Final The Calm Before The Storm

I got in trouble with the police around the beginning of 1984. I was never arrested-just given a caution, nothing too serious-but my mother went ballistic. In that same year, I stopped working two years into an excellent training job. In hindsight, I never understood why until five years later. It was at Woolwich Industrial Units, a precision engineering role where we made parts for huge combine harvesters based in America. We also made nuts and bolts for Concorde, the supersonic passenger airliner with a cruising speed of Mach 2.04. Nothing major, mind you; I wonder if these were meant to be wing-based nuts? Anyway, it was a fantastic passenger aircraft for the rich and famous, but it crashed in July 2000, killing around 100 passengers. This was the only crash in its history, and it was retired around 2003. Weird. Only crashed once! Makes me wonder why it was retired.

Anyhow, I digress. I was depressed, with no job, in trouble with the police, and my mum seemed to hate me. Nothing was going my way.

One of my brothers was going to Lloret de Mar with three other mates, and he purchased a ticket and holiday for me. WTF! I was taken aback. My younger brother, two years my junior-and the thing is, he had only started his apprentice chippy just over a year ago. Where the hell did he get the money? Well, I wasn’t complaining.

So in July 1984, we embarked on what was one of my best holidays ever to Gatwick Airport, on a Club 18-30 holiday. This was going to be epic, and it didn’t disappoint. For nearly two weeks, all of us were drunk. Swig of lager for breakfast, lunch was awesome. With food, we would have one of the many cocktails, but one was called a Chocolate Bomb. This was with chocolate ice cream, rum and Coke, in a very tall glass. It tasted great. After days of this, it took a toll on us, and this was only the sixth day. So we all decided to take it easy for two days.

Well, that didn’t last. It actually lasted for around twenty-four hours. We were back on the bubbly the next evening. Shock.

One of the many bars and clubs we went into-there was one bar we frequented, and for the life of me, I cannot remember what it was called. However, my young brother entered first, followed by the other two mates, then last, me. We were flying high on alcohol, and it was only 19:30. We walked through the tables and chairs. As my brother and mates went ahead of me, I couldn’t see the front. We snaked towards the bar.

What happened next was like a bolt of lightning, hitting me in my tracks. My brother leant on the bar with the others, which cleared ahead of me. What I saw was this vision, virtually in front of me. Two women, and one destroyed my perspective on everything, right there and then. We locked eyes, and that was it.

Everyone I know, and every movie I’ve watched-love at first sight really happens. However, this was the exception to the rule. I sobered up immediately. That was it. Love.

We stayed together for the remainder of our holiday, seven and a half days. She was leaving after five and a half days. When she left, I was heartbroken, and I thought we would never see each other again, as she lived in Scotland, near Edinburgh, and I was five hundred miles plus away in London.

Anyway, the last two days for me were a little drinking fun with my mates and brother for the rest of our Club 18-30 holiday.

After two days, we returned to London via Gatwick and went home after collecting the car from the parking space. The first thing I did was call Emily-not her real name-in Scotland. To my relief, someone answered. It was Emily’s mother. She said, “Who should I say is calling for my daughter?” I thought, oh, she sounds a bit formal. After a few moments, Emily answered. She said hello.

“Hello, Emily speaking!”

I said, “Emily, this is Baz!”

She said, “Who…” WTF, I thought. My heart pounded with fear. How could she not remember me, after all it had been about a week? I was disappointed and upset. It was only seconds, but seemed like minutes. Those seconds stabbed me. However, after Emily said that, she added, “I am joking, Baz-of course I remember you.”

After she uttered those words, it was like a warm glow showered over me. And I knew I was in love. I had never ever felt like this before, and it was beautiful.

For almost six months, we talked by phone. My bill was large-or should I say, my mother’s. She was not impressed, but gladly paid the bill. After almost six and a half months, Emily decided to come to London and see me. I panicked. I was still living with my family, four bedrooms, all occupied by my siblings and me. But at least I had the largest room, and a double bed.

Three weeks later, Emily arrived at Victoria Coach Station. Almost a nine-hour journey. To do a nine-hour journey on a coach, there must be something in this. My hopes were elevated to new heights. Wow. Just wow....