Date: Wed, 21 Jan 2004 22:46:43 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening: Part 88
Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws
of your country or district please desist. If you are a bigot or
prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking
literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to
yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is
true, is true: what is not is otherwise.
Thank you to all who have e-mailed me. If you haven't sent a message I
would be pleased to hear from you.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 52
Vignettes from my Life
1. July 1952 - December 1952
Daniel was really happy as he was again to spend the summer in England. As
France closed down for August he said he would have been bored stiff. I
said I was under the impression he liked to be bored, stiff. His only
response was a playful punch on the arm and "Tonight?".
Our usual routine was followed, so, laden with various packages,
including a consignment of foul French cigarettes for Tony and very
expensive French perfume for Ma and Mrs Marcham, we left for Merrie England
on a hot July day and roasted our way up to London on the usual sweltering,
overcrowded and slow train from Dover. I loved the flat at Albert Hall
Mansions. Ma and Pa were very happy there and having John and Tim Parker
living there was no hassle. John stayed quite a bit of the time across the
Thames where his girl-friend's parents lived. She was in the violin
section of the orchestra and when she stayed at the flat - blind eyes where
she slept - they and Tim played trios. John and Myfanwy planned to get
married next Easter. However, the great news when we settled down at the
flat for a chat was that Tim was now also at the Opera House. He had been
taken on as a rehearsal pianist and repetiteur. He was so happy. He said
that the sessions with Lady Bing had been so useful. He had learned a lot
of the basic repertoire and he'd been taken under the wing of an elderly
Italian conductor who always demanded he should accompany the singers when
he rehearsed.
While at the flat I saw the proof copy of Ma's next book, 'Death at
World's End'. That explained how she'd got my French typewriter. World's
End was a part of Chelsea and near the Fulham Road. I had the book taken
away before I had a chance to read more than the first couple of pages and
said I would be given one for Christmas. I said I would like one also for
Dr Blake who had copies of the others but I'd never told him they were
written by my mother. Another surprise for him!
I was rather restless to get to Kerslake but I had to let Daniel see
more of London. More meant revisiting all the usual sights such as
Buckingham Palace, St Paul's Cathedral and the Tower of London. More meant
buying useless souvenirs and having his photograph taken standing next to a
Beefeater at the Tower. More meant gawping at the very husky young
Guardsmen on their horses in Whitehall outside Horseguards Parade. Their
tight white breeches and high black leather boots and shiny helmets and
cuirasses were ogled at. I wondered if they would look as virile in
coney-skin jockstraps at one of Perce's cousin's parties? Wow, yes! The
one I was nearest to I thought would be best in a black one, with long
silky hairs, just waiting to be stroked! Ow! I had to drag Daniel away up
the road to see where Mr Churchill lived before my erection got too
noticeable.
*
Our arrival at Kerslake was welcomed with exuberance. Exuberance on
the part of two small jumping up and down figures as the taxi drew up in
the drive. If I thought Francis was voluble he was now overtaken by a
chattering James. Daniel laughed at Jacko trying to balance two
effervescent youngsters in his arms each gabbling away, an ear apiece.
Milly and Maggy were at hand to rescue me. In fact, I hardly recognised
Milly. She'd slimmed down, losing pounds of puppy fat and was now a rather
pretty sixteen year old, still horse- mad and leaving school to work at the
stables. I would have to keep an eye on Daniel as we didn't want any
French thoroughbreds being produced.
Daniel was commandeered by both lads and he loved it. He sat in the
garden with two rapt young boys perched on his knees as he read them from
their favourite book, Swiss Family Robinson. He read very well, hardly a
trace of a French accent, just that lovely fresh voice of his. As we lay
in bed that night I hugged him and stroked his back and said I hoped that
one day he would have sons.
"I would want sons like yours," he said before we started to make
long, passionate love.
*
For me July and the beginning of August was a time of waiting, of
indecision. I was in limbo. I had no job. I was well qualified. For
what? I wondered if I should contact Dr Morris and see if they had a
vacancy for a French teacher at my old school? Should I leave all that
behind and ask Mr Marcham for a job at the estate agency. Both he and Mrs
Marcham were very busy and I knew they needed staff. I didn't have Tony to
talk to. He was still at Garforth Hall, cataloguing, riding horses,
writing novels and masturbating twice a day, I assumed. A parcel did
arrive. Another book to translate for Mr Blane. The others I had done had
received good critical notices so I was acceptable in that role. This was
another of the quasi-religious ones which, so Mr Blane said in his letter,
were popular with the wavering Catholic readership. From the content it
seemed to consist mainly of self-help props to consciences worn down by not
confessing trivial sins.
