Date: Sun, 19 Sep 2004 15:10:37 +0000 From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com> Subject: Two Jubilees Part 29 This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive, or illegal for you to read where you live, then do not continue, go and surf elsewhere. This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental. The work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author. My thanks to John and Michael who have read this through and made a number of corrections and suggestions. Any remaining errors , grammatical, spelling or historical or whatever are entirely my fault. If you want to comment on the story then do contact me on Jeffyrks@hotmail.com. I aim to reply to all messages. Two Jubilees and One Spitfire. Part 29. Resume:- Trevor's special friend, Kundi has had to return to Nigeria. Trevor took him to Tilbury to say goodbye. Part 29. A Correspondence. Trevor drove back to Leytonstone in a daze. He parked the car outside the house. He went straight upstairs and flung himself down on the bed. He dozed and wept through the afternoon. Greg was first home. He noticed Trevor's Morris Traveller parked outside. As soon as he was inside the house he called out Trevor's name. There was no answer. He looked through the rooms downstairs and finding them empty, went upstairs. He quietly opened the door of the front bedroom. Trevor was sprawled face down on the bed, in much the same posture as Kundi some hours before; but Trevor was fully clothed. A blotched and tearful face looked up at him. "Trevor!" He walked round and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his arm round Trevor. "I don't know what to say. Mark and I have been trying to imagine how we'd feel if we had to part. It must be hell!" Trevor turned onto his back, and then sat up. Greg held Trevor close in his arms. "We're for you, and with you, Trev. If you want to talk we're around. If you just want to be alone, we'll understand. But we're going to look after you. Now I'm going to get a cup of tea, and then start preparing a meal." He left the room, returning a few minutes later with a tray and a pot of tea. He poured out a cup for Trevor. "Make sure you drink it. There'll be a meal in about three quarters of an hour." When he was alone, Trevor drank the cup of tea, and promptly poured himself another one. He then sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Mark returned from work, and he came up and just sat on the bed with Trevor, holding him. Greg called up that the meal was ready. "I don't feel like eating," said Trevor. "Probably not, but you must eat. It'll help you to feel better." "I don't know that I want to feel better." "Come on down." Mark pulled Trevor to his feet, and they went down stairs. Greg and Mark chatted briefly about their day. "Were you able to go on board, Trevor?" Trevor nodded. "Did you see Kundi's cabin?" Trevor nodded again. "I presume he's got to share?" asked Mark. That question got Trevor talking. He went through the day. He thanked them for leaving Kundi and himself to be alone for that final forty-eight hours. Whenever Trevor seemed to be stopping talking one or other of them asked another question. Talking eased things for Trevor. "I wish Isaac was around. Israel seems such a long way away. The two guys I love most are far from me. Isaac in Tel Aviv and Kundi on the high seas. I feel so desolately alone." "When do you have to be back in Nottingham?" asked Greg. "The thesis should be typed and bound in a week's time. I have to collect it, and formally hand it in. It goes to be read, and then I have a viva." "So what are you going to do in this intervening week?" "I hadn't thought about that." "You can, of course, stay here. It's more your home than ours," laughed Mark. "But Trev, you're usually so organised," added Greg. "You know what you're going to do with your time. Why don't you set yourself something you want to do. You have no work to do, for the first time for ages. You're absolutely free for a few days." "But there's no Kundi, or Isaac." "Moping around won't bring them any closer," said Mark, who promptly wondered if he'd said too much. "I'll think about it," muttered Trevor. Trevor had a restless night. Greg brought him up a cup of tea just as he and Mark were leaving for work at 8.00am. He spent the first part of the morning in bed. When he got up, he popped out for a paper, and then had a leisurely breakfast reading it. He drifted through the day. In the afternoon he went out to the local book shop and bought the three volumes of The Lord of the Rings. "That's still very popular," said the shop assistant. "Everybody seems to have read it, but now I have got some time so I can get my head into it." replied Trevor. He summoned up enough energy to prepare a meal for when Greg and Mark returned. It was while doing that he decided that just drifting through a day missing Kundi was not the answer. He needed to do something. He would still miss Kundi, but he would not also have the slightly guilty feeling that he was wasting time. He announced his plans at the end of the meal. "I have decided what to do. I have got these few days before I have to be back in Nottingham. I am going to see if I can trace someone." He told them about Harry, the boy down in Somerset, who had got Trevor to toss him off in those early months of the war, and who had given him the precious wooden Spitfire. It was late the next morning that