Chapter 3 Reception and Honeymoon
Only a handful of guests decided to go to the reception after the shambolic wedding service. The Vicar seemed totally unsure what to do in the Church and admitted it was the first time he had had a groom jilted. Pete was desperately trying to keep me smiling, although I think his rendition of ‘Always look on the bright side of life’ was going too far. I felt really embarrassed for Becky’s parents. Her mum was trying to hide the tears that were running down her face and her Dad was just shaking everyone’s hands and saying, ‘It’s not like our Becky’. The photographer was still taking pictures of everyone. I told him he wouldn’t be getting any money for them, but he said we’d signed the contract so we had to pay the full amount. He also gloated that Fleet Street would buy these pictures. So I was going become a public laughing stock, ‘Jilted Jon’. Becky what have you done? Where do we go from here? The wedding cake was perched proudly on display at the far end of the room. Nan had wanted to strike the figure of the bride off the cake with her stick, but my Dad had convinced her not too.
Pete was great at handling the remaining guests and flatly refused to give any presents back. It’s funny being given cards for a wedding that didn’t happen. Seeing the name Mrs. Rebecca Sadler written on an envelope was also very unnerving. Just wish I could escape this and every awkward conversation. All this pity was too much. I wasn’t ill and no one had died. Whenever someone slagged Becky off I had to defend her. After all she was the lady I loved. Carol came up to me and gave me a hug and a little kiss. It was strange because Carol was the only person not dressed up for a wedding. She had come in a grey vest top that revealed her black bra straps and black jeans. Her hair was tied back to show that she hadn’t been getting dressed up for a special occasion. Of course, Carol, had known the wedding wasn’t going to take place. She probably even knew before me. It would be easy to ask Carol lots of questions about what had been going through Becky’s mind, but this wasn’t the time. I just wanted to get out of there.
What do I do next? Do I make a speech to the dozen remaining people, or should I just creep off. It was then that Pete showed me that I was right to choose him as my Bestman as he made an announcement that even made me smile. He said, ‘Look everyone it has been a difficult day so please can you all bugger off now so I can get the groom to Villa Park ready for kickoff’. Within minutes all the hangers on had gone and Pete was pushing Becky’s parents into a complete stranger’s car. My parents were trying to convince my Nan that Becky wouldn’t turn up now and my Nan was just saying ‘I told our Jonathan he should have given her more oral sex, girls like that kind of thing these days’. It just seemed that I was no longer in control of what I was doing and was almost watching from above as Pete took total control. He even retrieved Nan’s stick from the large bowl of trifle. Almost without me being aware Pete had now fastened me into the driver’s seat of his precious sport’s car. Pete claimed he had had far too much to drink so I would have to drive. In a way this was Pete’s attempt at reverse psychology. He hoped by driving I would have less time to think. What was the plan now though? Pete said that as the wedding had been postponed due to unforeseen circumstances that we could go to the game after all. He was trying so hard and even tried to make me laugh, but I didn’t know how I was feeling. Interestingly Pete revealed that he had his season ticket with him in case he had been able to escape from the wedding reception in time for the game. The only problem now was that I hadn’t been so forward thinking and as I had planned to be going straight to the airport after my reception I hadn’t had the foresight to pack my season ticket. It was still in my drawer by the side of my bed in the Lichfield flat I shared with Becky. Now is that the flat I ‘share with Becky’ or the flat ‘I shared with Becky’? The second question was what to do about my season ticket. We had time to get back to the flat and get the season ticket, but was that a good idea? Obviously not because I don’t think I am ready to have the big talk with Becky. Pete, of course, was well ahead in thinking here and said that we would just have to pop into the Villa ticket office and explain that I have forgotten my season ticket. It was impressive how Pete was handling this, although maybe he was avoiding mentioning what was really happening. Yes, it was important to discuss whether Tommy Johnson should play up front or not, but maybe a mention of my jilted state would have been helpful. Pete though had no idea how to deal with this. He had bought a book from WH Smiths on the role of the Best Man, but I doubt this mentioned anything about, ‘In the event of the Bride doing a Runner’.
Everything starts to seem normal again. It’s difficult to explain but suddenly it is a normal Saturday afternoon with Pete and me on the way to the Villa. A day that started off as my Wedding Day is now another Villa Park match day. To many people this already was a Villa Park match day, but to me I had almost forgotten the importance of Aston Villa against Derby County. The only difference to normal as Pete and I walked through the grounds of Aston Hall towards the Trinity Road was that we were dressed in suits and wearing button holes. Nobody seemed to acknowledge this fact and even when passing familiar faces we just exchanged smiles, nods and the occasional ‘we need three points today’. Pete was talking away about what impact Sasa Curcic will have on his debut. I put my hand in my pocket to find some change for my programme and instead pulled out the box containing the two wedding rings. For the first time today a tear started to roll from my eye. Pete didn’t notice, but I was being hit by reality now. Yes, it was vital that the Villa win today, but it paled into insignificance to the fact that tonight was not going to be my wedding night. As the ground came into sight and we walked down from the grounds of Aston Hall I hurled the box with the rings in high into one of the trees. Why I don’t know. Was it a symbolic throw or just a show of anger. The box landed about twenty feet away from where we were walking and I decided to leave it there. Pete didn’t even stop talking about our new signing from Bolton and how he would be the final piece of the jigsaw and bring the best out of Savo, but casually walked over to where I had thrown the box, picked it up and placed it in his pocket. For once I was completely stunned and as I approached the turnstile forgot totally that I hadn’t got my season ticket. Pete again took control and led me to the ticket office. This was the Pete who I had taken control of so many times at school and kept us out of so much bother.
