CHAPTER 53
Vignettes from my Life
2. October 1952 - December 1953
That first term actually went very fast. I was so busy settling in, trying to make sense of the work I had to do that time sped by. The boys were brought to Cambridge to visit me twice as Mr Marcham was involved in some property development on the outskirts of Cambridge and also with the purchase of several houses from a client for one of the colleges. The boys were entranced by the place. Two of my students insisted they took them out on the river on a punt on the first occasion. James was convinced they would see Daniel somewhere as it was a boat and surely the Swiss Family went on a boat. The students said that Francis had very carefully explained to James that the family had gone on a much bigger boat just like the one we would go on to visit Daniel. Actually one of the students was a very handsome lad and I was very tempted to see if he was such a ladies' man that he made himself out to be. I was curious as he always contrived, if I had two or three students for a joint seminar or supervision, to sit so he could see my portrait. I caught him several times almost staring at it with a slightly open mouth and the tip of his tongue touching his lips. I wondered what his daily wank-fantasies were?
I did get to Rhys' wedding in October and met my new second-cousins, Gareth's children, for the first time. He was no different and nor was Alun who was now working in Birmingham with the new British Motor Corporation as an engineering manager. His girlfriend was a stunner and they planned to get married at Easter. So it wouldn't be long, I thought, before even more Thomsons would most likely be on the way!
*
Christmas came and I went back to Kerslake. Tony had finished his cataloguing and was going back to Garthorpe Hall to wind things up and then he planned to live at Ulvescott Manor and keep an eye on the development of the wood-using units. Mr Marcham had also persuaded Aunt Mary to sell a piece of land to the Local Authority before it was compulsorily purchased for building houses. He was also going to build further houses on an adjoining site and wanted someone on hand to oversee the work. Tony would be able to write as the duties would not be onerous and he would be paid. I also guessed that Big Jim Chater entered the equation somewhere!
We had the usual stupendous Christmas. As well as Ma and Pa all the Buchanans came. Mr B was moving counties - he had just been appointed Assistant Chief Constable of the adjoining county but they would not be moving from their house in Kerslake. Duncan was happily teaching at a minor Public School in Edinburgh and big, brawny Tom was back in England again having finished his seven-year stint in the Army but had signed on for two more years.
There was much banter between the two lads - Oh God! - young men. I gathered from the remarks that the pair of them were keen on the Briggs sisters and the prime reason for both being at home for Christmas was to pop the question to the pair. Gosh! Two brothers wanting to marry two sisters!
Tom came round to have a chat during the week after Christmas - full of the joys of Spring, or of Winter! Both the girls had accepted. Plans were being made for a double wedding in the Summer. Would I be his best man? Yes, of course!
He then regaled me with more stories of his Army life and I was cross-questioned about Cambridge. He was still fixated on the randiness of the cooks. He said it didn't matter which barracks or depot he was at that all seemed the same. I made a mental note to ask Jem what he and Sam had been up to - especially in a hot place like Egypt. Tom said he'd been Orderly Sergeant one evening and did a spot check on the kitchen after the evening meal and wondered where all the cooks were. He found them standing round four of them on the floor with one being sucked off while that one wanked two of the others off kneeling either side of him. Tom said he just got there in time to see the climax of this exhibition, or, at least, three climaxes. He said the randy sods didn't bat an eyelid when he calmly asked if there had been any complaints that evening. The whole lot laughed and one called out if he liked to get on the floor he'd have no complaints. He said he got away before any of them grabbed him as he wouldn't have stood a chance. I said he had a bloody good chance and all he would have lost was about four ccs of spunk and his dignity! Poor old Tom! He did see the funny side of it and he said he was more worried about his dignity, he could always manufacture more of the other!
*
I spent a bit of time reading through my thesis again and wishing I could rewrite the whole damn thing. I could see holes in arguments, more evidence needed, skimped passages..... Oh, hell! How anyone could say it was worth anything? I was very down in the dumps and Tony did his best to console me. He insisted it read well and I had nothing to worry about. He did take my mind off it most nights so I was consoled in another way.
