Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws of your country or district please desist. If you are a bigot or prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.
This is a very long tale. It unfolds over a good number of years. What is true, is true: what is not is otherwise.
Thank you to all who have e-mailed me. If you haven't sent a message I would be pleased to hear from you.
ALADDIN'S AWAKENING
By
Joel
CHAPTER 52
Vignettes from my Life
- July 1952 - December 1952
Daniel was really happy as he was again to spend the summer in England. As France closed down for August he said he would have been bored stiff. I said I was under the impression he liked to be bored, stiff. His only response was a playful punch on the arm and "Tonight?".
Our usual routine was followed, so, laden with various packages, including a consignment of foul French cigarettes for Tony and very expensive French perfume for Ma and Mrs Marcham, we left for Merrie England on a hot July day and roasted our way up to London on the usual sweltering, overcrowded and slow train from Dover. I loved the flat at Albert Hall Mansions. Ma and Pa were very happy there and having John and Tim Parker living there was no hassle. John stayed quite a bit of the time across the Thames where his girl-friend's parents lived. She was in the violin section of the orchestra and when she stayed at the flat - blind eyes where she slept - they and Tim played trios. John and Myfanwy planned to get married next Easter. However, the great news when we settled down at the flat for a chat was that Tim was now also at the Opera House. He had been taken on as a rehearsal pianist and repetiteur. He was so happy. He said that the sessions with Lady Bing had been so useful. He had learned a lot of the basic repertoire and he'd been taken under the wing of an elderly Italian conductor who always demanded he should accompany the singers when he rehearsed.
While at the flat I saw the proof copy of Ma's next book, 'Death at World's End'. That explained how she'd got my French typewriter. World's End was a part of Chelsea and near the Fulham Road. I had the book taken away before I had a chance to read more than the first couple of pages and said I would be given one for Christmas. I said I would like one also for Dr Blake who had copies of the others but I'd never told him they were written by my mother. Another surprise for him!
I was rather restless to get to Kerslake but I had to let Daniel see more of London. More meant revisiting all the usual sights such as Buckingham Palace, St Paul's Cathedral and the Tower of London. More meant buying useless souvenirs and having his photograph taken standing next to a Beefeater at the Tower. More meant gawping at the very husky young Guardsmen on their horses in Whitehall outside Horseguards Parade. Their tight white breeches and high black leather boots and shiny helmets and cuirasses were ogled at. I wondered if they would look as virile in coney-skin jockstraps at one of Perce's cousin's parties? Wow, yes! The one I was nearest to I thought would be best in a black one, with long silky hairs, just waiting to be stroked! Ow! I had to drag Daniel away up the road to see where Mr Churchill lived before my erection got too noticeable.
Our arrival at Kerslake was welcomed with exuberance. Exuberance on the part of two small jumping up and down figures as the taxi drew up in the drive. If I thought Francis was voluble he was now overtaken by a chattering James. Daniel laughed at Jacko trying to balance two effervescent youngsters in his arms each gabbling away, an ear apiece. Milly and Maggy were at hand to rescue me. In fact, I hardly recognised Milly. She'd slimmed down, losing pounds of puppy fat and was now a rather pretty sixteen year old, still horse- mad and leaving school to work at the stables. I would have to keep an eye on Daniel as we didn't want any French thoroughbreds being produced.
Daniel was commandeered by both lads and he loved it. He sat in the garden with two rapt young boys perched on his knees as he read them from their favourite book, Swiss Family Robinson. He read very well, hardly a trace of a French accent, just that lovely fresh voice of his. As we lay in bed that night I hugged him and stroked his back and said I hoped that one day he would have sons.
"I would want sons like yours," he said before we started to make long, passionate love.
For me July and the beginning of August was a time of waiting, of indecision. I was in limbo. I had no job. I was well qualified. For what? I wondered if I should contact Dr Morris and see if they had a vacancy for a French teacher at my old school? Should I leave all that behind and ask Mr Marcham for a job at the estate agency. Both he and Mrs Marcham were very busy and I knew they needed staff. I didn't have Tony to talk to. He was still at Garforth Hall, cataloguing, riding horses, writing novels and masturbating twice a day, I assumed. A parcel did arrive. Another book to translate for Mr Blane. The others I had done had received good critical notices so I was acceptable in that role. This was another of the quasi-religious ones which, so Mr Blane said in his letter, were popular with the wavering Catholic readership. From the content it seemed to consist mainly of self-help props to consciences worn down by not confessing trivial sins.