Just as the players are running on to the pitch we arrive at our Trinity Road Lower seats. We have had these season tickets for twelve years now and everybody around us knew us. We were Pete and Pete’s mate. Yes, as we walked in we were greeted by ‘Alright Pete’ from several rows. Sometimes I felt a bit miffed that they didn’t shout my name, but then I wasn’t a Pete. It was like nobody shouted ‘Cliff’ when Cliff enters the bar in ‘Cheers’, but they all greet ‘Norm’. I decided to hide my button hole to avoid any embarrassing questions. I had told a few people at the game the previous Wednesday that I was getting married on Saturday, but I don’t think anybody was really that interested. I mean, why should they be it doesn’t effect how I am at the match. All these people we only know what we see of them at the match. Their home-life is something we don’t need to know about. Joe who has sat to my left for the past six seasons may well be an alcoholic lollipop man who dresses up in women’s underwear during the week, but to me at 3pm, on a Saturday, he is just Joe who can sometimes be a bit smelly and always listens to the half time scores on his radio.
As the game starts I begin to get more involved in it and think less about Becky. Although Pete throws me back to reality with a joke that I feel is unnecessary. He says, ‘what is the difference between Tommy Johnson and you?’ I should have known better but I said I didn’t know. Then came the punch-line, “Tommy’s going to score today, you’re not!”
The game went well first Joachim scored and then Tommy Johnson did get his goal although it was a penalty. I had seen the Villa win for a second time in three days so that was an unexpected bonus from the day that was going to be my wedding Day. Should I ring Becky and see how she is? I am really worried about her and just wanted to hear her voice so I can tell her everything is ok and I still love her completely.
“Where to now?” I asked Pete as we tuned into Sports Report on his car radio humming along to the famous theme tune. Pete looked surprised at my question and then waved the plane tickets to Edinburgh at me. Surely Pete wasn’t expecting me to take him on my honeymoon and ride down in a romantic horse-drawn carriage with him. Part of me thought why not, but the other part thought my case is back at the flat and everything else I need. Possibly including the one thing I needed to make my honeymoon complete - a bride. Pete had been great but I really didn’t want to go any further with this pretence that everything was ok. Anyway, being a cautious chap I had taken out travel insurance so I could probably get my money back. After explaining to Pete why exactly it wasn’t a good idea to go and making it clear that it wasn’t him it was me I asked Pete to let the hotel know. The idea of sharing a four-poster bed with Pete was not something I had ever previously contemplated. The last time I had shared a bedroom with Pete he had kept me awake all night with the loudest and least tuneful nasal snores I have ever heard. I handed Pete my phone. Within seconds Pete was using his poshist ‘brummie’ accent to try and flirt with a Scottish receptionist. He told the lady, “My friend mister Sadler was using the honeymoon suite tonight but regrettably his bride has just been killed so they won’t be able to make it”. Perhaps he was going for the pity vote. After a few “yes”, “yes” and “thank you” comments Pete finished the call. He then told me it was good news because not only would they give me a complete refund but they are offering me a fifty pound voucher against any time in the next six months I wish to book the honeymoon suite. Perhaps if I could convince Becky still to marry me in the next six months we will be fifty pounds up on the deal. Of course, convincing them that she has risen from the death might be difficult.
Next Week : Back to the flat..
