Tranford Tales - Freddy

I weren't always an old geezer, you know. Oh no, Ready Freddy they called me in the Palais de Danse, and I did pretty well with the girls. Until we went a bit far and I got Betty in the family way.

To be honest, nobody were upset much. She were an absolute corker, so me Dad told me I'd done well to grab her. She said I weren't bad looking meself. Her family seemed to think I were all right, having finished me engineering apprenticeship and got me papers.

At our wedding she were nineteen years old, pregnant and proud of it. I thought she were the most beautiful thing I ever seed, and folks was saying the same.

Dad said once you've started her off you may as well carry on. It don't hurt the baby none and she'll tell you when it's uncomfortable.

"You'll have plenty of years wearing a rubber overcoat," he said. "So trying for a babby or when she's already up the duff is the best. Your Mam loved being preggers. Said if it weren't for the sprogs she'd do it all the time."

Dad were a navy man. Sprogs is one of his navy words meaning babbies or new recruits.

What he didn't know was that we was gonna be in the Swinging Sixties! When she got the pill it were goodbye to rubber jonnies. Still, the best were when she was off the pill and we were trying for another, because she were keener. Actually it were when we wouldn't mind, but no hurry. So we used the rhythm method a bit like the Catholics, tossing me off or using a jonnie on the days you wasn't supposed to put it in. The Pope approved because it gives God a fair chance, so they get plenty of babbies. It worked for us!

It were also great when we'd leave our little daughter with her Nan, and go off dancing. In mini-skirt or hotpants, Betty were still a corker and I could see the lads fancied her. She sometimes flirted a bit, and I got really randy and really proud.

Better than sliced bread were my Betty, better than anything ever. I do miss her.

Kids of course took up a bit of a time. Afterwards we got a bit more staid, I suppose you'd call it, and took up with ballroom dancing. We'd had our honeymoon in Blackpool and took the kids there every year for holidays until they started to have their own ideas. I guess it was the Blackpool ballroom that got us started on holiday. We actually got a few medals for dancing.

Maybe it were the dancing which helped her keep in shape. I needed to work off her home cooking! She could cook as well as me Mam, proper Lancashire scran. She were a cracking wife and mother.

We was dead chuffed when the kids was older and we got a car! Obviously it helped with the dancing, and we even got to a national semi-final in Blackpool.

Betty retired at 60 as women used to have to do then, but she were still lovely, despite having had four sprogs, as Dad would say! I might not have been as ready as I used to was, but she were still a right sexy piece in or out of bed. No jonnies needed, of course! I were a lucky man and there was others what said so, too!

Summat right funny happened then. She started to make some pin money as a dominatrix! And don't think we didn't know what that was. We was from the sixties, remember, when it all the sex stuff kicked off. We didn't do nowt kinky, mind, but we heard about it.

Anyways, she used to get these women's magazines and they had some quite rude stuff in between cookery and fashion. There were a bit about a woman who was a dominatrix. Anonymous, of course, but Betty recognised the curtains and some bits on the mantelpiece, and went round to see her. Apparently she made a packet and offered to pass a few of the tame ones Betty's way, if she wanted.

Well, I tell you Betty were still hot stuff, even forty year on, so it really got her interest. I agreed so long as it went no further than tossing him off. She said it were mostly telling him he's rubbish and spanking him with a sort of paddle she got off of her friend.

Thinking about it, she weren't never hard on me, but she had quite a tongue on her when she wanted, so she could probably do a good telling off.

She fixed up an old dancing dress where the skirt had got damaged as a costume, and put on some severe makeup when she had an appointment.

Of course the stockings and suspenders helped. She wore tights when it were fashionable, but soon went back to stockings because she knew I liked it. Tell me a man who don't! A woman in a short skirt moving around so you sometimes get a glimpse is really sexy.

I'll tell you summat else. She didn't shave down below. Kept it trimmed, like, but nowt stupid like them Brazilian women.

She says she didn't want to look like a kiddie. She were a grown woman and proud of it. I were proud too.

Actually she were sufficient proud to go out sometimes with no knickers. I reckon she must of made a fair few lads' day, giving 'em a glimpse under a short skirt. Not bad for a pensioner!

I guess that were it. She was so proud of being a woman, and knew I liked men fancying her, that's why she were a gradely dominatrix.