I asked him what else he'd found out up at Garthorpe Hall. He said he'd found out that Gussie was fucking Charley whenever he came home on any leave. Charley was scared of Gussie who, apparently, was into something called S & M which Tony described to me at some length. It sounded much more than the tying up of Tom when he was younger. Tony said a couple of the Guardsmen were Gussie's slaves and the leather jockstraps he'd seen Billy Clarke and the others wearing were only part of the whole outfit as Perce's cousin was into it as well. Charley had said Gussie wanted him to wear them with leather belts and thongs and chains and then be whipped but he wouldn't. He'd confessed all this to Tony one Sunday morning after he'd got really drunk the night before to escape Gussie's demands. He said he loved his brother but he didn't want to get involved in all that.
Tony said that lunch-time he just mentioned Perce's cousin in passing to Gussie who had gone beetroot red and, after that, Gussie left Charley alone. He said he and Charley had celebrated that a couple of times but Charley really wanted to find a girlfriend. The pair of them were due to go to the local Hunt Ball in February and Charley would try his luck with the girl he was inviting to it. Tony said he was taking the younger sister of Bruce's fiancee but..., ....no! Definitely not!!
*
Back at Cambridge I had a week or so before my viva. Dr Blake was very supportive and said he and the don at my finals viva would be the Internal examiners and the Professor from Durham was the External. I said if I had my time over again I would rewrite it. He just smiled and said 'Like everyone else!'.
I was in a real state the morning of the examination. More so than when I sat my first degree exams and even more so than at the odd interview I had for the Fellowship. Luckily, I knew the stuff backwards and I consoled myself that I probably knew more about the topic than anyone else. How mistaken can you be! The old Professor took the thesis apart. I think I answered all his questions and criticisms quite well. He asked me why I hadn't considered two particular articles written in 1898 of all things. I merely said that I had read about them but that more recent research had suggested that they were... I was about to say 'old-fashioned in conception' when I saw a slight grin on the other don's face. I realised the articles were written by someone with the same name as the Professor - his father or uncle, perhaps - I changed my sentence. '...they were... good in their time but had a few points which....' Here I racked my poor brain. '....which could now be elaborated upon in the light of further research....such as....'. I was saved. Family honour was saved. The old buffer then said my translation of the 'secret' book was good in that it maintained a dignity where others might have fallen into the pit of bad taste. As I wouldn't have minded being in the saw-pit with Castor and Pollux and their young brother and tasting....... So the viva ended. The dons looked at each other. We all stood and the Professor shook my hand and I was addressed as Dr Thomson for the first time.
I got to the stair to my rooms after sherry all round and found Willy there, grinning all over his face, paint-brush in hand, altering the M to a D on the nameplate.
“Had a call from Dr Blake, Dr Thomson, so just getting things all correct. May I offer you my congratulations?” he said and gave me a great handshake.
Before I knew it I was surrounded by well-wishers - news travels fast in Cambridge colleges! What a day!
*
I was startled one morning the same week to find Jem instead of Davy standing there with my wake-up cup of tea.
“Is Davy all right?” I asked, thinking that the lad might be ill.
“Yes, sir,” said Jem, very formally. He had a very serious look on his face.”I thought I'd better tell you.” What was this, bad news? He smiled when he saw my concerned look. “It's about Mr Bartlett, sir......”
Philip Bartlett was the lad who always stared at my picture and was a dead ringer for my idea of young Neptune the fisherboy.
“.....I think we have to tell you.....,” he couldn't keep a straight face, he giggled, “....he's got an almighty crush on you!”
“What do you mean?” I asked, playing the innocent, “You can't be serious, he's only a lad.” He was. He was a first year undergraduate, eighteen and a bit. “Sit down there while I go and have a pee.” I clambered out of bed the other side and took my time and as I came back into the bedroom I hauled on a dressing-gown and sat in the easy chair opposite him. “OK, now what's the story. Then I want to ask you something, too.”
Jem looked at me quizzically and then put on the serious face again which he couldn't maintain as the grin kept breaking out.
“Come on then, spit it out!” I said as he just sat and grinned.
“All confidential, eh, Jacko?” He used my nickname which he always did when there was gossip afoot. I nodded. “Well it's like this,” he giggled again, “Young Davy's his scout as well and he saw his notebook.....” I pursed my lips. “....I know, I know,” he said, “Not supposed to look, but he couldn't help it. Davy said he saw your name and there was a poem and three letters he'd written telling you how much he admired you and he would be your willing slave and so on.....” He stopped. I wondered if the lad was thinking of slaves in the way Gussie's young Guardsmen were his slaves, belts, buckles and bare beaten bums? “.....And then there was a bit of a story where you and he.....”