Showing posts with label villa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label villa. Show all posts
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Week 2 - A Text From The Bride
Heather came from Bakewell near Manchester, but she denied this made her a ‘Bakewell Tart’. We started to chat as mates, but the more I looked into her green eyes the more I began to think that perhaps I would like to get to know Heather better. Heather had a smile that was slightly naughty and by 1am that night I just wanted to kiss her. One month later and six ‘sort of dates’ I finally did kiss that lovely fellow student. There were earlier chances but our friendship was becoming more important every day so I was scared of making a fool of myself. It was Valentines Day 1988 when we finally admitted to each other that we were ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. This was probably my first serious relationship and I even took Heather home to meet my parents and my friends. Heather showed me the joys of Bakewell and we discussed the names that we would give our children. It seems strange looking back but the two of us never argued about anything. Heather was a bit of a Tom Boy and in some ways the relationship was more mates than lovers. Sex often was a bit of a giggle and perhaps lacked passion, but this was Heather and she had become my best friend and companion. We helped each other through our degrees and I think we were both completely faithful. Until I met Becky I thought this was the perfect relationship. We started getting Christmas cards to ‘Heather and Jonathan’ even though we lived over 50 miles apart. At the end of the course we had to decide what was going to happen next. We were both only twenty-three and not really ready to make big commitments so we couldn’t decide where we wanted to live. I wasn’t ready to finally leave the joys of Sutton Coldfield and Heather wanted to stay near her mum. We decided that it was time to put things on hold but stay as mates for the time being. It didn’t really work because we kept getting back together, but eventually we started to see less of each other and then Heather accepted a marketing position in Paris for a year and we drifted further apart. Heather was special and I had seriously tried to get Becky to allow me to invite Heather and her new boyfriend Jean Pierre to the wedding, but Becky had made it quite clear that no former shags should be allowed at the wedding. As this meant she couldn’t invite the smarmy Michael I happily agreed, although Heather said she was disappointed not to see her mate get hitched. Surely she would have shred a few tears at the sight of her ‘ex’ getting married. I certainly wouldn’t want to see her getting married to Jean Pierre, although Becky might like the idea of a weekend in Paris. Becky is the Manageress of a Travel Agency in Lichfield and is multi-lingual. She could happily hold a conversation with Jean Pierre in French and also speaks fluent Spanish.
For the past three months Becky has spent Wednesday evenings studying Vocational Italian. As a surprise for Becky at the wedding reception I have also been learning Italian via a CD supplied in the Sunday Times. It isn’t my normal read but they had sold out of both ‘The People’ and ‘The Mail on Sunday’ that particular Sunday morning. I intend saying part of my thank you speech in Italian. With my lack of linguistic ability this is ambitious and I hope that Becky will recognise it as Italian.
The radio-alarm clock that used to wake me up with Simon Mayo in my 6th form days often with his First Love slot was now showing 03:08 so the time until I get to see Becky in her wedding attire is now less than eight hours. Less than a normal working day. The recommended amount of sleep you should have each night. Although with my alarm set for quarter to eight I wouldn’t be getting my full quota tonight. Going through previous relationships had kept my mind off thinking about the things I need to do at the wedding. Check Pete has got the rings, put a pack of polo mints in my pocket to make my breath fresher, make sure everyone has a lift to the reception at Moor Hall Hotel in Sutton Coldfield. I could see the outline of my suit hanging on the door of the wardrobe opposite. At least Becky will like this as she was with me when I, or was it we, or was it Becky, chose it. To be honest I thought it was a bit too trendy for me, but Becky liked it straight away and said it would go perfectly with her dress. There was a definite hint of green to it and the lapel was quite narrow. Pete had been impressed when he first saw them although he had talked about us wearing claret and blue suits. All my previous suits had come from Burtons or Fosters so it was a first for me to go to Marks and Spencers, a shop I had always associated with my Nan and Sunday afternoon scotch pancakes that we ate watching the ‘Goldenshot’. Hope my Nan behaves herself at the wedding. At my sister Karen’s wedding she was trying to dance to Bad Manners’ ‘Can Can’ and ended up accidentally banging the vicar on his head with her stick. It could be worse this time because her mind isn’t quite as good as it was and she has started to get confused. At the Carol Service last Christmas she sang ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ superbly and very loudly – just a pity everybody else was singing ‘In the bleak mid-winter’. My Granddad died seven years ago and after grieving for a year my Nan decided that life was for living and went on a world cruise where she met another lady in her seventies called Jessie. The two of them then became a trouble-some twosome going to lots of Tea Dances in the hope of meeting men. My Dad found it very difficult to cope with and was appalled when my Nan asked if she could bring her latest boyfriend to Karen’s wedding. He was more taken aback to find he was black and twenty years younger than my Nan. In the end Nan agreed to bring Jessie instead and ended up with the two of them drinking more than everybody else put together. With my Nan’s blood pressure tablets this wasn’t advisable, but she is quite a large woman and can be scary especially when armed with her stick. Of course, the real side is a very caring lady who totally adores her four grandchildren who can do no wrong. Even when Karen left her husband Toby last year my Nan took Karen’s side and said that Toby didn’t do enough to satisfy her. She said he couldn’t even manage to give her a great-grandchild so he probably wasn’t any good in the bedroom department. This is the same lady who until she met Jessie wouldn’t have her telly tuned into Channel Four because it was too raunchy. Jessie died two years ago whilst the two of them were holidaying in Crete. She was eighty-three and doctor believed she died of exhaustion. My Nan was never quite the same since and her mind started to go soon afterwards. It’s sad but she decided to put herself into a home about six months ago and the first thing my Dad knew about it was when he received a change of address card from her. It really upset him, but my Nan knew that it was a decision he would never have made for her. I go to the home about once a week and generally love talking to my Nan. Yes, we often have the same conversation six times in an hour, but she still cares about things passionately. Only last week she was saying what she wanted to do with her stick to Gareth Southgate after he missed that penalty for England in the semi-final. She still watches her football but gets confused as to which players are still playing. She says that Nobby Stiles should have taken that penalty. Becky loves my Nan and often comes with me. All of her grandparents died before she was ten and this always upsets her. Nan told Becky she could adopt her as her Gran. Becky had taken Nan out last week to buy an outfit for the wedding and had to persuade her that a pale coloured trouser suit was probably better than the little black strapless dress she was looking at. Nan had spent an hour a few weeks ago repeatedly telling me that Becky was keen on me and that I should get her married as soon as possible before some hunky bloke might come along and showed her a good time. I am glad my Nan is going to be there on my big day.