he set off. He drove round the North Circular Road, and eventually made his way south of the river and headed for Salisbury. He decided to stop the night there, and to look round the cathedral. The next morning he drove on. He arrived at Binchcombe in the early afternoon. He drove past the school that he had gone to, and was surprised at how small it seemed. He got out and walked round the village, and went into the church. There had been a few changes. Then he drove out to the Joliffe's farm. The cottage he had lived in with the Hearns was empty, and looked dilapidated. As he walked across the farmyard a man came out of one of the buildings. "Can I help you?" "I lived in the cottage there for a few months at the beginning of the war. Do you know what happened to the Hearn family that used to live there?" "I don't know about a family of that name. When I bought the farm ten year ago, there was a labourer and his wife, name Wendle. They moved out in the early fifties, and the place has been empty ever since." "What happened to Mr and Mrs Joliffe then." " `E died. I think she went to live with a daughter up Birmingham way. I bought the farm soon after Joliffe died." "I don't suppose you have an address or anything?" "No. Sorry can't `elp you." Trevor realised he was drawing a blank at the farm. He got into his car and drove back to the village. He got a bed for the night in the village pub, and in the bar that evening asked about the Hearns." "They moved when Eric Hearn got a job as foreman on a large farm down Dorset way," said one man. "I seem to remember `earing that both boys got married," said another. That was all the information Trevor gained. The next day he made his way back to Nottingham. The next few weeks were busy for Trevor. He handed in his typed and bound thesis. He had his viva, and passed. Next graduation ceremony he would formally become Dr Trevor Russell, Ph. D. Professor Double O'Brien persuaded him to re-write his thesis with a view to publication. She pulled some strings that found him an undemanding job in Grantham, that allowed him time to write. This meant he could stay at the Bamford's, and also remain in close touch with Double O'Brien. He bought himself a better typewriter, and a copy of Teach Yourself Typing. He was busy with a lot to do, but his heart ached for Kundi. *** It was mid September when he received the first letter from Kundi. What follows are some parts of the letters that went between the two of them. My dear Trevor, First, I miss you. The parting at Tilbury was unbearable. I wanted to run down that gang plank after you. I am afraid I was not a very sociable person on the voyage home. Two of my cabin mates were old, probably late 40s. There was one nearer my age, but we did not really hit it off. It was a miserable time. My home coming was like a triumph. My family, in fact the whole village made me welcome. News had reached them that I had done better in my finals than any other West African! [Thanks to you!] After a few days at home I had to go and see a man in the Ministry of Development. I have been asked to go and work with a white engineer on the building of a dam up country, to learn the practical side of civil engineering from him. The one possible difficulty is that my mother is saying that I must now get married. I think they may have someone lined up! I go to sleep each night thinking of you. I have read some of the poems in the book. I like them. Every night before going to sleep I kiss the stains on the cover! I just wish, Trev, I could hold you again in my arms. Love, Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham. 23rd September 1960 My dear Kundi, It was good to receive your letter. I feel as though an essential part of me, you, has been cut off and removed. I have tried to keep busy, and that helps a little, but when I am not particularly busy, like when I am eating a meal, or in bed trying to go to sleep, I think, and I remember. I would do anything to run my hands over you again, to kiss, and everything else. I hope the job with the white Englishman goes well. Much love Trev. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 30th September 1960 Dearest Trev, My boss is not an Englishman. And he's not white! He is a pink Scot!, and very proud of being a Scot too. Comes from Aberdeen. Married with five daughters. He is a very good engineer. Only the best is good enough for him. I am learning a lot from him. He says degrees in Engineering are all very well, it is the practical abilities that count; and I agree. I am going home next weekend. I expect the marriage issue will come up. Much love, Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham 12Oct 1960. Dear Kundi, I have been wondering how things are going for you, especially about the weekend at home. I am busy writing my book. I find the work tedious. It is not original work, largely it is just re-writing etc. I am leading a very disciplined life. I get up early and do a good two hours work on the book before breakfast, and driving across to Grantham. The journey there and back is the bind in that it takes up valuable time. I eat with Sue and the family and aim to do a further three and if possible four hours on the book. Double O sees the draft of each chapter, reads it, and returns it to me, and the script is covered with her [almost] illegible scrawl, written in red ink. I feel as though I am back at school. Though my heart sinks when I get the chapter back, her comments, corrections and suggestions are all extremely valuable. My missing you does not get any less. When I toss myself off I think of you, but I just get a momentary physical relief, no relief to the longing of my heart. Paul rings me at least once a week to see how I am getting on. I cannot say too much as the Bamfords are within listening distance of the phone, as it is in the hall. But knowing he cares helps, even if I cannot say much to him. He wants me to go and have a weekend with them. Masses of love, Trev. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 19Oct 1960. My dearest man, Trev, I was right about my parents! They had got a girl lined up. I met her on my weekend at home. She is a nice girl, quite a bit younger than me. She is good looking, and quite intelligent. She was very shy when we met, and so was I. Trev, I don't want to hurt the girl, or do wrong by her. The strong expectancy here is that a man will marry. The very, very few who don't are regarded as odd, strange, defective in some way. I want to get on. On the work career front, the opportunities are great. I want to help my country, my family, as well as myself. I don't want to bring disgrace and anxiety to my family. I only hope that if we marry I will be able to consummate the marriage. Failure on that score would be disastrous for both of us. I was glad to read that Paul is trying to help you. He is a good friend, and I know he likes you very much, and thinks a lot of you. I still think of you, and try to read a section of the Tennyson each night, before kissing the cover and going to sleep, hoping to dream of you. Love Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham. 30Oct 1960. Dearest Kundi, Thinking of you a great deal and your dilemma over getting married. I only know a little of the pressure you are experiencing. Isaac obviously put no pressure on me to get married. Fergus has still a certain amount of pressure. I do not know how much pressure Con was under to get married. Anyway he managed to consummate the marriage, and is now the father of two or three kids. You will be interested to know the news from Leeds. Lizzy Driffield is expecting a baby. Paul is ecstatic. I think they are finding great joy `in their bodily union.' Lots of love and hugs Trevor. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 10th Nov 1960. Dearest Trev, We will be getting married in the New Year, certainly before Lent begins, as the Church is not happy about weddings during Lent. It is difficult trying to get to know her as we will not be allowed to be alone together until a week or so before the wedding. There has always to be someone else present, who can see us the whole time. One of our minders moves away so she cannot hear what we are saying, the others remain where we are not sure whether they can hear or not! This means that we are both rather tongue tied when we are together. But I still think so much of you, Trev. We had such freedom together in England. Lots of love, Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham. 20th Nov 1960 My dear Kundi, How I wish I could hold you in my arms, and that we could talk, cuddle, kiss and do all the other things we used to do together. I shall be thinking of you in the anxious and busy time before you get married. I am in a quandary. I do not know what are the marriage customs in Nigeria, or what are your exact needs. It is the custom, as you know, over here for the newly weds to be given wedding presents. They usually help friends and relations by making out a present list of things they would like to receive. I want to give you some something, and there are several of us who want to give you both something, the Bamfords, Isaac, Mrs Corder, and Greg and Mark! So if you can give us some help? We don't want to end up sending you something irrelevant for Nigeria. Isaac is coming back for a week early next month. I do so look forward to spending some time with him. He is loving being in Israel, and working in Tel Aviv. He is eager for me to go out and visit him. My work is progressing well. I have been asked to go up to London for a conference organised by the Board of Trade on the trade implications of the European Movement. I think dear old Double O must have put my name forward. She is full of praise with her mouth, and ruthless with her red pen on the work I have done. I owe her a lot. Masses of frustrated love, Trevor. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 1st December 1960. You people back in England [and Isaac in Israel] are so kind. They say that you English are stuck up and full of colour prejudice. But I continue to find these expressions of overwhelming kindness. When Ade and I set up home where I am working, we will be expected to do some entertaining. I will want to repay the hospitality of my Scottish boss and his wife, among others. I wonder if I can presume to ask for something to help on a dining room table? The date is fixed for Friday 3rd February 1961. I wish you could be my best man, and yet I know that if you were here, I would want to get into bed with you, and not poor Ade. But she is a nice understanding girl. I do hope I will be able to do the necessary. Work is going well. Jock MacAlister my boss is a tyrant at work, but it is all good for me. I am learning a lot. He and his wife are coming to the wedding! Much love Kundi. When Trevor was next in London he bought a very good and expensive dinner service at Harrods, and they shipped it out to Nigeria. The Bamfords and Mrs Corder combined to give the couple a canteen of cutlery. Greg and Mark sent a large Irish linen table cloth. Isaac sent some wine glasses, and an olive wood cross, and some olive leaves from the Garden of Gethsemane. Paul, Lizzy and Paul's parents sent a water jug and glasses. The items from the Holy Land were examined with great interest by both families, as the Holy Land was not on the tourist trail for Nigerians. Out of the blue there were a couple of silver candlesticks from Heinie. The note attached read, `To the Happy Couple, with happy memories of that Christmas!'