In the first week of August I drove yet another new car of Mr Marcham's up to Chester with Daniel, Maggy and the boys to stay with Aunt Della and Uncle Edward so my grandparents could see the boys again. Julia, now seven, took them over and Maggy said she felt quite redundant.
Aunt Della had a real heart to heart talk with me on the third day of the visit. She was really worried about Lachlan. He hardly ever saw anything of Audrey. The film she had made last year was a roaring success in the States and it was being released over here in December. She was back in Hollywood making another film and was now co-starring with top names. Penny was at Audrey's mother's place in Surrey with a nanny looking after her. Lachlan was like a lost soul. She knew I was a confidant of his. Would I help?
I said when we last met he seemed somewhat withdrawn. He hadn't confided in me and I would wait until he said anything. I said I knew Lachs was a very strong person underneath but he needed support. If I was the person to supply it he would ask. I smiled and said I wasn't shirking my duty but when he needed me he would ask. She smiled and held my hand.
"You and my boys are very close, aren't you?" she said.
"We are," I said. "We are as one," I continued, echoing Lachs statement about he and Sayed.
It wasn't to say I wasn't worried about Lachs myself. I knew there was anguish there somewhere. But, Lachs, all in good time........
At the end of the week Daniel and I left James with Maggy and the loving care of Julia and took Francis with us to fetch Tony from Garforth Hall. We had planned to stay for three days but the visit stretched to seven. As soon as we drove up to the imposing building Francis was out of the car and taking charge. He eyed Travis and the footman and realised they were his servants. He suggested that the footman should not try to carry all the luggage but that Travis should assist. Butlers to noble Lords don't usually carry suitcases for visitors, they direct others to do so. Travis duly picked up a suitcase and marched off behind the footman.
"And tell that man there are more," came Francis's clear voice. Neck-breaker Travis had met his match.
Daniel and I were still grinning at each other when Lord Harford came round the side of the edifice accompanied by Tony, Charley and a large wolfhound which I assumed was the sister of Finbar. As Lord Harford shook hands with Daniel and me, the dog, or bitch as I noted, immediately went up to Francis, sat on its haunches and lifted a paw.
Francis solemnly shook it and after that Lady Ethne was his constant companion when roaming the estate.
"Good Lord!" was Lord Harford's response when he saw the happening. "Never seen her do that before!"
Charley then explained that Bruce had taught the dog to do it but it usually would only sit and do it for him. Francis also shook hands solemnly with Lord Harford and Charley before his Lordship herded us indoors, the dog obediently sitting outside, and Francis was introduced to Lady Harford.
"I like your house," announced Francis, surveying the room, "Did my granddad sell it to you?"
Travis appeared just as the laughter erupted.
"Did you bring my books in from the back seat?" came the imperious tones of the new young master.
Sergeant-Major Travis recognised the voice of the Colonel-in-Chief of the regiment.
"Yes, Sir," he replied imperturbably.
"Thank you," said young sir.
I had to do something to shut him up but he certainly was the star of the show. In fact, Travis and the footman took him over. He went down to the kitchen with them and we didn't see him again until it was time to put him to bed. Bed was in my room. A small child's bed had been placed in a corner of the huge room. I had the main bed to myself as we all had separate rooms in the immense mansion.
Bruce was missing. He was courting! He had gone straight from sorting out some problem for one of the tenants to another farm where the daughter was ready to put her knee on his nightie once the knot was tied, as Charley informed me and Daniel. Daniel liked the English idioms and rather startlingly, for Charley at least, said it wouldn't apply to me as I didn't wear a nightie in bed, I 'slept in the raw'. Another phrase he relished. I thought, young man, careful what you say or I shall have to squeeze your hefty young knackers when I get you in my bed again! Hefty young knackers! They were and he was now nineteen years old and equipped also with a hefty nearly seven inch Fontane cock! I came off best I thought. Both Johann and Daniel on the Fontane line were well-blessed. The Thomson line, if the endowments of my three cousins were a guide, was also favoured genitally. I was on both lines and sure I now edged even Gareth into second place. A smidgen over seven inches and nice hanging balls to match. Not boastful, just vain! Must measure on my birthday as I have done every year since I was fourteen! Anyway, Gareth was no slouch either as a potent sperm producer as I well knew. Having got married at the Easter his son Gareth Richard had been born in November 1951 and Amanda Fay had followed this January. The first Thomson girl, other than Julia, for generations! The Thomson tree was bearing fruit fast!