I held up a hand. “And how long did it take Davy to read all this?” I asked.
He snickered. “Have to confess. He read it while he was tidying up when Mr Bartlett was out for a run.”
“I think young Davy will have to confess to me,” I said and laughed, “I'll enjoy seeing his face!”
“Please don't,” said Jem, looking rather contrite, “The poor kid only told me in case Mr Bartlett did something silly...”
“Like sending me a letter, eh?”
He nodded.
“Well what can I do?” I asked, “He's done nothing yet but I did have an idea something was up.” Jem stared at me. “He always has a good look at my picture every time he comes for a tutorial and last week I thought he was going to drool over it.”
Jem smiled. “If you don't mind me saying, Jacko, I would have drooled over you when you were that age.”
“But you've got Sam now, eh?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, I think we drool over each other.”
Good, that was the question answered. The very good friends were now a real pair.
“And what does your family and Willy say?”
“Mum and Dad think we're just good friends like we've been since we were kids and Willy says as long as we don't rock the boat he's quite happy. He said he'd rather have me tethered to Sam than spending time with the students. That's why he's worried about Mr Bartlett.”
“So Willy knows, too?”
He nodded. “We have to tell him otherwise if anything happens there'll be all hell to pay. If old Mason had kept his ear to the ground Mr Townsend would never have got the crabs and Mr MacLeish wouldn't have been caught on Parker's Piece. Took a lot of trouble that did.”
I knew of Townsend's catching crabs, which boaties did all the time while rowing, but theirs was generally a different use of the word! But the MacLeish tale was new. Hunky Hector MacLeish trawling round the PP bogs, eh? Caught with his drawers down and his dick through a hole, no doubt! There was a general warning amongst students not to use that particular toilet as it was fairly close to the local police station and there was a rather zealous constable who did not approve of young men wanting a bit of satisfaction, especially after dark. Curious me had explored it in daylight hours once and even then there were a couple of hangers-around who peered curiously at me as I peed and then I peered at the cubicles, all equipped with a connecting hole. One had two holes, for boys and men I was informed later by one of the boaties who should have known better! What did I mean, he knew better than me! So what trouble did horny MacLeish cause?
“Tell me about Hector,” I said, “I though his main activity was downing pints of beer?”
Jem warmed to his task. “Silly bugger used to go there at least a couple of times a week. Kid I was at school with earns his pennies doing things.”
“Not the ginger one?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, this one's a copper's son and his Dad uses him sometimes to catch those who don't drop him a bob or two. Hector thought he was OK but the copper caught him when his son was giving him the works. Luckily Willy's Dad went to school with the copper so knows what he likes and gave him a hint that his Sergeant might hear something to his disadvantage. Next thing we knew the page in the notebook was lost. Cost Hector five quid to quieten everything down and he was a good boy after that.” He sniggered. “Asked me if I would do him a favour one day but I declined politely. Didn't want to upset Sam.”
“Good boy?” I asked sceptically
“Yeah, he was good 'cause he kept Quintus out of trouble, too.”
I was learning things. Quintus McIlvenny was a red-haired Irish lad who as far as I knew was another rugger-bugger like black-haired Scots lad MacLeish. Was he another trawler of the bogs? Jem saw the raising of my eyebrows.
“Yep,” he said, “Firm friends by the time they left. Neither liked cricket so they had plenty of time together in the summer term!”
I just shook my head and grinned. All our secrets! Some hopes!
“I hope I'm not a disappointment to you, then Jem,” I said.
“No! Willy thinks you're marvellous, what with the chap you were with up at that range who did the drawings and then having your sons........”
“And if we have any more gossip young man, you're not too big for me to smack your backside for you!”
“I don't think that'll be necessary,” he said grinning. “There's just some people who we don't say anything about!”