. Beeston, Nottingham 15th December 1960. My dear Kundi, You are so much in my mind as you prepare for your wedding. Yes, I would have loved in one sense to be your best man, but in another way I am glad I am not. It is going to be hard that day, even though you are thousands of miles away. I wish both you and Ade every joy and happiness, but, my dear friend, I still love you, and love you as much now as when I tore myself away from you when you were about to set sail. As the weeks go by I become more and more certain of the truth of Tennyson's words, `Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.' I am so grateful for the time we had together, I do not regret it for one instant, but the loss is still so painful. I am going to spend Christmas with Mark and Greg. Isaac would have liked me to have gone to Israel, but money is a bit tight at the moment, and I cannot spare the time to make a worth while visit. Paul too invited me for Christmas, but I know that is a busy time for him. The re-write is almost finished -Thank God!! The seminar, organised by the Board of Trade in London, went well. I wonder if I will be asked to do anything more like it. I quite enjoyed it. Double O'Brien is, as always, full of encouragement. The Bamford's send their love. Mrs Corder hasn't been very well. Love to you, Trevor. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 13th January 1961 The fateful day is getting closer. I am now able to spend more time with Ade, and we are now allowed to be alone together. We get on well. There is always plenty for us to talk about. She is fearful about some of the social activities that will be involved in being my wife. You know what I am worried about! We will be living is a new small house quite close to where I work. There are a number of other houses nearby some of them lived in by whites. [Sorry! Pinks] Fortunately Ade went to a school where there were a couple of white missionary teachers. One these women has been helping Ade to learn the social customs of entertaining you English! Trevor found the day of Kundi's wedding difficult. He tried to treat it as any other day by working hard, but he found he could not concentrate. He gave up work at lunch time. In the afternoon he went for a walk round University Park, and included Wollaton Park as well, but that did not help. In the evening he went into Nottingham and went to the cinema. That night, as he had done so many nights recently, he used his hand to shoot his load, wondering how things had gone, and were going in Nigeria. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 5th February 1961 Dear Trev, Just a very quick short note. The marriage went well. I managed to do the necessary without too many problems. It seemed a bit strange, but I actually enjoyed it. Ade is happy, and so am I. Lots of love. Your Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham. 19th February 1961. My dear Kundi, Thanks for you brief note. I was very pleased to hear that the wedding had gone well, and you had had no difficulty `doing the necessary'. I have finished the book, and my final draft is now being typed out ready to go to the printers. [My typing is not good enough yet] I have been asked to be a speaker at another one of the seminars organised by the Board of Trade. This one will be in Bristol. The good thing is that I get paid quite well. I shall have to do some work for it, but that will be good, to get down to some original work and not just regurgitate what I have done already. You will be interested to know that on my chest of drawers, alongside Harry's Spitfire, I have four photos; one of Isaac, looking very formal and respectable in black, walking down the street after going to the synagogue. There is one of Fergus swimming with nothing on in Loch Sunart, but you can only see his head and shoulders. Then there is the one of Eric, my friend from RAF days. Finally, there is one of you. It is the one I took after our first time in that field, you have that wonderful grin on your face, your top fly buttons are undone and you are tucking your shirt into your trousers. A reminder of that most wonderful day. I say good night to the five special men of my life as I go to bed. Loving you, Trev. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 5th March 1961. My dear Trev, We are settled into our home. Last night we entertained for the first time. Jock [my boss] and his wife were our first guests. We used our `English' wedding presents. for the first time. Ade was very nervous, but Jock's wife quickly put her at her ease. Ade did not do everything herself as we have a couple of servants in the house, and a boy for the garden. The evening went well. Jock is great fun when not at work, and has had a whisky. Love you, Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham. 27th March 1961 My dearest Kundi, Well! I have got a lot to tell you. Good and bad. I will tell you it all in chronological order. I had a phone call from an ecstatic and very proud father two days ago. Lizzy has given birth to a baby boy. They want to call him Trevor after me for some reason. Paul says that they both want me to be a godfather; but I queried that as I am not sure that I believe enough Christian doctrine for that responsibility. Paul has invited me to go up to Leeds in three weeks time, and we will discuss it then, and he threatens to twist my arm if necessary! The seminar in Bristol involved being away for several days, Monday afternoon to Friday morning. I read my paper first thing on Wednesday morning, and then after coffee there were questions and general discussion. It went very well, and I received some warm applause at the end of both sessions, and I thought the chairman's thanks at the end were more fulsome than usual. All of which was tending to lead to a swollen head. On the Friday morning during breakfast I was handed a note asking me to drop in on the chairman in his room at 9.15. I did so. He thanked me again for my contribution. He then asked me what I was doing, and what my plans were for the future. He also asked if I was married, or engaged etc. He said that almost certainly there was a job for me in the Board of Trade. If I was interested to contact him, and come down to London for interviews etc. As you can guess my hat size was another couple of sizes larger. It is quite a long drive back from Bristol to Nottingham. I had just gone through Birmingham when I realised I could not go much further without having a pee. Just outside Burton-on-Trent there was a lay-by and a public toilet. I pulled in. There was a rather old Ford car parked outside. I went inside. It was a small, and not particularly clean public convenience. There were three urinals and a couple of cubicles. There was a young chap, about my age, standing at the furthest urinal peeing. I know he was peeing when I came in because I went to the nearest stall, and I could see his pee running down towards the drain. He gave a slight cough, and I turned towards him, and he was looking at me. He smiled. I think I smiled back, and turned my attention to my own peeing. I finished peeing, and glanced at him again, this time he was looking at me, and was obviously tossing himself off, though at that stage I could not see his cock. I grinned again, and started to do up my flies. Then he coughed again, and I looked and he was standing there with his cock semi- hard in his hand facing me. I looked at his cock. It was getting hard. It was a nice big circumcised one - reminded me of Isaac's. He stood there more or less offering me his cock. Kundi. I have barely glimpsed another man's cock since we parted, and certainly not touched and held one. Here was this guy giving me an open invitation. He held his cock on his open hand for me to see, and stepped closer to me. I stepped closer to him. He was looking down at my crotch, which was beginning to tent. I reached out and held his cock. He sighed. "That feels good," he said. That must have been a signal because suddenly the doors of the cubicles burst open and there were a couple of uniformed policemen shouting out, "Got you, you filthy pervert!" They pushed me back against a wall, and roughed me up. Not badly, I had no serious bruises or cuts, but it was not pleasant. "You'll have to come along to the Station to be questioned and charged." I was bundled into their car, protesting about leaving my own by the roadside. The journey to the police station took about ten minutes. During those few minutes I did some thinking and listening. I gathered that that particular toilet was a meeting place, or cottage, for homosexual men. I gathered that the walls of the cubicles were covered with graffiti which revealed such. I was tempted to give a false name, but decided that that would probably land me in even more trouble. As we went into the police station I heard the younger man who was not in uniform say to the sergeant on duty, "Caught another one, Sarg!" I was taken into a small room, and a form was produced which they filled in. "Name?" "Trevor Russell." I saw that they had written down Mr. "That's wrong." I said pointing, to the sheet. "What?" "I'm not a mister, I'm a doctor." "G.P.?" "No I'm a Doctor of Philosophy." "What the bloody hell is that?" I think I just smiled. "Address?" "37 Chelmsford Rd., Leytonstone, Essex." They looked at me with some surprise. I had decided to give my London address rather than Nottingham one, as I did not want this escapade to come to the notice of the Bamfords. "What were you doing in that Public Convenience." "I have given you my name, and address, and I will only answer questions about the incident in the presence of my solicitor." "Go and get the list of local solicitors," said the sergeant to the constable who was also present. "I do not want any local solicitor. I want my own solicitor." "So you've got your own solicitor?" "I am afraid I only have his home telephone number, but I know he works at Lincoln's Inn. I think he will be both interested and concerned that this police force uses an agent provocateur in their efforts to get a conviction. I am prepared to wait until he can get up here. Over night if needs be." The two officers looked at