*
In the first week of August I drove yet another new car of Mr
Marcham's up to Chester with Daniel, Maggy and the boys to stay with Aunt
Della and Uncle Edward so my grandparents could see the boys again. Julia,
now seven, took them over and Maggy said she felt quite redundant.
Aunt Della had a real heart to heart talk with me on the third day of
the visit. She was really worried about Lachlan. He hardly ever saw
anything of Audrey. The film she had made last year was a roaring success
in the States and it was being released over here in December. She was
back in Hollywood making another film and was now co-starring with top
names. Penny was at Audrey's mother's place in Surrey with a nanny looking
after her. Lachlan was like a lost soul. She knew I was a confidant of
his. Would I help?
I said when we last met he seemed somewhat withdrawn. He hadn't
confided in me and I would wait until he said anything. I said I knew
Lachs was a very strong person underneath but he needed support. If I was
the person to supply it he would ask. I smiled and said I wasn't shirking
my duty but when he needed me he would ask. She smiled and held my hand.
"You and my boys are very close, aren't you?" she said.
"We are," I said. "We are as one," I continued, echoing Lachs
statement about he and Sayed.
It wasn't to say I wasn't worried about Lachs myself. I knew there
was anguish there somewhere. But, Lachs, all in good time........
*
At the end of the week Daniel and I left James with Maggy and the
loving care of Julia and took Francis with us to fetch Tony from Garforth
Hall. We had planned to stay for three days but the visit stretched to
seven. As soon as we drove up to the imposing building Francis was out of
the car and taking charge. He eyed Travis and the footman and realised
they were his servants. He suggested that the footman should not try to
carry all the luggage but that Travis should assist. Butlers to noble
Lords don't usually carry suitcases for visitors, they direct others to do
so. Travis duly picked up a suitcase and marched off behind the footman.
"And tell that man there are more," came Francis's clear voice.
Neck-breaker Travis had met his match.
Daniel and I were still grinning at each other when Lord Harford came
round the side of the edifice accompanied by Tony, Charley and a large
wolfhound which I assumed was the sister of Finbar. As Lord Harford shook
hands with Daniel and me, the dog, or bitch as I noted, immediately went up
to Francis, sat on its haunches and lifted a paw.
Francis solemnly shook it and after that Lady Ethne was his constant
companion when roaming the estate.
"Good Lord!" was Lord Harford's response when he saw the happening.
"Never seen her do that before!"
Charley then explained that Bruce had taught the dog to do it but it
usually would only sit and do it for him. Francis also shook hands
solemnly with Lord Harford and Charley before his Lordship herded us
indoors, the dog obediently sitting outside, and Francis was introduced to
Lady Harford.
"I like your house," announced Francis, surveying the room, "Did my
granddad sell it to you?"
Travis appeared just as the laughter erupted.
"Did you bring my books in from the back seat?" came the imperious
tones of the new young master.
Sergeant-Major Travis recognised the voice of the Colonel-in-Chief of
the regiment.
"Yes, Sir," he replied imperturbably.
"Thank you," said young sir.
I had to do something to shut him up but he certainly was the star of
the show. In fact, Travis and the footman took him over. He went down to
the kitchen with them and we didn't see him again until it was time to put
him to bed. Bed was in my room. A small child's bed had been placed in a
corner of the huge room. I had the main bed to myself as we all had
separate rooms in the immense mansion.
Bruce was missing. He was courting! He had gone straight from
sorting out some problem for one of the tenants to another farm where the
daughter was ready to put her knee on his nightie once the knot was tied,
as Charley informed me and Daniel. Daniel liked the English idioms and
rather startlingly, for Charley at least, said it wouldn't apply to me as I
didn't wear a nightie in bed, I 'slept in the raw'. Another phrase he
relished. I thought, young man, careful what you say or I shall have to
squeeze your hefty young knackers when I get you in my bed again! Hefty
young knackers! They were and he was now nineteen years old and equipped
also with a hefty nearly seven inch Fontane cock! I came off best I
thought. Both Johann and Daniel on the Fontane line were well-blessed.