What to be done about my admirer, though? I knew of at least three dons who had the reputation of having over-friendly relationships with their students. Quite often ending in tears and acrimony, especially, as I'd heard, when a more delectable piece of student flesh appeared. I'd heard of a couple of clubs to which select dons were invited to become members. There were rumours about one group called the Apostles and I had had a couple of very supercilious dons pointed out to me who were said to be members of that elite set. I wanted no reputation, even though, I had to admit, young Philip Bartlett, from the bits I had seen, fully clothed and once in running kit, was a delectable piece of flesh. Perhaps, that was all he would be to me, a piece of flesh. No! I had to, and I would, resist!!
All was resolved quite simply. Willy, with the diplomatic skill worthy of the highest Foreign Office mandarin, suggested that Philip responded to a request for help from a struggling Modern Languages lad from Sidney Sussex.. I saw them communing togther in a tea shop as I passed one afternoon and from the closeness of the two bodies I guessed there was more than a closeness of minds. Towards the end of term I said I would give them a couple of joint tutorials and the look of pleasure on Philip's face was worth a lot. Jem reported that the original notebook had been replaced by one jointly used for very ardent messages.
Tony had his viva the week before the Easter vacation began. My great friend was now Dr Marcham. His other good news was that Mr Blane had accepted his book for publication, all three hundred pages! Tony told me that he was planning a trilogy, just like the three-decker novels of yesteryear. He was going to chart the history of the two families through the 1930's next.
On my visit to Ulvescott at Easter, after taking the boys to Birmingham for my cousin Alun's wedding to Gwen, I asked Aunt Mary if I could have some bottles of wine from the cellar as I needed to thank some very special people. She smiled and said of course I could. I selected a dozen and a half. Three for Willy, three for Dr Blake, one each for the four dons who had done my translation of the Latin tags and quotes, one each for Jem, Sam, Davy and the red-haired lad from the buttery and one for Philip and Luke, my ardent admirers, and three left for contingencies!
*
So Easter came and went in a flash. I was busy as I was scheduled to give a talk on my research to the Classics Club in the first week of term. I had said I would do it for them but I had also had a request from the Modern Languages Group and it was decided it would be held as a joint venture. I expected about a dozen or so but I found a lecture hall had been booked and almost a hundred turned up. Luckily I had prepared several pages which could be displayed with an epidiascope and to a hushed and very attentive audience I outlined how I had started the research, the idea of looking at the influence of English literature on French writing of the time, how I had discovered the connection with the Lascelles family through one of my authors and how I had found the 'secret' book.
There were gasps as I displayed first the French and Latin version of a few of the encounters, then the English, which drew even greater gasps as I suspected there were quite a few attendees who were there out of prurient interest. I thanked the dons who had helped with the Latin translations and there was a special cheer from a rather rowdy row of listeners - hearty types - when I went to each of the dons and presented them with a bottle of wine. There were even more cheers when I finished by displaying my family tree showing the descent from my five times great-grandfather, the author of the 'secret' book. I was thanked profusely at the end by none other than Professor Johnson, who had been invited to chair the meeting, who said he judged it to be one of the most illuminating talks given in all his experience. It was, according to Dr Blake, who later broached one of his bottles of vintage claret with me and Tony who had attended as well, a roaring success.
I heard from one of the university librarians that they had to put a special embargo on people asking to read my thesis as it was in danger of being worn away. I wrote three more articles on the content and each was accepted and were published very quickly. New copies of each of the French and English versions were typed up by a rather prim but excellent typist in the French faculty office and one set I had specially bound in red-gold leather which I gave to Lord Harford when I visited London and saw him at the War Office. All in all I just hoped my luck would hold.
One person who attended the lecture was Anne O'Brien and it was soon after that I asked her to marry me. Actually, everyone approved. Pa and Ma knew her as she often had visited the flat with her younger sister Maureen to go to concerts or exhibitions and, of course, her father had been a colleague of Pa's for many years. Tony approved. He had met her at the flat as well and said she was just like his sister had been, kind, generous and good fun.
When I took Anne to the house in Kerslake to meet Mr and Mrs Marcham and my boys she was accepted straight away. Francis immediately took charge and wanted to know if she lived in my house in Cambridge. After the fact that her house, Newnham, wasn't on the river was established he said the sooner she lived in my house the better and could he and James and Granny and Gramps, meaning Mr and Mrs Marcham, live there as well? So matrimonial plans were made - the last Saturday in August!