each other, nodded, and then both left the room. I was left alone for nearly three quarters of an hour. The sergeant returned, and more or less read me the riot act, and said I could go. They had the decency to run me back to my car. I tell you, Kundi, I had just to sit in the car for a good twenty minutes. I was shaking with the reaction to it all, though I had managed to keep calm through all that had happened. I think I needed you then, and that night when I was in bed thinking about it all. Lots of love, your nearly criminal, Trev. Beeston, Nottingham 3rd April 1961 Spring has arrived, it is feeling warm. The spring flowers are coming out. The only thing that's wrong is that you are there and not here! Thanks for the photos of the wedding. Ade looks a lovely girl, very beautiful. You look great too in your formal African attire - with memories of my birthday and your graduation. Thinking of you as much as ever, Love Trev. Near Gassol, Eastern Nigeria. 15th April 1961 My dear, darling Trev, What a terrible thing to happen. How I wish I could have been with you. But probably had I been with you it would not have have happened. I do hope you find someone. Remember Isaac's wise words about love. I am coming to love Ade, but I still love you, every bit as much as when I was in England. You need someone both physically and emotionally. Some exciting news. Ade is expecting a baby. I'm going to be a father! It is early days, and the baby will not be born until sometime in November. I am hoping it is a boy. I think every man longs for a son. Ade is keeping well. I think she loves me. I am working very hard, and even Jock the boss is pleased. When I get your letter I read it through several times, and commit it to memory. I then destroy it, as I am frightened that Ade would be upset if she read any of them. I tell you this so that you know you can tell me whatever you want. A few letters or so ago, you told me about your bedtime ritual. Saying goodnight to Harry, Isaac, Fergus, Eric and myself. I hope and pray that there is soon another man in your life. You need to have someone to love, and who will love you. Remember Isaac's words about love multiplies and does not divide. I wish my dearest Trevor, I could see every part of you, feel every part of you, some of those parts deep within, where they belong. Much love Kundi. Beeston, Nottingham 23rd April. Dear Kundi, I was delighted to hear the news of the baby. I do hope all goes well for Ade, and she does not get morning sickness which so many expectant Mums seem to get. Or is that only a problem for European women? Thanks for your concern. The episode at Burton-on-Trent shook me up quite a lot. I think it has made me more wary about making any sort of approach to another man. Yet, I want a man desperately. You are in Nigeria, Isaac is in Israel, and is not planning to come over here until sometime in the late autumn. Fergus is very busy, and has found a sort of partner. I have to put it that way. The other man is a male-nurse. Apparently it was love [or at least attraction] at first sight across a crowded ward. They are not living together, but only a five minute walk away from each other. They sleep together most nights in one or the other's place. I am glad he has found someone. We exchange letters about once every two or three months. Paul and Lizzy's Trevor was baptised in Leeds the other Sunday. I stayed with them for the weekend, sleeping on the floor downstairs, as both sets of grandparents were there. Paul and Lizzy talked me into being godfather. `I know you will care for him, and be a good influence on him. The other godparents will look after the religion thing. I want you to be his friend, a good uncle,' said Paul. The grandparents went off home early on Monday morning. I did not leave until mid-day. Lizzie suddenly said to me, `Now, Trev, you've got to do the first of your godparental duties.' `What's that?' I asked. `Bath your godson, of course. It is important that you begin to bond with him early on. I know you will want to be a good uncle to him. I want you both to love each other.' `But I don't know how to,' I said. `I've never bathed a baby, I'm afraid I'll drop him, or he'll drown.' `Don't worry, Paul and I will be there, and tell you what to do.' `Has Paul bathed him?' `Yes, he always does on his day off.' Well, Kundi, my love, I did bath young Trevor, my godson. I was very nervous to begin with. But he enjoyed it. He kicked and splashed and laughed in the bath." I actually enjoyed doing it. I think I might have liked to have been a father, so I shall have to make the most of being a godfather. I have been down to London, and have been offered an interesting job with the Board of Trade. It will involve quite a lot of travel; so you never know, I might have to come out to Nigeria. That may be true with the discovery of oil in your part of the world. I will live in Leytonstone with Greg and Mark. With a bit of luck I might find someone to be my partner. With much love, Trev. So 1961 went on. Trevor took the job based in London. He longed every day for a man, but the experience at Burton-on-Trent made him hesitant about going to any place which was known to be a meeting place of men like himself. The frequency of the letters between him and Kundi grew less. The summer of 1961 found Trevor excited and stimulated by the prospect of his new job, but despondent about his sex life. Jeff at jeffyrks@hotmail.com