Over dinner I had to go over the family tree in detail. Lady Harford said it was incredible and the nicest thing was that Mary Crossley had the portrait. I must be proud of my ancestry. Oh dear! Jean-Antoine. A pornographic plagiarist! Actually I was proud. But I wondered how he wrote the stuff? Imagination or practical experience? Perhaps a little more research. I knew Rousseau confessed to beating his meat and waving his whang at young ladies. I had whiffs from my reading of an extensive demi-monde of debauchery in Paris at the time. Given that the other books were extant there must have been a parallel little, or perhaps not so little, world for young men like George and Arthur, too. As it happened they seemed to have spent more time in Paris and Florence in Italy from their early teens than in England. Neither had gone to Oxford or Cambridge but seemingly enjoyed their time away from England.
Both Francis and I slept soundly that night. He was awake early though and I was sitting up in bed reading to him, with him beside me, when Travis brought morning tea.
"I need to wee-wee," he announced, "but Daddy hasn't got anything on so would you take me, please?"
I looked at Travis and we suppressed our grins.
I wondered how often Sergeant-Major Travis had to guide new Second-Lieutenants to the latrines and see they withdrew their foreskins so they didn't pee all over the floor. He took Francis off with such aplomb. Francis was full of praise.
"Mr Arthur showed me where the lav was and I managed all by myself and he let me pull the chain."
I grinned at 'Mr Arthur'. His name below stairs.
Later in the day I thanked Travis for coping with Francis and asked if he was married as he seemed so adept at dealing with young children. He looked me straight in the eye, "No, sir, and not likely to be, but I've seen sufficient new recruits." Enough said.
Francis wanted breakfast so washed and dressed we were down choosing from the extensive offerings when Bruce came in. Francis rushed to him, was picked up and hugged. I didn't have to worry about entertaining Francis for our stay after that. Nor Daniel. Travis was a bit downcast. He hadn't been chosen for the British fencing team for the Helsinki Olympics, but he and Daniel spent hours fencing together. Lord Harford gave him full permission for this and in the afternoons would sit and watch the pair. I preferred to explore the countryside with Tony and Bruce. I found out that Tony was now quite an accomplished rider and went out with Lord Harford first thing in the mornings before doing the library work. He was putting the finishing touches both to the novel and his PhD thesis. Mr Blane had said his reader wanted to see the whole novel but what she'd read so far was more than acceptable. So Tony was spurred on.
We pulled Bruce's leg about being a lovesick swain. He was truly, madly in love and now he'd proved his worth to his Lordship and had a permanent position was intending to marry. We met Janet who was as nice as Bruce and built with it. Big, round-cheeked and jolly. Tony said he hoped it wouldn't be the height of frustration, two fat bellies and a short prick, but, from what Bruce had said, Dr Tillotson's treatment had resulted in a near normal maturity.
I helped Tony complete cataloguing another shelf of books. A motley collection of herbals and such-like which Tony said could be quite valuable from what he'd read in booksellers' catalogues. I scanned the rest of the shelves and there, nestled between 'Morley's Journeys' and 'Hints on Households' were two copies of Jean-Antoine's effort at plagiarism. Lord Harford guffawed when he saw them and presented me with one.
"Not often you find your ancestor's grubby work. My great-grandfather's were the human kind but yours is safely between the covers of a book." He dug me in the side. "Pity he never had the other one published, eh? Want a copy though in French and English bound up for the library here. Lock and key for it though to keep the rascal's hands off it!"
As the rascal was in attendance I didn't say he'd already read it and confessed he'd had to have at least one wank. Thinking about it, I'd had quite a few myself, especially when contemplating descriptions of young Allan, lusty Robin, brawny William,.... OK! All of them!!
And that was all I'd had while at Garforth. With Francis in the room my only consolation was my right hand. Daniel and Tony were the same. The appearance of the butler early in the morning would have put paid to any overnight stays. Still there was the rest of August and the beginning of September before Daniel had to depart. And I still hadn't got a job.