Actually it were a tidy sum she made eventually. I didn't want to know the details, but she certainly enjoyed it. And I quite liked thinking of my beautiful wife slagging off some man then giving him a wank while I were at work or down the pub. After I retired a few years later I would make myself scarce down the old people's club or the library when she had one during the day.

But a lot of it were just doing housework. I never washed up. She said a man in a little skirt or pink nightie would do it later. I don't know about the spanking.

We had a wonderful marriage. It were a few months gone our golden wedding when she passed on. Quite quick at the end, which were a blessing. She'd had to stop doing her dominatrix thing for a while before, but some of the men used to visit when she'd stopped, to wish her the best. Just for a few minutes, mind, so as not to tire her. I could see they was grateful, and she were quite fond of them, so I were glad for both.

Some came to the funeral. I didn't mind. I were glad she got a good sendoff.

Then I were on me tod, of course. No point mithering. There were others in the same boat, and I'd had a good run. Luckier than most. Fifty years with the most wonderful, beautiful woman. So I tried not to be a sourpuss like some of the other old geezers. I was also lucky in having me health. Not much in the way of aches and pains. I put it down to the dancing. I sometimes put on the right music and went through the steps imagining I was holding Betty again, just in private.

I give up the car, partly to save money but mainly because of me eyes. I walked a bit to keep fit, now I weren't dancing. There was a bit of company with other old gits and a lad with a minibus called Bob used to take us places. Him and me always used to have a go at each other, me being from the red rose county and him being from Yorkshite as we call it. It weren't serious, though.

I expected that would be it for the rest of my life, until Tranford happened. Let me tell you.

There was a nice little village pub called the Tranford Arms that me and Betty used to like to visit. Then it closed down and I never thought of it again, until someone mentioned that it was opening again. A week or so later, I were going to my usual alehouse when I saw one of the barmen called Alf with a red-headed woman, and asked him who his lady friend was. It turned out it was the other barman in a dress! My eyes aren't that good, but I could see it was, though not looking bad for a lass. Ginger we called him. Alf said they were going to run the Tranford Arms. Because the folks wanted a man and a woman, Ginger had dressed the part, and his cheek had got them the tenancy!

No-one believed me, of course.

Anyways, it took them a while of course, but the Tranford Arms opened again, and I got Bob to run a group of us old geezers across one Friday. Ginger had really gone for it, and were acting as cook and waitress, showing his legs.

Best of all, I found he or she knew Lancashire home cooking, and could talk the talk though she didn't usually have the full accent from having worked all over the place.

There was other women who was men dressed up, or had been converted, I don't know. It weren't a complete surprise to me, of course, knowing about some of Betty's customers.

There were a whole new estate and it included what they call trans people. Men who live as women and women who live as men. It were amazing how quickly you got used to it. They was just folks and very nice -- nothing kinky, really.

Then the couple what looks after the community centre, Hannah and Bernie, started to run ballroom dancing lessons and I got roped in to help. Nothing and no-one can replace Betty, of course, but it were good to move round the dancefloor again with a partner in a dress. Ginger's cooking is pretty good, and she's looking all right these days since she got some tits.

I've been a bit lonely since the coronavirus come. Bernie was one of the first to catch it, and it nearly killed him, so we was warned. One of the Tranford folks is a nurse, Sophie she's called. Or him, I ain't never sure. Anyways, we was told not to believe the politicians -- which weren't that hard, really -- and treat it like a dangerous disease. I think all the Tranford folks and most of the visitors has been social distancing before it were the fashion.

Alf and Ginger said they'd rather lose our custom than lose customers, which were grand of them, since they really need the brass. I miss the pub, but it's for the best.

My kids got me an iPad thing, so I keep in touch with them and with some other folks. It's not the same as chatting in the pub with a pint, though. Me granddaughter thought it would be too hard for me, and I admit I were flummoxed a few times, but you don't get to be an articled engineer nor a workshop foreman if you can't get to grips with technology.

My mate Bob had a brilliant idea, and we've discussed it with Alf and Ginger. They've got rooms at the pub, so when it's safe I'm going to move in! All I really want is me own bed and lavvy, and a TV, of course. The rent'll help the business, and I'll get a proper hot meal from Ginger every night. I can manage for meself, but she does good lanky cooking, and it's nice to be served by a woman. I'm not looking for anyone to replace Betty, but it'll be nice to see the Tranford wives again, and dance with a few.

And living in a pub!

(Bob says he might join me when he retires in a couple of years, which would be champion.)