My thoughts were distracted by the bleep of my mobile phone. I had only had it a month and still it took me unaware. Becky had decided that since we were living together we needed to be in touch so she had bought us each these mobile phones. I seem to spend all my time looking for it or walking around with a large bulge in my left-hand trouser pocket. As very few people had my number and very few of my friends have mobile phones it must be text message off my bride or the signal that my battery was going flat. I felt around on the floor where the jeans I took off last night were lying. Eventually I located the phone and the screen said ‘Message Received’. The thought of a message off Becky was exciting. Obviously she couldn’t sleep either because she was too excited. I tried to imagine her lying in our bed with her wedding dress hanging by the side of her. The image also included her sister Jenny lying beside her in the bed in a rather unflattering long nylon flowered nightie. This was an image I did not want to focus on. I am sure Jenny doesn’t think I am good enough for her baby sister. Jenny has a first class degree in History and doesn’t really consider a 2:1 in Business Studies to count as a proper degree. Jenny and her husband Gareth have six year old identical twin daughters called Beatrice and Lorna, but I can never tell which one is which. They are going to be Becky’s two small bridesmaids that will follow the beautiful Becky and plain Jenny up the aisle.
What does the message say then? I’d better check and then maybe I could get some sleep. It said the message was off ‘Future Wife’ I had recently changed her name on my phone from ‘Naughty Rebecca’ because Becky thought people might get the wrong idea if they saw it. I clicked to read the message. I noticed there was no kiss which was unusual for a Becky message. It read just ‘Are you asleep’. There wasn’t even a question mark. Of course I wasn’t asleep or how would I be reading this message. Even if I had woken up at 8am and read the message I still would not have been asleep. As it was a very special day I avoided my usual sarcasm and just replied back ‘No, are you xxxx’. It was now 03:42 and within seconds came another beep from my phone. Quickly I check the message and it shocked me. It read ‘Sorry I can’t go through with it x’. Well at least I had got a kiss this time but it wasn’t really the message I wanted at this time on my wedding day. Something seemed wrong, what had happened? How should I play this? Surprisingly for me I was very calm and texted Becky back, ‘Are you sure? x’. I just lay there trying to make sense of everything. The birds were starting to sing now but it felt like the world had suddenly stopped turning and I was about to be pushed off. The radio alarm clock clicked around to 03:48 and then the dreaded bleep came. It was like I felt when I opened the envelope with my A Level results in or when I rang the vets to see if my cat ‘Silvester’ had come through the operation and also how I felt when Gareth Southgate stepped up to take that penalty. The waiting was over the text said simply ,‘Yes’.
Next Week : The wedding day drama
For the past three months Becky has spent Wednesday evenings studying Vocational Italian. As a surprise for Becky at the wedding reception I have also been learning Italian via a CD supplied in the Sunday Times. It isn’t my normal read but they had sold out of both ‘The People’ and ‘The Mail on Sunday’ that particular Sunday morning. I intend saying part of my thank you speech in Italian. With my lack of linguistic ability this is ambitious and I hope that Becky will recognise it as Italian.