Tony reckoned he would finish the cataloguing by Christmas and if his thesis was acceptable he would probably have his viva in January or February. Then he had to make plans, too.
We returned to Chester on the sixteenth. Lachs had been and had left Penny and her nursemaid for an extended stay but he'd had to rush off because of pressure of work. Aunt Della looked even more worried and wasn't her usual chatty and witty self. Uncle Edward looked grim too. Audrey had sent a message that pressing business meant she would be staying on to tour before taking another promised role. She sent her love. But then, Rhys had news of real love. He and his girlfriend were to be married in October.
I liked Wendy. She was immune to Rhys' constant stream of wisecracks. Tony said he'd never imagined a funny haha lawyer, funny peculiar, perhaps! So that leaves only cousin Alun, my masturbatory mentor, masturbating alone still?
Tony and I took turns in driving back to Kerslake on Monday. Francis' only complaint was there were no kangaroos at Garforth and he and Lady, Lady Ethne, had looked everywhere. He was sure they hopped out of sight when they saw him and the dog coming. Could we go and see the kangaroos in the London Zoo again and the penguins and James wanted to see them too? Tony and I promised. Tony said we would take Daniel as well and put him in the lion's den. The explanation of that ate up a good few miles with Francis holding Daniel's hand and promising he would see he wasn't eaten, he was too nice and Daddy and Uncle Tony were nasty to say things like that.
That night young Daniel got gnawed first of all in all sorts of interesting places. In fact we both gnawed each other having missed any joint activities while at Garforth. In an interlude, he said he'd noticed that Thomas, the footman, kept making excuses to check on Arthur and him when they were fencing. Did I think they were boyfriends? I said I had wondered too. Probably, from what Arthur Travis had said to me about he was not likely to get married. If so, I guessed they practised parrying and thrusting. I told him Charley had said that Thomas had been a corporal under Arthur when he was CSM at the range. I gnawed Daniel's ear and said I expect Thomas was under Arthur just like Daniel was under me at that moment. Daniel responded by putting his legs up and round my back and unerringly guided my epee, 'en garde' he whispered, and thrust upwards himself.
Tuesday morning at eleven o'clock a telegram arrived. From the Master of Clare. 'Please to report at 11 Thursday next 21'. Succinct, to the point, words cost money, but what did it mean? Good job I was at Kerslake as it was the day after tomorrow. Tony telephoned the Porter's Lodge, fount of all information. Nothing known and Dr Blake was not in residence. I knew Dr Blake was away with his sister somewhere in France for most of the vacation and I doubted whether I could contact him. Tony asked if he should come with me. I said no. Would he and Daniel keep the boys amused and we would go up to the flat at the weekend and go to the Zoo.
So with some trepidation I caught an early train and arrived at the Porter's Lodge just after 10.30. Davy was there, looking very important.
"Mr Roberts is in the Master's Lodge, sir," he said, "Please would you wait in the Chapel until Mr Roberts is sent and to wear a gown."
The response to my raised eyebrows was a shrug of the shoulders. Young Davy knew nothing. I said I hadn't brought a gown with me. He opened a cupboard door and passed over an ancient graduate's gown, so old it had a greenish tinge, plus a rather moth-eaten looking mortar-board.
I went to the Chapel and sat. I browsed through my bag. Suspecting it was something to do with my thesis, probably being told I couldn't quote the 'secret book', at least in my English translation, or to be told I couldn't submit the same research for the Fellowship application., I had brought all my notes and a carbon copy of the whole thing. I'd had to submit three copies and the carbon of the fourth copy was pretty faint. I also wanted to pee. I was getting rather het up. I heard the clatter of boots and Willy appeared. He looked very serious and was in such a hurry to get me to the Master's Lodge he had no time to answer any questions.
I was quickly ushered into the main room of the Lodge. A long table had been set up just off the middle of the room. Seven gowned figures were sitting there. As I entered they all stood up and bowed. Never experiencing this before I, however, bowed back. Willy put a chair by my side and went, closing the door noisily.
"I expect, Mr Thomson, you are wondering why you have been called here so suddenly. Please sit," said the Master.