I asked Mr and Mrs Marcham what would be their opinion. They immediately said if it was what I wanted they would give every support. Their daughter had been very dear to them. I had loved their daughter, too, and their grandsons were their pride and joy. But, they were getting older. In fact, they were seriously thinking of retiring from day-to-day running of the business and moving out to Ulvescott Manor to be with Aunt Mary and Mrs Crossley. This would make their plans come to fruition earlier. A few days later I had a letter saying we were to chose any house we wanted in Cambridge and they would help us finance buying it. In fact, Gerald had two houses in mind, either of which would be suitable for a family. Also, as we would both be working, Maggy could come and act as housekeeper for us. No ifs and buts!!
Someone who wouldn't be able to attend our wedding was Mike, Anne's brother. I'd had another letter from him in Rome once the announcement of our proposed marriage was made following one congratulating me on my doctorate.
Rome April 1953
Dear Jacko,
What can I say? Nothing but further congratulations to one of
my dearest friends who is to marry one of my dear, dear sisters. She is the one next
youngest to me so I know her well. I think she's the cleverest of the lot of us and
she has made a wise and clever choice now. I know you and the boys will all
have a most lovely person and I know and trust she'll be a loving wife and mother.
If I go on like this you'll only consign this to the flames! So,
let me tell you a bit more about what I'm doing here. Day by day I'm working
as a glorified clerk in one of the many departments of this vast enterprise. I
spend a lot of time drafting letters, in my now impeccable Latin, to answer
questions from bishops and so on all over the world. My boss, the Monsignor
is marvellous. I couldn't hope to work for anyone better. I am also trying to
complete my own thesis in Canon Law and I have to present it next June and
undergo the public examination of it. Not like a cosy chat with a couple of
elderly dons! This, of course, is in Latin and Anne says you could have done
with my help with the peculiar book!
Parish work still goes on. I am enjoying that very much. It keeps
me sane and in touch with the world outside! My football and basketball teams
are really good now. By the way, the great bundle of ex-Cambridge clobber
arrived safely and much appreciated even if the boys had no idea what
jockstraps were!
I've got a few of the older brothers, plus the two who pinched
my mo-ped, interested in helping. My stock has gone up even more as I helped
to solve a rather ticklish problem. Actually, a bit more than ticklish. I'd noticed
one of the older lads when he changed for football practice had a rather dirty
bandage wrapped round his 'membrum virile'. (Yes, I heard that was one of
your terms!) As he'd confessed a few weeks earlier of consorting with an
unmarried female I wondered if he'd caught something. As three of the others,
all nineteen, twenty, or so, had also confessed to the same sin I made discrete
enquiries and found this particular young lady, nearly thirty, was plying her
trade having recently moved into the district. What to do? The next Saturday
one of the others made the usual confession but only confessed to sins of thought
and word. None of the 'irregular motions' you were always amused about. I
asked if there was anything else and I could hear him mumbling and told him
to speak up. He then said he couldn't, he daren't do anything as when he
passed water (I did know the slang term he used!) it burnt 'like the Fires of
Hell'. So a second one was suffering as well.
I plucked up courage and got the four, individually, who'd
confessed to going with the woman, to tell me the symptoms as all four, I
found, were suffering in the same way. A couple of weeks previously I'd
had to visit a doctor because of a cut I had was a bit septic and had noticed
the next doctor's nameplate said he was a urologist. I don't know whether
you know the Italian system of most doctors specialising. I went to see the
urologist who was rather amused that a young priest wanted an appointment.
He probably thought I'd been straying from the straight and narrow! However,
he was most concerned about my story and said he would examine the lads.
But, who would pay his fees? I had to ask Padre D and he just shook his
head and said it was a common problem but there was some money in the
parish account. I took the first one along and it turned out he had gonorrhea
plus a couple of other infections. The doctor was so intrigued he offered to
treat the lot for free! I managed to persuade the others to go and I put the
fear of God into them all about visiting Maria again. Next step then was Maria.
That visit was hilarious. She obviously thought I was a client. She howled
and wailed when I told her she had to be at the doctor's by two o'clock or
else. Dr Bartoli found she'd got everything under the sun and must have
infected all her clients. After that he had a stream of parishioners - mostly
married men - and he's eternally grateful as he's writing it all up for
publication in some medical journal.