The radio-alarm clock that used to wake me up with Simon Mayo in my 6th form days often with his First Love slot was now showing 03:08 so the time until I get to see Becky in her wedding attire is now less than eight hours. Less than a normal working day. The recommended amount of sleep you should have each night. Although with my alarm set for quarter to eight I wouldn’t be getting my full quota tonight. Going through previous relationships had kept my mind off thinking about the things I need to do at the wedding. Check Pete has got the rings, put a pack of polo mints in my pocket to make my breath fresher, make sure everyone has a lift to the reception at Moor Hall Hotel in Sutton Coldfield. I could see the outline of my suit hanging on the door of the wardrobe opposite. At least Becky will like this as she was with me when I, or was it we, or was it Becky, chose it. To be honest I thought it was a bit too trendy for me, but Becky liked it straight away and said it would go perfectly with her dress. There was a definite hint of green to it and the lapel was quite narrow. Pete had been impressed when he first saw them although he had talked about us wearing claret and blue suits. All my previous suits had come from Burtons or Fosters so it was a first for me to go to Marks and Spencers, a shop I had always associated with my Nan and Sunday afternoon scotch pancakes that we ate watching the ‘Goldenshot’. Hope my Nan behaves herself at the wedding. At my sister Karen’s wedding she was trying to dance to Bad Manners’ ‘Can Can’ and ended up accidentally banging the vicar on his head with her stick. It could be worse this time because her mind isn’t quite as good as it was and she has started to get confused. At the Carol Service last Christmas she sang ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ superbly and very loudly – just a pity everybody else was singing ‘In the bleak mid-winter’. My Granddad died seven years ago and after grieving for a year my Nan decided that life was for living and went on a world cruise where she met another lady in her seventies called Jessie. The two of them then became a trouble-some twosome going to lots of Tea Dances in the hope of meeting men. My Dad found it very difficult to cope with and was appalled when my Nan asked if she could bring her latest boyfriend to Karen’s wedding. He was more taken aback to find he was black and twenty years younger than my Nan. In the end Nan agreed to bring Jessie instead and ended up with the two of them drinking more than everybody else put together. With my Nan’s blood pressure tablets this wasn’t advisable, but she is quite a large woman and can be scary especially when armed with her stick. Of course, the real side is a very caring lady who totally adores her four grandchildren who can do no wrong. Even when Karen left her husband Toby last year my Nan took Karen’s side and said that Toby didn’t do enough to satisfy her. She said he couldn’t even manage to give her a great-grandchild so he probably wasn’t any good in the bedroom department. This is the same lady who until she met Jessie wouldn’t have her telly tuned into Channel Four because it was too raunchy. Jessie died two years ago whilst the two of them were holidaying in Crete. She was eighty-three and doctor believed she died of exhaustion. My Nan was never quite the same since and her mind started to go soon afterwards. It’s sad but she decided to put herself into a home about six months ago and the first thing my Dad knew about it was when he received a change of address card from her. It really upset him, but my Nan knew that it was a decision he would never have made for her. I go to the home about once a week and generally love talking to my Nan. Yes, we often have the same conversation six times in an hour, but she still cares about things passionately. Only last week she was saying what she wanted to do with her stick to Gareth Southgate after he missed that penalty for England in the semi-final. She still watches her football but gets confused as to which players are still playing. She says that Nobby Stiles should have taken that penalty. Becky loves my Nan and often comes with me. All of her grandparents died before she was ten and this always upsets her. Nan told Becky she could adopt her as her Gran. Becky had taken Nan out last week to buy an outfit for the wedding and had to persuade her that a pale coloured trouser suit was probably better than the little black strapless dress she was looking at. Nan had spent an hour a few weeks ago repeatedly telling me that Becky was keen on me and that I should get her married as soon as possible before some hunky bloke might come along and showed her a good time. I am glad my Nan is going to be there on my big day.
My thoughts were distracted by the bleep of my mobile phone. I had only had it a month and still it took me unaware. Becky had decided that since we were living together we needed to be in touch so she had bought us each these mobile phones. I seem to spend all my time looking for it or walking around with a large bulge in my left-hand trouser pocket. As very few people had my number and very few of my friends have mobile phones it must be text message off my bride or the signal that my battery was going flat. I felt around on the floor where the jeans I took off last night were lying. Eventually I located the phone and the screen said ‘Message Received’. The thought of a message off Becky was exciting. Obviously she couldn’t sleep either because she was too excited. I tried to imagine her lying in our bed with her wedding dress hanging by the side of her. The image also included her sister Jenny lying beside her in the bed in a rather unflattering long nylon flowered nightie. This was an image I did not want to focus on. I am sure Jenny doesn’t think I am good enough for her baby sister. Jenny has a first class degree in History and doesn’t really consider a 2:1 in Business Studies to count as a proper degree. Jenny and her husband Gareth have six year old identical twin daughters called Beatrice and Lorna, but I can never tell which one is which. They are going to be Becky’s two small bridesmaids that will follow the beautiful Becky and plain Jenny up the aisle.
What does the message say then? I’d better check and then maybe I could get some sleep. It said the message was off ‘Future Wife’ I had recently changed her name on my phone from ‘Naughty Rebecca’ because Becky thought people might get the wrong idea if they saw it. I clicked to read the message. I noticed there was no kiss which was unusual for a Becky message. It read just ‘Are you asleep’. There wasn’t even a question mark. Of course I wasn’t asleep or how would I be reading this message. Even if I had woken up at 8am and read the message I still would not have been asleep. As it was a very special day I avoided my usual sarcasm and just replied back ‘No, are you xxxx’. It was now 03:42 and within seconds came another beep from my phone. Quickly I check the message and it shocked me. It read ‘Sorry I can’t go through with it x’. Well at least I had got a kiss this time but it wasn’t really the message I wanted at this time on my wedding day. Something seemed wrong, what had happened? How should I play this? Surprisingly for me I was very calm and texted Becky back, ‘Are you sure? x’. I just lay there trying to make sense of everything. The birds were starting to sing now but it felt like the world had suddenly stopped turning and I was about to be pushed off. The radio alarm clock clicked around to 03:48 and then the dreaded bleep came. It was like I felt when I opened the envelope with my A Level results in or when I rang the vets to see if my cat ‘Silvester’ had come through the operation and also how I felt when Gareth Southgate stepped up to take that penalty. The waiting was over the text said simply ,‘Yes’.