As I sat I scanned the row. The Master was there with the Dean beside him. I recognised the don who had conducted my viva for finals, the one who congratulated me on cheering up the old 'buffer'. There was a tall angular clergyman, high white collar and a thin ascetic face. I'd seen him riding an old-fashioned bicycle along King's Parade many times, I think he was an archaeologist. I had been to lectures given by two of the others on French and on German Literature. The seventh was small, red-faced and kept darting his small, beady eyes between me and the documents in front of him. I didn't know him at all.
The Master then introduced them all. The clergyman was the Reverend Doctor Palfrey, I remembered the name as it was said. The last one was introduced as Professor Johnson. The Master then went on in his precise way to say that as it was a matter of urgency the board had been convened to assess my application for a Fellowship. I was the only candidate and the urgency was that if I was not appointed then the post would have to be advertised and there wasn't much time before the new term began.
I rather shook my head in disbelief. I was the only candidate? I had only applied because Dr Blake suggested it. Before I could say anything the grilling began. The three Modern Language dons fired questions in either French or German. Mainly about what I had been doing and reading since being awarded my degree. They nodded benignly as I rattled off impromptu answers to their questions. The clergyman then asked, in beautifully accented German, where in Germany I had visited. I explained that during the war I had stayed at Ulvescott Manor and had met two Prisoners of War and had practised both my French and German. Also that the POW with whom I spoke in French had heard of my grandfather who had been a professor of theology in Strasbourg. I had visited Hans, the other POW, in Germany in the company of a French and a Swiss cousin and a friend who had been at King's. He nodded and the questioning passed to the don who lectured in French. We now spoke in English and he asked about my research submission for the Fellowship and was it the same as for consideration for a PhD. I said the purpose of my Junior Research Fellowship was to prepare for the doctorate. It was only recently it was suggested I should apply for the Fellowship as well. The three copies of my thesis were open on the table. I was then quizzed on everything possible about it. Luckily, I could remember almost every page having typed and corrected it. Then the red-faced don piped up.
"This appendix. I don't think that is acceptable. It is pornographic and has no place in a work of scholarship." He shut his mouth primly and looked round at the other dons.
There was murmuring and whispers between the three language dons. Before they had a chance to say anything the clergyman don looked round at the red-faced don.
"I found the appendix most illuminating and it is quite in keeping within the historical context from ancient Egyptian papyri, Greek, Roman and Renaissance literature and, if I am not mistaken, within the corpus of your own early English literature," he said.
"But it's highly pornographic and should be cloaked in the obscurity of the languages it was found in," the red-faced don expostulated.
"Come off it, Buffy," said the clergyman, "You weren't that prim when I was your fag at school. I had to construe quite a few of the so-called forbidden passages for you! More than a few, both from the Greek and from Latin. If I'm not mistaken you took copious notes."
The red-faced don went even redder, then shut his mouth tightly.
I couldn't let this pass. "I am perfectly aware that it is highly pornographic. This has concerned me quite considerably as I discovered recently that Jean-Antoine Leferreur, the author of that 'secret book', was my five times great-grandfather, but even so I think within the context of the time and the general tenor of my thesis it is quite appropriate to include it."
I enjoyed that moment. The dons looked at one another and in turn smiled and it took everything for the Dean, especially, not to burst out laughing.
The Master looked at me, a smile playing on his lips.
"Mr Thomson please stand."
I stood, rather shakily, put my mortar-board on and drew the gown down around me. It was rather short.
The Master looked up and down the table.
"Decision, gentlemen," he said, "Placet or non placet?"
All the dons put their mortar-boards on and stood.
The Master indicated the don at the furthest end away from the red-faced don.
He raised his square. "Placet."
Each don in turn repeated the gesture and the formula until the red-faced don was reached. Unhesitatingly he raised his square and in a very firm voice said "Placet".
The Master looked at me, raised his square, smiled and said "Placet. May I be the first to congratulate our new Fellow."
He came round the table and shook me by the hand, followed by all the rest.
"Sherry, gentlemen," was the next command. As if on cue, the hall door swung open and Willy entered, carrying a tray of glasses, followed by the red-haired buttery lad, Nick, with a tray of tidbits.
