Saturday, November 4

Saturday rambles

It is a wet day-hooray for the garden! But I fear that none of the precious water is going into any of the catchment areas.

GOM has another bout of bronchitis, so he is asleep. He must have felt bad, as he actually made his own Dr appointment!! It is only a month since his last bout of it. We suspect we keep getting infected by SG, who seems to have constant coughs & colds, since starting Pre School.

Still trying to get on top of old photos, & lots of 'stuff'.
I thought I was doing so well, getting all the photos into albums all those years ago, but as time has passed I suspect the albums have damaged some of the photos, & they now seem very faded & pale.

This is in memory of my little Katie, & our cat Aslan. They were the best of friends, & always slept together- usually on a blanket on the bottom tray of an old tea trolley.
Another beautiful garden of Nice Neighbour's.
A lovely little pic of Nice Neighbour's little fairy!

I have been remembering how GOM & I first met, & how determined he can be when he wants to be.
We met at night in a bar, in a hotel which used to trade (illegally) after hours.
All this was in the days of 6 o clock closing, & there was a secret, roaring trade in after hours- prices were always higher in light of the 'risks' the Publicans had to take!

BFJ & I used to go, on Saturday afternoons, to a large Hotel, in the Southern City, which had a huge lounge bar, & we got to know the 'regulars' after a while. Plus we would see quite a few people we already knew from our days of Apple Picking.

This particular Satruday evening we were given a lift with an acquaintance, who offered to take us to the 'afterhours' place. The way things worked in those days, was you didnt get in, unless you were 'known' to the management, or were accompanied by a known customer. All very hush hush, & quite exciting for girls who had previously known nothing of Hotel life.

There was a 'code', of course, & entry would be denied unless you followed strict protocol. If you wished to enter you had to give the 'secret door bell ring' - this was usually 3 short rings. The police, of course, played the game too, & it was well known if there was one long, solid, ring, a 'raid' was about to take place! So all customers would be hustled out into toilets, or upstairs, to cringe & sway on the upper levels, until the constabulary had conducted their inspection, & went on their way. I remember one seaside hotel, that was notorious for afterhours trading, & all the customers would be hustled out the back door, where they would have to shiver & cower under a huge rock cliff face- & it was usually freezing too!

The particular evening I met GOM was a cold night, & we didnt fancy running home through the cold streets to our small grotty flat. The bar was small & crowded & very noisy. GOM came over to introduce himself- he knew the man we were with, & spoke to him, then spoke to BFJ & I. As it happened he was with BFJ's future husband, & little did BFJ or I have any idea it was a fateful meeting.

GOM asked for my phone number, but we didnt have a phone. So he took my address on a matchbox & I never expected to see him again. BFJ had a regular boyfriend at that time, an Aussie, who shared a house with several others, & we used to spend most evenings at their house as they had 'mod cons'! TV & comfortable furniture.

I had a sort of understanding with another of the Aussie boys, but I was suffering a broken heart, which I really felt would never mend, so I wasnt really bothered about anyone.

GOM had other ideas, I guess. The first night he came knocking on the door, I laughed & told him I was off out for the evening, so off he went. The next night, there he was again. Same thing. Next night -same thing. For a whole week. In the end, I thought I would never get rid of him, so I agreed to go to a movie with him. We saw a Beatles movie- I forget which one now,- but I bet he remembers. He was so polite, & shook my hand goodnight! I went inside & said to BFJ that I thought I might have met a real gentleman! And really thought not much more about him, but he kept right on coming around, & sheer persistance won the day I suppose, as I started going out with him regularly.

The MIL- who was BOM- (Bitchfaced Ogre Mother) was not least impressed & liked to introduce me to GOM's rellies as, 'the barfly'. Thankfullly most of his rellies were nice & pulled faces behind her back. When my rellies met her they felt sooo sorry for me,- especially after we were married.

It didnt particularly worry me what she thought anyway, because I never dreamed that I would end up being married to GOM.
But that is another story!


Molly said...

How on earth did the BOM [!!!] manage to raise such a nice gentleman as the GOM?...since, usually, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Maybe there was a lot of windy weather when he was growing up!

meggie said...

I have never worked it out, Molly!
She could be as 'rough as guts' as they used to say, at times, & had been a very cruel harsh mother to her children. GOM's father was a polite quiet man, & he never raised his hand against the children, & I suspect GOM took after him. He never smacked our children & was never violent in his life. GOM's sister still hates her mother, even though she is dead. It is very sad. On the other hand she has her own problems -the green eyed monster rules her life.

And you are right- GOM is, & always has been, a gentleman really!

nutmeg said...

BOM sounds surprisingly like Mr J's mother! Thankfully we don't have much to do with her for this reason.

Also, my mum and dad, after every recent visit, bar a couple, went home with some sort of cold or infection from my two young girls. I nearly cancelled a few visits because I felt quite responsible. But I decided to let them know the current health "status" of the girls prior to their visits and let them decide if they wanted to proceed. All care, no responsibility taken :-)

Also enjoyed reading about you and GOM's romance.

My float said...

What a lovely romantic story of how you and GOM met! The least likely ones are the ones who steal our hearts, I suspect.

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