The Thomson line, if the endowments of my three cousins were a guide, was
also favoured genitally. I was on both lines and sure I now edged even
Gareth into second place. A smidgen over seven inches and nice hanging
balls to match. Not boastful, just vain! Must measure on my birthday as I
have done every year since I was fourteen! Anyway, Gareth was no slouch
either as a potent sperm producer as I well knew. Having got married at
the Easter his son Gareth Richard had been born in November 1951 and Amanda
Fay had followed this January. The first Thomson girl, other than Julia,
for generations! The Thomson tree was bearing fruit fast!
Over dinner I had to go over the family tree in detail. Lady Harford
said it was incredible and the nicest thing was that Mary Crossley had the
portrait. I must be proud of my ancestry. Oh dear! Jean-Antoine. A
pornographic plagiarist! Actually I was proud. But I wondered how he
wrote the stuff? Imagination or practical experience? Perhaps a little
more research. I knew Rousseau confessed to beating his meat and waving
his whang at young ladies. I had whiffs from my reading of an extensive
demi-monde of debauchery in Paris at the time. Given that the other books
were extant there must have been a parallel little, or perhaps not so
little, world for young men like George and Arthur, too. As it happened
they seemed to have spent more time in Paris and Florence in Italy from
their early teens than in England. Neither had gone to Oxford or Cambridge
but seemingly enjoyed their time away from England.
*
Both Francis and I slept soundly that night. He was awake early
though and I was sitting up in bed reading to him, with him beside me, when
Travis brought morning tea.
"I need to wee-wee," he announced, "but Daddy hasn't got anything on
so would you take me, please?"
I looked at Travis and we suppressed our grins.
I wondered how often Sergeant-Major Travis had to guide new
Second-Lieutenants to the latrines and see they withdrew their foreskins so
they didn't pee all over the floor. He took Francis off with such aplomb.
Francis was full of praise.
"Mr Arthur showed me where the lav was and I managed all by myself and
he let me pull the chain."
I grinned at 'Mr Arthur'. His name below stairs.
Later in the day I thanked Travis for coping with Francis and asked if
he was married as he seemed so adept at dealing with young children. He
looked me straight in the eye, "No, sir, and not likely to be, but I've
seen sufficient new recruits." Enough said.
Francis wanted breakfast so washed and dressed we were down choosing
from the extensive offerings when Bruce came in. Francis rushed to him,
was picked up and hugged. I didn't have to worry about entertaining
Francis for our stay after that. Nor Daniel. Travis was a bit downcast.
He hadn't been chosen for the British fencing team for the Helsinki
Olympics, but he and Daniel spent hours fencing together. Lord Harford
gave him full permission for this and in the afternoons would sit and watch
the pair. I preferred to explore the countryside with Tony and Bruce. I
found out that Tony was now quite an accomplished rider and went out with
Lord Harford first thing in the mornings before doing the library work. He
was putting the finishing touches both to the novel and his PhD thesis. Mr
Blane had said his reader wanted to see the whole novel but what she'd read
so far was more than acceptable. So Tony was spurred on.
We pulled Bruce's leg about being a lovesick swain. He was truly,
madly in love and now he'd proved his worth to his Lordship and had a
permanent position was intending to marry. We met Janet who was as nice as
Bruce and built with it. Big, round-cheeked and jolly. Tony said he hoped
it wouldn't be the height of frustration, two fat bellies and a short
prick, but, from what Bruce had said, Dr Tillotson's treatment had resulted
in a near normal maturity.
I helped Tony complete cataloguing another shelf of books. A motley
collection of herbals and such-like which Tony said could be quite valuable
from what he'd read in booksellers' catalogues. I scanned the rest of the
shelves and there, nestled between 'Morley's Journeys' and 'Hints on
Households' were two copies of Jean-Antoine's effort at plagiarism. Lord
Harford guffawed when he saw them and presented me with one.
"Not often you find your ancestor's grubby work. My
great-grandfather's were the human kind but yours is safely between the
covers of a book." He dug me in the side. "Pity he never had the other
one published, eh? Want a copy though in French and English bound up for
the library here. Lock and key for it though to keep the rascal's hands
off it!"
As the rascal was in attendance I didn't say he'd already read it and
confessed he'd had to have at least one wank. Thinking about it, I'd had
quite a few myself, especially when contemplating descriptions of young
Allan, lusty Robin, brawny William,.... OK! All of them!!
And that was all I'd had while at Garforth. With Francis in the room
my only consolation was my right hand. Daniel and Tony were the same. The
appearance of the butler early in the morning would have put paid to any
overnight stays. Still there was the rest of August and the beginning of
September before Daniel had to depart. And I still hadn't got a job.
