Firstly, here is another episode for the sick anonymous critics to add their nauseating comments to. To the vast majority of readers I apologise for the above remarks, because I know that you are normal, sane, healthy people who would only criticise because there is something in the story to criticise.
I ended my last chapter where I had just begun to represent an educational publishing house and mentioned my very close involvement with someone who was some fifteen years younger than I was.
My work consisted mainly in visiting schools, especially primary schools, but also in attending or even organising book exhibitions for these teachers to visit.
This work was quite rewarding, socially as well as professionally, and being away from home gave me opportunities to stray, although I must confess that I did not stray too often unless circumstances gave me the opportunity. But mainly I gathered and stored titbits of incidents which called out for expansion into stories. Some of them happened exactly the way I described them in my stories, but others were embellished considerably via my imagination.
One of these occasions arose when I was visiting a secondary school and had asked to see the Special Needs teacher. To my surprise, and much to my delight, she turned out to be a woman with whom I had become friendly whilst still at college. Penny had been teaching prior to going to college, and afterwards I visited her whilst she was a student in another teacher training college. We seemed to have a lot in common then, and I did also meet her on occasions after we had both qualified, but these meetings gradually died out.
We naturally remade each other's acquaintance and I visited her quite a few times whenever I was in the area. This is when she told me, as we were having a quiet drink one evening, that for the past four or five years she and a very close friend of hers, Janice, whom I also knew from my college days, had holidayed in the Greek Islands together, but without their husbands. She said that neither of their husbands had any wish to go abroad, and they had mutually agreed that the two "girls" could holiday in this way. Mind you, this was before the days of "Shirley Valentine"!
Next time I met her I had a pleasant surprise. As had become usual, we had arranged for a drink together in the evening, completely with her husband's knowledge, as he knew that we were old friends and I had actually visited them in their home. During this particular evening, though, she started to expand on the Greek Holiday, and had actually brought some photos to show me.
There was nothing remotely sexual about the pictures, though, other than the fact that they both wore very small bikinis in some of the pictures, until I noticed one that must have slipped her attention, for as soon as she saw what it was she hastily snatched it back from me.
They were both topless in this picture, together with an Adonis of a man standing between them, and with arms around each other's backs. Their bikini bottoms were even smaller than the previous pictures, seemingly with more string than actual material!
At first she started to apologise for allowing me to see that particular photograph, but when I reassured her that I was not shocked in any way, she finally allowed me to see it once again, explaining that on their last holiday she and Janice had actually become friendly with two Greek boys, their Greek "toy-boys" she called them. More than that, though, she would not tell me. I often wonder how close to the truth my fantasy story about them was, as told in my story "Greek Island Encounter", although naturally I had changed their names.
My story about the "Headmistress" was also based on fact. I had gone into an infant school and had knocked on the Head Teacher's door, as was the usual thing to do in those days. A voice inside called me to come in, and I was greeted by the sight of a fairly young (for a Head Teacher) woman who was squatting on the floor, sitting on her ankles, knees well apart, as she tried to pick up some straws which had evidently fallen onto the floor. I was treated to a vision of stocking tops, suspenders and a particularly wide open display of her lacy knickers before she realised that I was not one of her infants, and she clambered to her feet, quite embarrassed.
I pretended that I had seen nothing, and calmly introduced myself as if I was completely unaware of her recent display. I must admit, though, that she quickly recovered and after a few awkward moments she continued as if I had only just entered the room.
I went through my spiel, and then, as so often seemed to happen in these circumstances, we started to have a little chat, as was normal. She seemed a little more relaxed, but, as I was leaving, she did call out, "Please -- next time you call can you cough as you come in so that I know it is not one of my children?" I turned to her and saw that she was certainly more composed and was actually smiling. "After all," she added, "I do not make a habit of showing what is normally reserved for my husband's eyes only: At least -- not to every Tom, Dick and Harry."
Her face gave away the fact that she had not only fully recovered, but was actually seemingly amused. I have immortalised this episode in my story, "The Headmistress."
Book exhibitions meant that we representatives had a chance to meet one another again, as in spite of working for rival companies there was always camaraderie amongst us. There was always a lot of banter as well, as one can imagine, irrespective of the sexes.
It was when a few of us were enjoying a tea-break that the subject of blue films cam up. There had been a programme on TV the previous evening about this subject, and as we were chatting Mandy (as I called her in the story and I shall call her now to respect her privacy) said quite innocently, "I have never seen a blue film." No more was said, though, at the time, but later on as I met her in one of the aisles she brought the subject up again. "Have you ever watched a blue film?" she asked. I nodded, thinking no more about it, other than to tell her that there were cinemas (of a kind) which showed such films here and there throughout the country. Mandy, though, seemed determined to pursue the subject, and asked me if there were any in the town where we now were. I knew that there was one, and told her so, then cheekily I asked her if she would like to go to see such a film with me.
To my surprise she took me up on the offer.
That evening saw us together, and as I said in my story, it happened to be "couples night". The story, though, was very much embellished, for apart from heavy petting (as it is sometimes called) we went no further. In any case, we worked for completely different companies and only met at long intervals. Also, I did not really know her apart from her being an acquaintance and noticing that she was wearing a wedding ring.
There was one particular book exhibition, though, which will always remain engraved in my memory.
It was to take not far from Patricia's home town, and Pippa, (my wife's sister) now 30 years of age, had recently suggested that we come and stay with her for a few days as she had just bought a two-bedroom flat. This would be an opportunity for me to stay somewhere far more homely than the eternal hotel scene which surrounds the life of a rep. So Patricia called Pippa and suggested that I might stay with her for the three days involved, although she herself would be unable to come as she had too many standing commitments.
Pippa seemed to hesitate, but agreed and said that she was looking forward to my coming.
I duly arrived, and was greeted warmly by Pippa by her usual intimate kiss.
"I'll show you round the flat, first," she said to me, and took me round the dining-room-cum kitchen, the lounge where there was a sofa, two chairs and a Television set. She then took my to the "second bedroom" where I had assumed I would be sleeping, but which was obviously being used by someone else, judging by the state of the room. "I have a lodger, Nerys. She is Welsh," she explained. "She is due home from work at any time, but I am sure you will get on with her when you see her. So you will not be able to use this bedroom as you probably expected. But my bed is a double one, too, and perhaps we can make up for what did not happen when I stayed with you after leaving school!"
I looked at her in some surprise, but she countered this with a laugh.
