My good friend RS was waiting for me at Stansted Airport with his yellow Triumph Stag (1973). I was very impressed.
It was a great start but unfortunately as we took off for a spin around the Essex countryside. It began to rain and whilst a lot of it went over the top of our heads, as regular users of sports cars will understand, it wasn’t the cosiest of journeys. Rod offered me a rather jaded baseball cap from the back of the car but as we sped along there was no question of stopping to put up the roof. It’s not every day I get the privilege of being the passenger in a sports car so despite the weather I was happy if a little damp.
RS, however, was not so happy when he viewed the above picture and writes to tell me that he was wearing the wrong trousers: Looking at the photograph of the two of us with the car I thought that my trousers were looking rather bedraggled. I checked them out last night and found that the label indicates the inside leg measurement of 31″. Well I am 29″ so I asked my sister about it and when she looked she said you’ve got Eric’s trousers. Her husband Eric is 31″ What a laugh, so I was wearing a pair of trousers that were 2″ too long. What a twit. My sister had put Eric’s trousers in my wardrobe by mistake. I certainly didn’t notice RS’s sartorial slip up at the time which was just as well.
At the Three Willows in Birchanger we awaited the rest of the ‘old boys’. They didn’t know I was coming and amazingly three of them knew who I was. For my part I found it difficult to put a name to most of them and some of them I didn’t know at all. They were all three years ahead of me at school. It was great to hear how their careers had developed and also about their wives.
All the men except RS were married. One of them said he had declared himself celibate in 1983. He didn’t say what his wife thought of that and over the skate and chips it didn’t seem appropriate to pursue the conversation although I would have loved to. How do you ‘declare’ celibacy and to whom? I will definitely explore that line of questioning if I am asked again.
Sid recalled that I used to sing There was I waiting at the church and someone else remembered me reciting Two Little Girls in Red. My party pieces haven’t changed and my family get great amusement out of listening to their cockney matriarch.
The ‘old boys’ are now determined to find more ‘old girls’ to come to the next reunion and our good friend RS will no doubt do his best to round them up. Next time with the right trousers and the roof up.