Tony reckoned he would finish the cataloguing by Christmas and if his
thesis was acceptable he would probably have his viva in January or
February. Then he had to make plans, too.
*
We returned to Chester on the sixteenth. Lachs had been and had left
Penny and her nursemaid for an extended stay but he'd had to rush off
because of pressure of work. Aunt Della looked even more worried and
wasn't her usual chatty and witty self. Uncle Edward looked grim too.
Audrey had sent a message that pressing business meant she would be staying
on to tour before taking another promised role. She sent her love. But
then, Rhys had news of real love. He and his girlfriend were to be married
in October.
I liked Wendy. She was immune to Rhys' constant stream of wisecracks.
Tony said he'd never imagined a funny haha lawyer, funny peculiar, perhaps!
So that leaves only cousin Alun, my masturbatory mentor, masturbating alone
still?
*
Tony and I took turns in driving back to Kerslake on Monday. Francis'
only complaint was there were no kangaroos at Garforth and he and Lady,
Lady Ethne, had looked everywhere. He was sure they hopped out of sight
when they saw him and the dog coming. Could we go and see the kangaroos in
the London Zoo again and the penguins and James wanted to see them too?
Tony and I promised. Tony said we would take Daniel as well and put him in
the lion's den. The explanation of that ate up a good few miles with
Francis holding Daniel's hand and promising he would see he wasn't eaten,
he was too nice and Daddy and Uncle Tony were nasty to say things like
that.
That night young Daniel got gnawed first of all in all sorts of
interesting places. In fact we both gnawed each other having missed any
joint activities while at Garforth. In an interlude, he said he'd noticed
that Thomas, the footman, kept making excuses to check on Arthur and him
when they were fencing. Did I think they were boyfriends? I said I had
wondered too. Probably, from what Arthur Travis had said to me about he
was not likely to get married. If so, I guessed they practised parrying
and thrusting. I told him Charley had said that Thomas had been a corporal
under Arthur when he was CSM at the range. I gnawed Daniel's ear and said
I expect Thomas was under Arthur just like Daniel was under me at that
moment. Daniel responded by putting his legs up and round my back and
unerringly guided my epee, 'en garde' he whispered, and thrust upwards
himself.
*
Tuesday morning at eleven o'clock a telegram arrived. From the Master
of Clare. 'Please to report at 11 Thursday next 21'. Succinct, to the
point, words cost money, but what did it mean? Good job I was at Kerslake
as it was the day after tomorrow. Tony telephoned the Porter's Lodge,
fount of all information. Nothing known and Dr Blake was not in residence.
I knew Dr Blake was away with his sister somewhere in France for most of
the vacation and I doubted whether I could contact him. Tony asked if he
should come with me. I said no. Would he and Daniel keep the boys amused
and we would go up to the flat at the weekend and go to the Zoo.
So with some trepidation I caught an early train and arrived at the
Porter's Lodge just after 10.30. Davy was there, looking very important.
"Mr Roberts is in the Master's Lodge, sir," he said, "Please would you
wait in the Chapel until Mr Roberts is sent and to wear a gown."
The response to my raised eyebrows was a shrug of the shoulders.
Young Davy knew nothing. I said I hadn't brought a gown with me. He
opened a cupboard door and passed over an ancient graduate's gown, so old
it had a greenish tinge, plus a rather moth-eaten looking mortar-board.
I went to the Chapel and sat. I browsed through my bag. Suspecting
it was something to do with my thesis, probably being told I couldn't quote
the 'secret book', at least in my English translation, or to be told I
couldn't submit the same research for the Fellowship application., I had
brought all my notes and a carbon copy of the whole thing. I'd had to
submit three copies and the carbon of the fourth copy was pretty faint. I
also wanted to pee. I was getting rather het up. I heard the clatter of
boots and Willy appeared. He looked very serious and was in such a hurry
to get me to the Master's Lodge he had no time to answer any questions.
I was quickly ushered into the main room of the Lodge. A long table
had been set up just off the middle of the room. Seven gowned figures were
sitting there. As I entered they all stood up and bowed. Never
experiencing this before I, however, bowed back. Willy put a chair by my
side and went, closing the door noisily.
"I expect, Mr Thomson, you are wondering why you have been called here
so suddenly. Please sit," said the Master.
