, and had to be up, dressed, washed, etc etc… and back at work by 09:30 to help prep the Sunday lunches, standing up all day, fetching, carrying, peeling, chopping veg, washing and scrubbing pots, pans, plates, cups and dishes, all day with not much time to eat. I worked the same times as my mother and she was the first in, last out.

To say I was shattered and ready for not much (including school) for the rest of Sundays would be an understatement.

Having said that, at around 6pm, when the phone rang, I knew it was Trev.

I actually did know it was him because we’d just been chatting on the CB Radio but the eavesdroppers etc were getting a bit much and so we took it to a more private conversation, via the landline.

I didn’t realise it then, but I made it difficult for him to ask, even over the phone.

Of course, my family all decided they needed to be in the living room all at the same time, whereas usually, if the CB Radio was unoccupied, my brother and sister and sometimes my father would all be on there, taking advantage of the free time.

So, while we had eavesdropping strangers over the CB Radio, I had to contend with eavesdropping family over the phone. I’m just thankful we didn’t have a second phone for them to listen to the other side of the conversation, too.

We played a little game of ‘Will you come out with me? No I’m tired’ for a little while. Then he asked if I’d thought about the question and would I go out with him.

I kept him worrying for a little while (I may have had some advice on that…) and I eventually said yes to going steady but no to going out that evening.

I'm pleased to say there was quite a commotion as a result of my answer. (Everyone... AWWWW!)

He insisted and he also got Mick (there with him) to phone Sara and get her to persuade me to go out.

On the proviso that we fetch Sara and we went out as a foursome, I agreed to go out.

Trev came over in his ‘car’ (in the UK you can drive a 3 wheeled vehicle on a motorcycle licence, as long as the reverse gear is blanked off).

He arrived at my house and I’d got changed (my jeans were still wet, they’d been on the radiator but hadn’t dried). As I waited for Trev to arrive, I spent my time ironing the damp jeans, trying to get them a little drier… and eventually, I figured they’d dry faster if I put them on – ugh!

Trev arrived… no time for introductions – plus embarrassment – I said bye and was gone.

Mick sat in the front seat of Trev’s car. He refused to sit in the back. He refused to even get out of the car and let me in the back. That front seat was his and he’d claimed it and he was NOT getting out, just in case I tricked him into relinquishing the seat and he got relegated to the back.

Good GRIEF!

Off we went to Sara’s to pick her up for this ‘double-date’.

When I knocked on the door, she opened it and said, “You’d better come in.”

That didn’t bode well…

Her mother was out but her sister was in – so was her boyfriend (Didn’t I mention Billy?) He was an old, difficult-to-dump-boyfriend from her other schooldays. Yeah, he’d been hanging around that long. He kept re-emerging and following her round like a love-struck puppy and no matter how many times she dumped him, he’d always come crawling back, begging, pleading and blackmailing her to go back with him.

She was too soft. She believed his threats to kill himself if she didn’t go back with him, plus, I think she had a secret fear of being left on her own. If she had Billy, she at least had someone when Mick couldn’t get out of his other commitments with his girlfriend – complicated? You betcha!

Sara’s older sister wouldn’t allow Sara out with me because she knew Sara would be going to Mick. She wouldn’t let her out while Billy was in the house and Billy wouldn’t leave while Mick was sitting outside in the car because Mick would ‘kick his head in’ Billy’s words… I’m pretty sure Mick wouldn’t have, but Billy refused to leave and that was his excuse and boy, did he stick to it.

Eventually, I left Sara at her house and I got back in the back of the car – seriously… that was one strong ‘Bro-mance’ going on there.

Off we three went. I don’t remember where we went on that evening, but I do remember where we ended up. I remember because it’s etched deep into my memory with the honed tool of embarrassment.

I was sixteen, ready (almost) to spread my wings and learn how to fly and I endured THE most embarrassing evening of my entire life.

Up until that evening, I had managed to pass myself off as not quite that geeky, gawky ginger kid, but as a shy, yet feisty teen just blossoming into adulthood. In other words, someone at least slightly interesting to the opposite sex – for a change!

Hey, guess what? I’m going to tell you that story tomorrow. Don’t worry, much as it pains me, I’ll not leave out one gory, embarrassing detail. I’ll tell this in all its ridiculous, humiliating, excruciating splendour.

My family – every single generation, from both sides, paternal and maternal, were out to get me and make sure I died an old maid – or at least died of awkward discomfort.