That threw up another problem. In fact, several. Some of
the wives had been infected too, but two of the elder brothers had been
using their younger brothers. That meant I had to take a couple of fourteen
and fifteen year olds to have back passages examined and both were infected.
All in all a sorry business. Maria has been cleaned up and shipped back to
her village with strict instructions not to return and all the lads are now
confessing to 'irregular motions' once again.
Thinking of a mutual friend I was amused when one lad of
sixteen, who comes to confession regularly on the last Saturday of the month,
always confessed to exactly one hundred occurrences each month. After three
months I asked if he kept exact count and he said he just guessed and
said more because the Good Lord would know the exact number and would
give him credit in case he ever exceeded that number which was unlikely
unless he went on holiday to see his cousin Giacomo!
Don't think I spend all my time dealing with such delights but
it's just one of the many things that crop up. I am afraid that many of my
colleagues would have taken no notice.
Once again all my felicitations and you are all welcome to come
and visit - I had better let you arrange your own accommodation.
With all my love, prayers and blessings,
Mike +
.
*
But first, the summer term had to be got through. I had told Dr Blake of my plans. He beamed and said it would do me good to be married again especially to such an intelligent young lady as Miss O'Brien. I received congratulations from all and sundry when it was announced, except for a rather scurrilous piece of journalistic rubbish in a student newspaper about a don, 'who shall remain nameless', who had changed his allegiance from writing about boys in dubious circumstances to courting a young lady of impeccable standing... and so on. I heard later that the writer of the article, from another college, ended up, naked and daubed with black ink, in the Cam, dropped off King's Bridge.
*
Of course, the great event was the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second on June the Second. Pa had wangled seats for the immediate family, plus Tony and Mr and Mrs Marcham, overlooking the procession. Uncle Edward as an MP had seats in the Abbey and John Parker and his wife, married at Easter, were both in the huge orchestra. The London flat was packed overnight. Tony with Mr and Mrs Marcham were there and Charley and Bruce came down from Westmorland. Those two were going to keep an eye on Jem, Sam, Davy and Nick, the red-haired buttery lad, who were all herded into one bedroom. Willy declined the invitation saying someone had to keep an eye on the college and the students had one of those new-fangled television apparatuses fixed up so he would look at that. Tim was there with Maureen, who said she couldn't imagine her sister hooking a nicer bloke! A sentiment repeated a number of times, especially after Pa had pressed several of his rather lethal cocktails on her.
The younger set, as we called them, set off before 5 a.m. to make sure they got reasonable positions. They were equipped with Union Jacks to wave and periscopes to peer through in case they were at the back of the crowd. We had to be in position by 9 a.m. and Francis and James were highly delighted about going on the Underground again. What a day! We saw the procession and the State Coach and all the following coaches. We were also lucky in that the War Office had set up television sets in the big office rooms as well so I spent most of my time peering at the small screens and listening to the honeyed tones of the commentators describing the scenes. Tony nudged me at one point when one company of mounted Guardsmen was passing.
“Gussie's in that lot. D'you think he's got his leathers on underneath? Bet his slaves'll have a tickle tonight!”
The thought of Captain the Honourable Augustus Lascelles, Blues and Royals, arrayed in black leather jockstrap, black leather belts, chains and all, belabouring the backsides of his willing
young Guardsmen with the flat of the sword he was carrying gave me the giggles and I had to take more than one sip of the champagne that a rather nice young Mess-jacketed waiter was handing round. As he passed on with his tray to Tony I noted the cherry-coloured stripe down the leg of his very tight black trousers and the way Tony eyed him up and down. I had recently heard the new slang term about `losing one's cherry' and I thought, give Tony half a chance and the lad would be losing his.
To celebrate the Queen's coronation and the climbing of Everest, Richard Rhys Thomson, son of Rhys and Wendy, was born on June the Fourth!