As I sat I scanned the row. The Master was there with the Dean beside
him. I recognised the don who had conducted my viva for finals, the one
who congratulated me on cheering up the old 'buffer'. There was a tall
angular clergyman, high white collar and a thin ascetic face. I'd seen him
riding an old-fashioned bicycle along King's Parade many times, I think he
was an archaeologist. I had been to lectures given by two of the others on
French and on German Literature. The seventh was small, red-faced and kept
darting his small, beady eyes between me and the documents in front of him.
I didn't know him at all.
The Master then introduced them all. The clergyman was the Reverend
Doctor Palfrey, I remembered the name as it was said. The last one was
introduced as Professor Johnson. The Master then went on in his precise
way to say that as it was a matter of urgency the board had been convened
to assess my application for a Fellowship. I was the only candidate and
the urgency was that if I was not appointed then the post would have to be
advertised and there wasn't much time before the new term began.
I rather shook my head in disbelief. I was the only candidate? I had
only applied because Dr Blake suggested it. Before I could say anything
the grilling began. The three Modern Language dons fired questions in
either French or German. Mainly about what I had been doing and reading
since being awarded my degree. They nodded benignly as I rattled off
impromptu answers to their questions. The clergyman then asked, in
beautifully accented German, where in Germany I had visited. I explained
that during the war I had stayed at Ulvescott Manor and had met two
Prisoners of War and had practised both my French and German. Also that
the POW with whom I spoke in French had heard of my grandfather who had
been a professor of theology in Strasbourg. I had visited Hans, the other
POW, in Germany in the company of a French and a Swiss cousin and a friend
who had been at King's. He nodded and the questioning passed to the don
who lectured in French. We now spoke in English and he asked about my
research submission for the Fellowship and was it the same as for
consideration for a PhD. I said the purpose of my Junior Research
Fellowship was to prepare for the doctorate. It was only recently it was
suggested I should apply for the Fellowship as well. The three copies of
my thesis were open on the table. I was then quizzed on everything
possible about it. Luckily, I could remember almost every page having
typed and corrected it. Then the red-faced don piped up.
"This appendix. I don't think that is acceptable. It is pornographic
and has no place in a work of scholarship." He shut his mouth primly and
looked round at the other dons.
There was murmuring and whispers between the three language dons.
Before they had a chance to say anything the clergyman don looked round at
the red-faced don.
"I found the appendix most illuminating and it is quite in keeping
within the historical context from ancient Egyptian papyri, Greek, Roman
and Renaissance literature and, if I am not mistaken, within the corpus of
your own early English literature," he said.
"But it's highly pornographic and should be cloaked in the obscurity
of the languages it was found in," the red-faced don expostulated.
"Come off it, Buffy," said the clergyman, "You weren't that prim when
I was your fag at school. I had to construe quite a few of the so-called
forbidden passages for you! More than a few, both from the Greek and from
Latin. If I'm not mistaken you took copious notes."
The red-faced don went even redder, then shut his mouth tightly.
I couldn't let this pass. "I am perfectly aware that it is highly
pornographic. This has concerned me quite considerably as I discovered
recently that Jean-Antoine Leferreur, the author of that 'secret book', was
my five times great-grandfather, but even so I think within the context of
the time and the general tenor of my thesis it is quite appropriate to
include it."
I enjoyed that moment. The dons looked at one another and in turn
smiled and it took everything for the Dean, especially, not to burst out
laughing.
The Master looked at me, a smile playing on his lips.
"Mr Thomson please stand."
I stood, rather shakily, put my mortar-board on and drew the gown down
around me. It was rather short.
The Master looked up and down the table.
"Decision, gentlemen," he said, "Placet or non placet?"
All the dons put their mortar-boards on and stood.
The Master indicated the don at the furthest end away from the
red-faced don.
He raised his square. "Placet."
Each don in turn repeated the gesture and the formula until the
red-faced don was reached. Unhesitatingly he raised his square and in a
very firm voice said "Placet".
The Master looked at me, raised his square, smiled and said "Placet.
May I be the first to congratulate our new Fellow."
He came round the table and shook me by the hand, followed by all the
rest.
"Sherry, gentlemen," was the next command. As if on cue, the hall
door swung open and Willy entered, carrying a tray of glasses, followed by
the red-haired buttery lad, Nick, with a tray of tidbits.