After that it was question time. How had I found out about the family connection. I pulled out the lengthy and rather complicated family tree from my bag and went through all the coincidences and the unravelling of the connections. I said the clinching point was the strawberry birthmark, in the same place, on three strands of the family. We all then went into the dining hall where we had lunch accompanied by three or four other dons who were always in residence. The whole time I was in a whirl. At the end of lunch the Master said I would be hearing officially in a few days and Mr Roberts, our new Head Porter, would show me my rooms now.
The red-faced don button-holed me as I left the hall. "Sorry about my interjection. Said it to clear it as all right. Get my meaning?" He smiled and shook my hand heartily. "Five times great-grandfather, eh? Marvellous. You must publish that account. Let me know."
Willy was waiting for me at the Lodge with an attentive Davy. I rushed up and hugged him. "Congratulations, Mr Roberts, it seems we've both made it!"
Willy then showed me my rooms. The old mathematics don who had died some time ago had left so much clutter, books and papers and no relatives who wanted it, so there had been a free-for-all amongst the mathematicians and at last all had been cleared. My three rooms, plus a newly fitted bathroom because the old boy had been a little incontinent, were beyond my wildest dreams. The shelves would look bare. I had amassed quite a collection of texts, dictionaries and reference books but nowhere near enough to fill even a quarter of the space. But there, in the middle of the floor were three tea-chests addressed to me, packed with a selection of books I could only have dreamed about possessing. A note on the top of one chest just said, 'A few books surplus to my requirements. Congratulations, William Butler'. How did he know?
I hugged Willy again. "I would never have survived if it hadn't been for you," I said. I laughed. "Never get on the wrong side of a Porter, eh? I hoped I never did!"
The biggest surprise of all was going through to the front of the college. There in a row were, Ma, Pa, Francis, James, Mr and Mrs Marcham, Tony and Daniel. I was hugged and kissed and congratulated on all sides. A telephone call from Davy, primed by a signal from Willy at twelve o'clock, had set part of it in motion. Ma and Pa were already on their way as they expected great things. However, the others left Kerslake immediately, driven by Mr Marcham at his usual breakneck speed. They had just arrived as I emerged.
I had a job. I would live in college. What about my boys?
"Is this your house?" asked Francis, "It's bigger than ours and looks nicer than Bobsy's."
'Bobsy's'? Oh, crumbs! Backstairs gossip from Garforth Hall.
"Only a bit of it is my house," I said.
"Can I look?" asked James, piping up for once against his more garrulous brother.
Willy came out to greet us and shook hands with everyone, including the two boys, as Pa introduced him. He led the way through and unlocked the main door.
They all surveyed my quarters and were entranced by the view of the Backs from the windows. I would need some furniture and pictures. I saw Mrs Marcham pointing into the main room with Ma at one point. No chintz curtains, I hoped.
Willy said in his sepulchral tones that the heavy curtains had gone for cleaning and there would be a selection of suitable carpets for the wooden floors. The desks and chairs could remain. As the two desks in the room were old and very magnificent, but in need of a bit of polish, I said they were most suitable. Could I have one of the blackboards removed, though, I thought one would be enough? Willy nodded. He whispered to me that there had been some jockeying amongst one or two of the other dons for the rooms but the Master and Bursar had decreed they were for the new Modern Language Fellow.
Daniel kept coming up to me with a huge smile on his face. "I am so glad. You will be so very happy. I want to come and see you when you are here."
It was a whirlwind after that. Pa and Ma said cheerio. Ma was in tears, she was so happy, too. Pa said if I needed anything, let him know, and he would also let 'Bobsy' know how I got on as he would be seeing him at a meeting in the morning. "Bobsy!" he said as he grinned and left. My son would be told not to tittle-tattle things he heard. But, at nearly four!
Both Tony and Daniel slept with me that night. I was so euphoric I can't remember what happened but none of us had much sleep. I fucked Tony and Daniel fucked me and then, and then, and then......... Who cares? Francis and James came in in the morning and found three snoring lumps. One day perhaps they would know what it was to be so deliriously happy.
Letters to be written, telephone calls to be made. I rounded up old school-friends, Tony, Nobbo, Cleggy, Kanga, Johnny Reed, Ned Carter, Benno Crabbe, Jimmy Crabbe, Phil Crowe, Johnny Wills, Greg Hall, George Abbott, Johnny Prosser, Pete Beckett, Mark Collins and gravelly-voiced John Hawks, plus Daniel, and we all went for a meal and a few drinks in celebration on the Saturday. I would have liked more friends but they had either left the town, living and working elsewhere, were on holiday, or doing National Service. I had so many friends and so many memories!