Next Week : The wedding day drama
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Week 1 - Pause and Rewind
Lying in a bed that is only five foot long, when you are over six foot tall and a twenty-nine year old man, sleeping is challenging, but when you add the fact that in less than ten hours time you will be getting married it becomes an impossibility.
Here I am in the bed that I used to sleep in when I was ten in the bedroom where my Action Men used to stimulate sex with the girl nextdoor’s Cindy dolls - which was difficult with their lack of genitals. So much has happened since those days and that burning summer of ’76. The girl next door now lives in New Zealand with a very muscular bloke named Clive and the Action Men are currently packed in a cardboard box in a Storage Unit near Walsall. The rubbery flexible fingers of the Action Men have not survived so well during the past two decades. Mind you I can talk, because my fringe has disappeared on to the top of my head and can now only be seen from above. As I lie in this small bed I try to think if any of my school mates are now as follicley challenged as me now they are approaching their 30’s.
According to my old digital alarm clock, which my Dad had specially got out of a box in the loft for me, it was now 02:14 so if I assume it takes 14 minutes to get to the marriage vows in the service this means that in just nine hours time my marital state will change from single to married. I think I am ready for this life change, but so many thoughts are going around my balding head including highlights of all my previous relationships. ‘All of’ means four and some people might think that calling the two weeks with Beverley Evans a relationship was pushing it. We did nearly share a kiss outside the ABC cinema in Walsall. Just wished she had mentioned her feelings for Karen Shelton earlier!
Susan Richardson was the first girl I ever experienced with an above average sized chest. I was sixteen and on my way to take my Chemistry O’Level when I first spoke to Susan. Why it took me so long I don’t know because we had shared a bus journey most mornings for over three months. The last four mornings she had even come and sat by me. That day I had my head in the Lett’s Chemistry revision Aids book revisiting chemical equations. Suddenly I felt Susan’s large chest, squashed into a red polo-neck sweater, push against my arm. With her gingery hair, perhaps red was maybe not the most discrete colour to wear, but she had chosen to sit by me. Looking around I saw a number of seats she could have chosen including a double to herself two rows in front. That was the time for conversation and with the summer holidays nearly on us I had nothing to lose. Conversion went well, Susan tested me on my Chemistry, she asked me out on a date and within three weeks I had my hands inside that very same red polo-necked sweater. As I was lying there on my side the morning of my wedding I spent time remembering how it felt to first touch the bosom of Susan Richardson. What would she be doing now; perhaps that large chest is now being shared by two twin baby boys? I have always had difficulty controlling my mind at night, but tonight it was totally out of control. What kind of changes will happen to my thoughts once I say “I do” or was it “I will”?
The great relationship with Susan fizzled out before I received my Chemistry O’level certificate, but it encouraged me to look for another relationship and within weeks I was dating Amanda. Now what was Amanda’s surname? I am sure it started with a ‘P’. Parker, Parson, Peacock…..no I can’t think of it. Was it Harrison? Amanda was tall, slim with very long straight brown hair. She was probably the most attractive girl I have ever been out with until Becky, who I was going to marry in just over eight hours time. I must try and get some sleep to look my best for the big day. Don’t really want to have big bags under my eyes on the wedding photographs. Wedding photographs, that is a really scary thought. I have yet to see a photograph of me when I don’t look like a weirdo with red eyes. The photographs will probably have Becky looking like a sensational bride with her perfect wavy blonde hair and curvy figure, standing next to this bloke who looks like an extra from the Adam’s Family.
Sutton Coldfield College of Technology and the A’level Sociology class in room 606 was the place where I, Jonathan Sadler, met Amanda. The class was full of strange looking hippy types apart from me and Amanda and from the very first lesson I wanted to get to know Amanda better. Being tall and skinny I sometimes looked a bit awkward and my clothes didn’t always look quite right. Even so I was determined to seduce the lovely Amanda. Within two weeks we were working on a project together on the behaviour of old people in public. I managed to make this last every lunch time for six days. We studied old people in Supermarkets, in restaurants and just in the street. Every day we talked more intimately and got closer. At the end I invited Amanda back to my house to write the project up.