After that it was question time. How had I found out about the family
connection. I pulled out the lengthy and rather complicated family tree
from my bag and went through all the coincidences and the unravelling of
the connections. I said the clinching point was the strawberry birthmark,
in the same place, on three strands of the family. We all then went into
the dining hall where we had lunch accompanied by three or four other dons
who were always in residence. The whole time I was in a whirl. At the end
of lunch the Master said I would be hearing officially in a few days and Mr
Roberts, our new Head Porter, would show me my rooms now.
The red-faced don button-holed me as I left the hall. "Sorry about my
interjection. Said it to clear it as all right. Get my meaning?" He
smiled and shook my hand heartily. "Five times great-grandfather, eh?
Marvellous. You must publish that account. Let me know."
Willy was waiting for me at the Lodge with an attentive Davy. I
rushed up and hugged him. "Congratulations, Mr Roberts, it seems we've
both made it!"
Willy then showed me my rooms. The old mathematics don who had died
some time ago had left so much clutter, books and papers and no relatives
who wanted it, so there had been a free-for-all amongst the mathematicians
and at last all had been cleared. My three rooms, plus a newly fitted
bathroom because the old boy had been a little incontinent, were beyond my
wildest dreams. The shelves would look bare. I had amassed quite a
collection of texts, dictionaries and reference books but nowhere near
enough to fill even a quarter of the space. But there, in the middle of
the floor were three tea-chests addressed to me, packed with a selection of
books I could only have dreamed about possessing. A note on the top of one
chest just said, 'A few books surplus to my requirements. Congratulations,
William Butler'. How did he know?
I hugged Willy again. "I would never have survived if it hadn't been
for you," I said. I laughed. "Never get on the wrong side of a Porter,
eh? I hoped I never did!"
The biggest surprise of all was going through to the front of the
college. There in a row were, Ma, Pa, Francis, James, Mr and Mrs Marcham,
Tony and Daniel. I was hugged and kissed and congratulated on all sides.
A telephone call from Davy, primed by a signal from Willy at twelve
o'clock, had set part of it in motion. Ma and Pa were already on their way
as they expected great things. However, the others left Kerslake
immediately, driven by Mr Marcham at his usual breakneck speed. They had
just arrived as I emerged.
I had a job. I would live in college. What about my boys?
"Is this your house?" asked Francis, "It's bigger than ours and looks
nicer than Bobsy's."
'Bobsy's'? Oh, crumbs! Backstairs gossip from Garforth Hall.
"Only a bit of it is my house," I said.
"Can I look?" asked James, piping up for once against his more
garrulous brother.
Willy came out to greet us and shook hands with everyone, including
the two boys, as Pa introduced him. He led the way through and unlocked
the main door.
They all surveyed my quarters and were entranced by the view of the
Backs from the windows. I would need some furniture and pictures. I saw
Mrs Marcham pointing into the main room with Ma at one point. No chintz
curtains, I hoped.
Willy said in his sepulchral tones that the heavy curtains had gone
for cleaning and there would be a selection of suitable carpets for the
wooden floors. The desks and chairs could remain. As the two desks in the
room were old and very magnificent, but in need of a bit of polish, I said
they were most suitable. Could I have one of the blackboards removed,
though, I thought one would be enough? Willy nodded. He whispered to me
that there had been some jockeying amongst one or two of the other dons for
the rooms but the Master and Bursar had decreed they were for the new
Modern Language Fellow.
Daniel kept coming up to me with a huge smile on his face. "I am so
glad. You will be so very happy. I want to come and see you when you are
here."
It was a whirlwind after that. Pa and Ma said cheerio. Ma was in
tears, she was so happy, too. Pa said if I needed anything, let him know,
and he would also let 'Bobsy' know how I got on as he would be seeing him
at a meeting in the morning. "Bobsy!" he said as he grinned and left. My
son would be told not to tittle-tattle things he heard. But, at nearly
four!
Both Tony and Daniel slept with me that night. I was so euphoric I
can't remember what happened but none of us had much sleep. I fucked Tony
and Daniel fucked me and then, and then, and then......... Who cares?
Francis and James came in in the morning and found three snoring lumps.
One day perhaps they would know what it was to be so deliriously happy.
Letters to be written, telephone calls to be made. I rounded up old
school-friends, Tony, Nobbo, Cleggy, Kanga, Johnny Reed, Ned Carter, Benno
Crabbe, Jimmy Crabbe, Phil Crowe, Johnny Wills, Greg Hall, George Abbott,
Johnny Prosser, Pete Beckett, Mark Collins and gravelly-voiced John Hawks,
plus Daniel, and we all went for a meal and a few drinks in celebration on
the Saturday. I would have liked more friends but they had either left the
town, living and working elsewhere, were on holiday, or doing National
Service. I had so many friends and so many memories!