Tony, Daniel and I took Francis and an even more excited James to London on the Monday. We spent most of the day at the Zoo on Tuesday. Francis was sure one of the monkeys recognised him and was most put out when we said it was Daniel's brother. He was even more put out when the monkey, egged on by the crowd, started masturbating! "Has he got an itchy winkle?" I had to shut Tony up when he started to say that it was surely Daniel's brother as Daniel always had an itc.......!
**
Time flew. Dr Butler sent me a list of my tutor groups. He assumed I would be appointed a University Lecturer at some time as well but for the moment I would be responsible...... And, to be prepared for my viva for the PhD which was scheduled for Wednesday January the Fourteenth.
Letters flooded in from all over. Both my cousins in America wanted to know when I could visit. They were now married and both had a son apiece. Flea sent his letter from somewhere in the Middle East where he was training pilots. Lachs did a flying visit, literally an afternoon, looking harassed and unforthcoming about Audrey. A beautifully ornate letter came from another Middle Eastern state, from Sayed. Lord Harford said the Blue Boar card was permanent! But the most interesting letter was the one from Rome, from the now Father Michael O'Brien.. In all my excitements I had suppressed the knowledge he was ordained, in St Peter's, at Easter. He was now working somewhere in the bowels of the Vatican for some commission while still studying for his next degree. He had found his niche as well.
September 1952
Dear Jacko,
Just to wish you the heartiest congratulations. I knew
you could do it all those years ago when I first met you. Dad always
said you were the brightest kid he'd met which didn't say much for his
own offspring. And no doubt, your offspring follow in their Dad's
footsteps!
Little bit about me and you can tell me about you when
you write!!! I have definitely found my vocation. Not one regret. Well,
perhaps, a few things, but trivial. One was not getting enough exercise, so
Monsignore Vincente, who I have been working under, suggested I might
like to help an old friend of his, Padre Domenico, in his parish. It's in
a very poor part of Rome and PD has been there ever since he was
ordained and is now sixty-two. Very much loved and admired but over-
worked with the problems. Major problems being lots of kids in the
parish and he was worried the boys would end up thieving and so on
because of present troubles about the constantly changing governments
and no money.
I went along, minimal Italian, plenty of enthusiasm and
harried the kids. There's a big space around the church so we set up a
football pitch and a basketball court - court, a patch of dusty ground!
I begged footballs and a couple of basketballs from the Embassies
and the whole thing has taken off. I've been there nearly a year - went
as deacon first so no real parish duties. Kids are wonderful. Speak
Italian like a native now - a rather rough twelve-year-old's Italian with all
the slang I mustn't use in polite company! The kids were entranced
with the sight of 'Padre Inglesi' with football boots and shorts on under
his cassock! Name changed to 'Padre Cazz' when I and a fellow student
took twenty-five of the ruffians - 7 to 16 - to the beach at Ostia for the
day. Most had never been on a train before. I got the name as I was
determined to have a swim and the only swim trunks I had were those
I had when I was 16. Rather tight and revealing and I don't have to tell
you what 'cazz' is slang for!
The Brothers have sent out football shirts and shorts but
we need more. When you get to your college see if they have a lost
property collection. Anything welcome. Mothers are superb needle-
women. Boots and socks as well. Anything. Please!!!
Since Easter PD has roped me in for more parish work
including hearing confessions. Without breaking the seal of the
confessional I can tell you that Italian boys are exactly the same as
English boys - alone or with! They prefer to confess to me as they
don't think I understand what they say and, apparently, I don't threaten
them with hell-fire and damnation as well as blindness and insanity
which they used to get especially from some of the more stern curates
who never seem to have lasted. All they get is three Hail Marys
and no condemnation!
As an ordination present Monsignor bought me a pop-pop
bike - all the rage here and so useful as it was a fair way to walk to the
Parish. Second week I had it, it disappeared on the Wednesday while
I was coaching the lads. Pinched! They were incensed. On the
Saturday I was in the box hearing confessions when I heard a weeping.