It was in this very room just a few feet from where I was born that I first tried to kiss Amanda. I say ‘tried’ because she failed to notice the first time and I ended up kissing her hair. Undeterred though I went in again and soon I had moved her lips round to meet mine. Success, I had seduced the very attractive Amanda. We then started a relationship that lasted over a year. Although, sometimes Amanda seemed more concerned with checking her appearance in the nearest mirror than being with me, I was still honoured to have Amanda as my girlfriend. Looking back I never really thought it would last. Amanda was out of my league and always destined for a more hunky boyfriend. She was clever, but we often were on different wavelengths and did not really like each others friends, athough, Amanda often said she thought my friend Pete was quite hunky. Nobody has ever called me hunky. It was a Thursday evening in July just two weeks before my 18th birthday that I decided to finish things with Amanda. She had been the only girl I had slept with at that point, but still I didn’t feel close enough to her. I always felt that there was still another wall that I had to get through before I could find the true Amanda. I remember asking her what she wanted from our relationship and she said that she wanted somebody else. She then declared she had been seeing another bloke for the last month so we kissed passionately then unexpectedly made love for a final time on floor of my bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t ‘making love’ but it was the best sex we had. After we said goodbye that night we never saw each other again. I don’t even know if she also passed her Sociology A’Level.
Becky is even more attractive than Amanda and we are so on the same wavelength. Often I know what she is going to say and what she is thinking. We agree on so many subjects from politics to religion and our favourite colours for bathrooms. Becky also has a more shapely chest than Amanda although not as out of proportion to her body as the boobs of Susan were. My favourite part of Becky though is definitely her firm and rounded bottom that I love to touch at every opportunity. Perhaps I will have to resist that temptation later today when we are standing at the altar. I can’t wait to see the dress she will be wearing. All I know is that it is white and Becky says reveals her shoulders. She says that I will find it very sexy and that I will have to control myself and avoid any unexpected bulges in my trousers. Sounds a bit pervey but I am looking forward to seeing the underwear under the dress tomorrow night, I mean tonight now! A number of friends at my Stag Night told me not to expect any sex on my wedding night because it never happened for them because they were too drunk or tired after the big day. The image I have in my mind now of Becky in her wedding undies is very arousing.
I feel so lucky that Becky Holloway came into my life and even luckier that she is going to marry me. Perhaps the seduction of Amanda gave me the confidence to pursue a lady as gorgeous as Becky. The clock clicks over all the numbers to say 03:00. How I wished I was back in my little flat in Lichfield which I had shared with Becky for the last four months, but my parents wanted me here in the family home in Sutton Coldfield away from Becky for the night. Becky was at the flat with her older sister and chief bridesmaid Jenny. We were moving to a new house in Alrewas in two weeks time and our first joint mortgage. It had been a very stressful few months with buying houses and planning weddings. I can’t remember the last time the two of us just had a normal conversation which didn’t involve ‘The House’ or ‘The Wedding’. It was fun though, going to all though Show Houses when we were looking for a new home and I will never forget what we got up to in the bedroom of that Bryant Show House with its black furnishings. Everything just feels so right with Becky.
Hopefully Becky will be my final relationship and hopefully it will be a very long one. It would be ideal if we both had mega heart attacks whilst celebrating our seventy-fifth wedding anniversary. I am not quite sure if there is a name for the seventy-fifth one or even the seventieth. I would be one hundred and four when this event happens though and Becky a younger one hundred and three. We might have stopped our energetic love-making by then though. Perhaps we can buy a book on enjoying sex when you’re eighty-plus. Do old people start to get turned on by wrinkles and smell of wee when they get past eighty?
If Becky is my final relationship it means that Heather Shaw was my penultimate one. Heather was my obligatory University relationship and possibly the other girl I could have married. She was short with a short blonde hair and a medium build. It wasn’t an instant attraction and certainly not a relationship either of us planned. Something happened at a Friday night party in the second year of our Business Studies degree course at Liverpool University that still makes me smile when I think about it. I went to the party because Pete was staying with me for the weekend and he wanted to meet some real ‘student’ girls. Pete wasn’t thick, but there was never a chance of him going any further than A’Levels. He had started work as a builder just after I started university, but we had stayed close. Still we went to the Villa games together when I was back home and that weekend the mighty Aston Villa were playing at Everton. The party was a 70’s theme night, but Pete wasn’t going to dress up so we just went as ourselves and really stood out. Interestingly with Pete next to me I seemed to be attracting attention from girls in my classes that normally didn’t want to come near me including the legendary April who had caught my eye at the very first lecture. Now with this muscular builder she was behaving like my best mate. Even if she called me ‘Johnny’. Pete was impressed that a beautiful lady seemed so friendly with me, but it became obvious that she only had eyes for Pete and even Pete realised this when she asked if she could feel the muscle on his arm. Pete though is a very good friend and when he got the chance followed me to the gents to ask if anything was going on between me and April. I thought it was only girls that went to the loo in pairs and maybe this gave off the wrong signals because suddenly I was aware of a lad in a purple shirt with a big afro wig smiling at me. Something was not right about this, but I gave him a wave in case it was someone in one of my lectures that I couldn’t recognise. I told Pete the news he wanted to hear that April and I were not ‘really’ an item and that I wouldn’t mind if he made a move. Out came Pete’s black comb which he always kept in his right-hand jean pocket and he flicked it through his spikey blonde hair. He was then off back to where April was still holding his drink. Next time I saw Pete that night he gave me a thumbs up as he was examining April’s tonsils with his tongue.