Tony, Daniel and I took Francis and an even more excited James to
London on the Monday. We spent most of the day at the Zoo on Tuesday.
Francis was sure one of the monkeys recognised him and was most put out
when we said it was Daniel's brother. He was even more put out when the
monkey, egged on by the crowd, started masturbating! "Has he got an itchy
winkle?" I had to shut Tony up when he started to say that it was surely
Daniel's brother as Daniel always had an itc.......!
**
Time flew. Dr Butler sent me a list of my tutor groups. He assumed I
would be appointed a University Lecturer at some time as well but for the
moment I would be responsible...... And, to be prepared for my viva for
the PhD which was scheduled for Wednesday January the Fourteenth.
Letters flooded in from all over. Both my cousins in America wanted
to know when I could visit. They were now married and both had a son
apiece. Flea sent his letter from somewhere in the Middle East where he
was training pilots. Lachs did a flying visit, literally an afternoon,
looking harassed and unforthcoming about Audrey. A beautifully ornate
letter came from another Middle Eastern state, from Sayed. Lord Harford
said the Blue Boar card was permanent! But the most interesting letter was
the one from Rome, from the now Father Michael O'Brien.. In all my
excitements I had suppressed the knowledge he was ordained, in St Peter's,
at Easter. He was now working somewhere in the bowels of the Vatican for
some commission while still studying for his next degree. He had found his
niche as well.
September 1952
Dear Jacko,
Just to wish you the heartiest congratulations. I knew
you could do it all those years ago when I first met you. Dad
always
said you were the brightest kid he'd met which didn't say much
for his
own offspring. And no doubt, your offspring follow in their
Dad's
footsteps!
Little bit about me and you can tell me about you when
you write!!! I have definitely found my vocation. Not one
regret. Well,
perhaps, a few things, but trivial. One was not getting enough
exercise, so
Monsignore Vincente, who I have been working under, suggested I
might
like to help an old friend of his, Padre Domenico, in his parish.
It's in
a very poor part of Rome and PD has been there ever since he was
ordained and is now sixty-two. Very much loved and admired but
over-
worked with the problems. Major problems being lots of kids in
the
parish and he was worried the boys would end up thieving and so
on
because of present troubles about the constantly changing
governments
and no money.
I went along, minimal Italian, plenty of enthusiasm and
harried the kids. There's a big space around the church so we
set up a
football pitch and a basketball court - court, a patch of dusty
ground!
I begged footballs and a couple of basketballs from the Embassies
and the whole thing has taken off. I've been there nearly a year
- went
as deacon first so no real parish duties. Kids are wonderful.
Speak
Italian like a native now - a rather rough twelve-year-old's
Italian with all
the slang I mustn't use in polite company! The kids were
entranced
with the sight of 'Padre Inglesi' with football boots and shorts
on under
his cassock! Name changed to 'Padre Cazz' when I and a fellow
student
took twenty-five of the ruffians - 7 to 16 - to the beach at
Ostia for the
day. Most had never been on a train before. I got the name as I
was
determined to have a swim and the only swim trunks I had were
those
I had when I was 16. Rather tight and revealing and I don't have
to tell
you what 'cazz' is slang for!
The Brothers have sent out football shirts and shorts
but
we need more. When you get to your college see if they have a
lost
property collection. Anything welcome. Mothers are superb
needle-
women. Boots and socks as well. Anything. Please!!!
Since Easter PD has roped me in for more parish work
including hearing confessions. Without breaking the seal of the
confessional I can tell you that Italian boys are exactly the
same as
English boys - alone or with! They prefer to confess to me as
they
don't think I understand what they say and, apparently, I don't
threaten
them with hell-fire and damnation as well as blindness and
insanity
which they used to get especially from some of the more stern
curates
who never seem to have lasted. All they get is three Hail Marys
and no condemnation!
As an ordination present Monsignor bought me a pop-pop
bike - all the rage here and so useful as it was a fair way to
walk to the
Parish. Second week I had it, it disappeared on the
Wednesday while
I was coaching the lads. Pinched! They were incensed. On the
Saturday I was in the box hearing confessions when I heard a
weeping.