*
I had promised the boys I would taken them to France and to Switzerland. Anne had to attend two conferences so wasn't able to come, so Tony and I, with Ma and the two boys, set out on Bastille Day to France to stay with Daniel and his parents. What a reception! It was incredible. Ma and Madame LaRiviere were so alike they could have been sisters. Tony had borrowed the portrait of Agnes LeFerreur and Monsieur had special colour photographs taken of it which were developed onto what looked like canvas. They were so realistic you could hardly tell the difference between them and the original. The boys were overjoyed to see Daniel again and their special treat was to go up the Eiffel Tower as Francis had brought that postcard with him. Francis had to be warned not to call him Winkle in front of his parents and I could see the little hound was itching to say it.
Dodo and I slept together once for the last time. He had a girlfriend now, Monique was a fellow student, but he wanted to tell me how much I had opened his eyes to love and affection and wanted us to share our love and affection that last time before we were committed finally, irrevocably, to others.
After a week of togetherness our party, with Daniel, then took the train to Switzerland. Again there was joy and happiness. Ma and her sister just spent hours talking together. Pascal and Walter joined Johann and the other five of us boys for a couple of outings and Francis knew what a Swiss Family was like! One person who Francis really took to was Johann's grandfather. Francis could be the perfect gentleman when necessary and managed to say all the right things. I will always treasure the sight of the old man holding Francis's hand and describing to him the Manet painting. I hoped that the old man would have the opportunity at some time to do the same for Johann's children.
We left Daniel in Paris on our way back. Francis's last words to him was that he would see him when Daddy got married to Mummy Anne and he was the nicest Winkle he knew.
We had to get back as on Saturday August the eighth Tom and Duncan were getting married to Betty and Mary Briggs. A great affair. Anne and the boys were there with Ma and Pa. I met up with so many of the lads I'd been to school with. Most settled, lots married. I remembered back to all the escapades with so many of them. There were missing ones, Roo in particular. Two of the others had been killed while on National Service in Egypt and elsewhere. But, we congratulated and toasted the brides and bridegrooms and my speech as Tom's best man went down well.
*
On Gerald Marcham's advice we settled on a house off Barton Road in Cambridge. It was large - six bedrooms - but was perfect as with the study room downstairs as well both of us could have studies and the boys could have a bedroom apiece and plenty of room for visitors! Getting the house was no hassle. The previous occupants, a don and his wife and four kids, had already moved as he had been appointed to a Chair at a university up north. It needed decorating but that was no problem, in ten days rooms were repainted, woodwork stained and polished, windows repaired, new plumbing put in. Our first furniture came from our old house in Kerslake. Mr Phelps and his wife had bought Ma and Pa's house so the furniture was now surplus. At least we would have beds, tables and chairs to begin with.
How to pay for it all? Mr and Mrs Marcham bought the house and I promised to pay them back. Ma and Pa chipped in, too but Anne's parents had had four daughters to marry off! Of course, I had Johann's grandfather's largesse in the form of Swiss francs. This turned out to be now in excess of fifteen thousand francs so with the exchange rate it was a goodly sum. I wrote to him saying how I was using the money and had a letter back with a wedding present of another thousand francs.
I thought it was going to be awkward as Anne was nominally a Catholic and me an unbeliever. We decided on a quiet wedding at Kerslake Registry Office with a big reception afterwards. Ma organised it, Pa paid for it, that's all I know. August the twenty-seventh came and went, we were married, Tony my best man this time, a fabulous reception with family, friends, everyone imaginable and a week's honeymoon in a quiet hotel in Derbyshire. Quiet it wasn't as we loved each other fully and completely, no holds barred. We walked and talked in between and both were blissfully happy.
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On our return we moved into the house, Maggy came with the boys and Francis, now five was installed in a local primary school with a now, extremely voluble James, in the Infants. Francis, ever the pragmatist wanted to know if James was a Mixed Infant. Of course, the title of the school was 'Junior and Mixed Infants', a hangover from the days when boys and girls were schooled separately from the age of five. 'If he was a Mixed Infant would he grow what girls have as well as his winkle?' Francis where did you find out about such things? Maggy confessed she'd had to explain to him one day, when they were at the clinic with James, and Francis had seen a baby girl being weighed and was concerned she didn't have a proper winkle!
Just before Christmas Anne received her doctorate, too, and a Fellowship to follow. My cousin Alun had been no slouch either. In Christmas week, Gwen gave birth to their son, Simon Finn Thomson. The males in the Thomson line were certainly not slow off the mark when it came to dipping the wick and were breeding well!