I am conscious that while I am on the job (I mean at work!), my writing about golf incessantly is probably mind-bogglingly tedious to those who prefer music and drama or the cafe culture, so today I shall journey down a different road.
I’ve been trying to remember what it felt like to be a teenager; but I can’t! I do remember being seriously annoyed by my father on a regular basis, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when my thirteen year old son behaves in the same way towards me. From there my thoughts drifted onto relationships and how many times Cupid has unleashed his arrow in my direction. I know some people have gone through life with only one or two partners, which to me is extraordinary and admirable. I confess I’ve had more than a few, but what about love? I was nineteen before I had my first real experience with a woman, such were the restrictions of a boys’ boarding school back then. It came about in an unfortunate way. I was taking my final exams to get my commission into the Royal Air Force when I had a call from home to tell me that my fifty two year old Mother was dead. It was a bit of a shock. I didn’t even know what had happened, but she’d been admitted to hospital complaining of stomach pains (she never complained about anything) and when they opened her up her insides were riddled with gangrene. They could do no more than sow her up again and she died a few hours later. My sister had moved to Canada, but she came rushing home and brought her best friend with her. We hit it off immediately and I was quickly besotted. She was my date at the Graduation Ball and things progressed from there. I do remember being utterly hopeless at knowing how to cope with a girlfriend in public. I took her to the Station Sports Day on my first base at RAF Brize Norton after which we were heading off to Scotland and I was so embarrassed that I hardly talked to her all day and failed to introduce her to any of my fellow officers. I eventually found her later in the day, having fun with a bunch of airmen. Being in each other’s pockets for a week north of the border sowed the seeds of dissent and it didn’t last long after that.
I went through my twenties having a wonderful time and never even contemplating marriage. Most relationships were short and sweet although I did manage nine months with a lovely WRAF officer who was almost as good as me at tennis (and I was quite good) and dramatically better than me at squash, which was quite a challenge! I had probably the best five months of my life as a twenty nine year old, spending five months flying helicopters in Hong Kong, playing lots of sport, singing, acting and partying most nights. I fell head over heels in love with someone I shouldn’t have done and it was always going to end in tears, but it was great fun while it lasted. I was thirty two before the prospect of marriage loomed. I was based in Germany but was home for a weekend when I met the most ravishing twenty one year old blonde. She was very intelligent, sporty, had a great job and was extremely sexy. We kissed on the first night and then I had to return to Germany. She came out a few weeks later and I quickly discovered to my surprise that despite having survived three years at University with the same boy, she was still “intact”. I was even more surprised when it didn’t take her long to get over that inhibition. We were unofficially engaged and driving back into London after a day avec les parents, when she pointed out her favourite wedding dress shop. Apparently my complete lack of interest (I was concentrating on driving) gave her second thoughts and it wasn’t long before her love melted like a butter pat in the sun; thank heavens I didn’t fall for someone so shallow! I was still bonkers about her and even bought her a stunning three layered pearl choker with a ruby clasp to try to change her mind. She didn’t, but kept the choker anyway. To be fair I did insist, as I had bought it for her.
So that makes three proper love affairs and the next didn’t happen till I was thirty eight and heli-skiing in the Cariboos in the Canadian Rockies. The girl running the shop at the Lodge was a top skier and great fun and we had a wonderful holiday romance that was only ‘conjugated’ on the final night. I thought that would be that, but to my amazement she came over to England for three months in the Summer. I wanted her to stay, but without a job she couldn’t and she returned to the mountains where the only communication was by radio telephone. By Christmas I realised I really was in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, so on Christmas Eve, when I was working a late shift at BBC Radio Sport in Broadcasting House I rang her to ask her to marry me. The radio telephone was on a speaker to the entire Lodge staff, which I didn’t realise so you can imagine how she blushed. Remarkably she said “yes” and I didn’t see her again until two days before we got married on 17th March 1990 in Banff. It was the most romantic of weddings in a stunning setting, followed the next day by a wedding breakfast in a friend’s house in Canmore. As well as being a brilliant downhill skier, she was a very accomplished cross country skier and she thought it would be fun to ski the 18 kilometres back to Banff. My experience of langlaufing had consisted of a 12 kilometre race once a year to keep the Army happy eight years earlier. The conditions were hot and slushy and my skis weren’t waxed. It was one step forward and two back for a gruelling few hours that seriously tested my sense of humour. Luckily I really was in love so it didn’t matter and it was the start of a very happy eight years together.
Sadly things went pear-shaped after that for reasons that I will explain next time as I’ve already wittered on for too long. As someone once said “Love is a many-splendoured thing”, but there are times when it can be a pain in the arse too, as I’m sure you know!
2DtC
P.S. If anyone’s interested I’m working for Sky this week, which means that unusually my wit and wisdom (or total lack of it) can be heard in the UK.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 