It was some hulking eighteen-year-old, apprehended with his pal
with
my scooter and brought to confession by at least a dozen silent
youngsters. He was so scared about what they might do to him and
his friend he pleaded that I talked to the boys. I can't tell
you what
else he confessed to, but we now have two very enthusiastic
helpers,
and I mean enthusiastic because underneath I have this feeling
there
is good in everyone, and the kids bring in all sorts of stray
others
for help. PD has fixed for three ex-rent-boys to be trained in a
local garage. Poor kids had been on the streets since the age of
ten.
If it happens, it happens here.
I hear you see Maureen sometimes when you visit your
mother and father in London. She's a lucky girl! She brought
Tim with
her when all the family came out for my ordination. Tim's got a
future,
too. Monsignor got him a lesson with Signor Germani who, I
understand,
was impressed. Anne's at Cambridge too from October. Doing
something
on females in the Church in medieval times. Never know with her,
she's
the clever one of the family!! Not saying Maureen isn't. She
brought me
a small statuette she'd done - really beautiful. I still draw.
The other
sisters seem to be increasing the Catholic population as fast as
possible. The bros-in-law are both teaching now. God help any
lad who
misbehaves!
I have heard little about Vince. I hope he's made the
right
choice. He is such a thoughtful character and often said he felt
he'd been
cured so he could do something useful. I pray for him
constantly.
Well that's me for the moment. Don't forget there's
always
a welcome here. Bernie Doyle and Pat Halloran came out with the
family
and were quite, I repeat, quite polite about the accommodation I
arranged!
Yours forever, in thought and prayer,
Mike +
**
On September the thirtieth I was twenty-three. If I could cope I was
settled in a job I could only have dreamed about. My sons were now four
and three. I still had to sort out how I would be able to cope with them.
If anything happened to me Tony would be appointed guardian. James was as
bright as Francis, a bit quieter but determined in his own way not to be
outdone. He could read, too, and Mrs Marcham had arranged for both to go
to Nursery School three mornings a week and they had started and loved it.
I smiled as I surveyed myself in the wardrobe mirror. The skinny fourteen
year old with the young boy's body and prick was now six feet two, a
forty-two inch chest, a thirty-two inch waist, a hairy chest and, yes,
erect, it was seven and one tenth inches!
It was quite an emotional moment when we said cheerio to Daniel on
Waterloo Station when he caught the train to go back to Paris. My stay
with his parents was over. They were now my relatives, too, and in no way
could I ever lose touch. He said Tony and I were to bring Francis and
James with us at Easter and we could go to Versailles and stay at the flat
with them, too. Perhaps we could all go to Neuchatel, perhaps we could see
Hans and, perhaps, Herr Vogel he'd heard so much about. Could he come back
next year? Plans, plans, plans!
**
My first weeks at Cambridge went in a whirl. I assiduously attended
the lectures my students should be attending so I knew what to argue about
in tutorials. I was invited to sherry parties galore. I had a couple
myself in my now-furnished rooms. I found some pictures in an old art shop
in Cambridge which I hung on the walls and pride of place was the
now-framed drawing of a nude young Jacko done by Mike all those years ago.
It was a talking point and I noted that every one of my tutees eyed it,
query speculatively. Jem was back, with Sam. Jem appointed himself as my
gyp even though he was now an assistant porter. Actually, young Davy was
delegated the duty of waiting on me each morning. He was from the same
mould as Jem, bright, gossipy and unswervingly loyal. He always checked to
see that my portrait was still hanging there each day. I caught him
staring at it one day. "Well-hung, isn't he?" I whispered as I came up
silently behind him. His ears went bright red. He wasn't to be outdone.
"More now!" he said, without turning round. He got an extra half a crown
that week for flattery, or for telling the truth!
I had several invitations to dinner, either from bachelor dons in
their colleges, or, like Professor Johnson and the Reverend Dr Palfrey, at
their homes with wives and families. Willy asked if he might see the list
and advise me on the acceptance in sequence with, most definitely,
Professor and Mrs Johnson first! He was likely to be the next Master of
another college and was a very important personage. I valued Willy's
advice and actually that evening turned out to be quite momentous. Mrs
Johnson was a don at Newnham, one of the colleges for ladies only. She was
formidable as only lady dons can be, but the soul of kindness underneath.
Among the guests was someone I knew. It was Anne O'Brien, fresh from
Oxford where she had taken a first in Medieval History and a junior
Fellowship and now transferred to this other place, Cambridge, to complete
her Oxford DPhil. Naturally I invited her out for a meal and I would have
to see what happens!
To be Continued:.................