It was some hulking eighteen-year-old, apprehended with his pal with
my scooter and brought to confession by at least a dozen silent
youngsters. He was so scared about what they might do to him and
his friend he pleaded that I talked to the boys. I can't tell you what
else he confessed to, but we now have two very enthusiastic helpers,
and I mean enthusiastic because underneath I have this feeling there
is good in everyone, and the kids bring in all sorts of stray others
for help. PD has fixed for three ex-rent-boys to be trained in a
local garage. Poor kids had been on the streets since the age of ten.
If it happens, it happens here.
I hear you see Maureen sometimes when you visit your
mother and father in London. She's a lucky girl! She brought Tim with
her when all the family came out for my ordination. Tim's got a future,
too. Monsignor got him a lesson with Signor Germani who, I understand,
was impressed. Anne's at Cambridge too from October. Doing something
on females in the Church in medieval times. Never know with her, she's
the clever one of the family!! Not saying Maureen isn't. She brought me
a small statuette she'd done - really beautiful. I still draw. The other
sisters seem to be increasing the Catholic population as fast as
possible. The bros-in-law are both teaching now. God help any lad who
misbehaves!
I have heard little about Vince. I hope he's made the right
choice. He is such a thoughtful character and often said he felt he'd been
cured so he could do something useful. I pray for him constantly.
Well that's me for the moment. Don't forget there's always
a welcome here. Bernie Doyle and Pat Halloran came out with the family
and were quite, I repeat, quite polite about the accommodation I arranged!
Yours forever, in thought and prayer,
Mike +
**
On September the thirtieth I was twenty-three. If I could cope I was settled in a job I could only have dreamed about. My sons were now four and three. I still had to sort out how I would be able to cope with them. If anything happened to me Tony would be appointed guardian. James was as bright as Francis, a bit quieter but determined in his own way not to be outdone. He could read, too, and Mrs Marcham had arranged for both to go to Nursery School three mornings a week and they had started and loved it. I smiled as I surveyed myself in the wardrobe mirror. The skinny fourteen year old with the young boy's body and prick was now six feet two, a forty-two inch chest, a thirty-two inch waist, a hairy chest and, yes, erect, it was seven and one tenth inches!
It was quite an emotional moment when we said cheerio to Daniel on Waterloo Station when he caught the train to go back to Paris. My stay with his parents was over. They were now my relatives, too, and in no way could I ever lose touch. He said Tony and I were to bring Francis and James with us at Easter and we could go to Versailles and stay at the flat with them, too. Perhaps we could all go to Neuchatel, perhaps we could see Hans and, perhaps, Herr Vogel he'd heard so much about. Could he come back next year? Plans, plans, plans!
**
My first weeks at Cambridge went in a whirl. I assiduously attended the lectures my students should be attending so I knew what to argue about in tutorials. I was invited to sherry parties galore. I had a couple myself in my now-furnished rooms. I found some pictures in an old art shop in Cambridge which I hung on the walls and pride of place was the now-framed drawing of a nude young Jacko done by Mike all those years ago. It was a talking point and I noted that every one of my tutees eyed it, query speculatively. Jem was back, with Sam. Jem appointed himself as my gyp even though he was now an assistant porter. Actually, young Davy was delegated the duty of waiting on me each morning. He was from the same mould as Jem, bright, gossipy and unswervingly loyal. He always checked to see that my portrait was still hanging there each day. I caught him staring at it one day. "Well-hung, isn't he?" I whispered as I came up silently behind him. His ears went bright red. He wasn't to be outdone. "More now!" he said, without turning round. He got an extra half a crown that week for flattery, or for telling the truth!
I had several invitations to dinner, either from bachelor dons in their colleges, or, like Professor Johnson and the Reverend Dr Palfrey, at their homes with wives and families. Willy asked if he might see the list and advise me on the acceptance in sequence with, most definitely, Professor and Mrs Johnson first! He was likely to be the next Master of another college and was a very important personage. I valued Willy's advice and actually that evening turned out to be quite momentous. Mrs Johnson was a don at Newnham, one of the colleges for ladies only. She was formidable as only lady dons can be, but the soul of kindness underneath. Among the guests was someone I knew. It was Anne O'Brien, fresh from Oxford where she had taken a first in Medieval History and a junior Fellowship and now transferred to this other place, Cambridge, to complete her Oxford DPhil. Naturally I invited her out for a meal and I would have to see what happens!
To be Continued:.................