What happened next to me was pretty strange and slightly worrying. The bloke in the purple shirt came over and started talking to me. He seemed pleasant enough but was standing worryingly close. I suppose with the loud music he had to stand close so we could hear each other. He said his name was Adrian and that he saw me and my friend go into the gents together. It was a strange conversation and I began to feel uncomfortable. With horror I suddenly realised I was being chatted up by a bloke! It was at this point that a short blonde girl from my Business Studies class came to my rescue. Heather just walked up to me and gave me a kiss on the lips and said, ‘Hey babe, have you been waiting long?’. Within seconds the distinctly unbutch Adrian made his excuses and left. I was stunned and quite pleased by the actions of this small lady. She explained that she could see I was having problems and knew that I wasn’t that kind of lad. For the first time we then chatted and chatted.
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Here I am in the bed that I used to sleep in when I was ten in the bedroom where my Action Men used to stimulate sex with the girl nextdoor’s Cindy dolls - which was difficult with their lack of genitals. So much has happened since those days and that burning summer of ’76. The girl next door now lives in New Zealand with a very muscular bloke named Clive and the Action Men are currently packed in a cardboard box in a Storage Unit near Walsall. The rubbery flexible fingers of the Action Men have not survived so well during the past two decades. Mind you I can talk, because my fringe has disappeared on to the top of my head and can now only be seen from above. As I lie in this small bed I try to think if any of my school mates are now as follicley challenged as me now they are approaching their 30’s.
According to my old digital alarm clock, which my Dad had specially got out of a box in the loft for me, it was now 02:14 so if I assume it takes 14 minutes to get to the marriage vows in the service this means that in just nine hours time my marital state will change from single to married. I think I am ready for this life change, but so many thoughts are going around my balding head including highlights of all my previous relationships. ‘All of’ means four and some people might think that calling the two weeks with Beverley Evans a relationship was pushing it. We did nearly share a kiss outside the ABC cinema in Walsall. Just wished she had mentioned her feelings for Karen Shelton earlier!
Susan Richardson was the first girl I ever experienced with an above average sized chest. I was sixteen and on my way to take my Chemistry O’Level when I first spoke to Susan. Why it took me so long I don’t know because we had shared a bus journey most mornings for over three months. The last four mornings she had even come and sat by me. That day I had my head in the Lett’s Chemistry revision Aids book revisiting chemical equations. Suddenly I felt Susan’s large chest, squashed into a red polo-neck sweater, push against my arm. With her gingery hair, perhaps red was maybe not the most discrete colour to wear, but she had chosen to sit by me. Looking around I saw a number of seats she could have chosen including a double to herself two rows in front. That was the time for conversation and with the summer holidays nearly on us I had nothing to lose. Conversion went well, Susan tested me on my Chemistry, she asked me out on a date and within three weeks I had my hands inside that very same red polo-necked sweater. As I was lying there on my side the morning of my wedding I spent time remembering how it felt to first touch the bosom of Susan Richardson. What would she be doing now; perhaps that large chest is now being shared by two twin baby boys? I have always had difficulty controlling my mind at night, but tonight it was totally out of control. What kind of changes will happen to my thoughts once I say “I do” or was it “I will”?
The great relationship with Susan fizzled out before I received my Chemistry O’level certificate, but it encouraged me to look for another relationship and within weeks I was dating Amanda. Now what was Amanda’s surname? I am sure it started with a ‘P’. Parker, Parson, Peacock…..no I can’t think of it. Was it Harrison? Amanda was tall, slim with very long straight brown hair. She was probably the most attractive girl I have ever been out with until Becky, who I was going to marry in just over eight hours time. I must try and get some sleep to look my best for the big day. Don’t really want to have big bags under my eyes on the wedding photographs. Wedding photographs, that is a really scary thought. I have yet to see a photograph of me when I don’t look like a weirdo with red eyes. The photographs will probably have Becky looking like a sensational bride with her perfect wavy blonde hair and curvy figure, standing next to this bloke who looks like an extra from the Adam’s Family.
Sutton Coldfield College of Technology and the A’level Sociology class in room 606 was the place where I, Jonathan Sadler, met Amanda. The class was full of strange looking hippy types apart from me and Amanda and from the very first lesson I wanted to get to know Amanda better. Being tall and skinny I sometimes looked a bit awkward and my clothes didn’t always look quite right. Even so I was determined to seduce the lovely Amanda. Within two weeks we were working on a project together on the behaviour of old people in public. I managed to make this last every lunch time for six days. We studied old people in Supermarkets, in restaurants and just in the street. Every day we talked more intimately and got closer. At the end I invited Amanda back to my house to write the project up.
It was in this very room just a few feet from where I was born that I first tried to kiss Amanda. I say ‘tried’ because she failed to notice the first time and I ended up kissing her hair. Undeterred though I went in again and soon I had moved her lips round to meet mine. Success, I had seduced the very attractive Amanda. We then started a relationship that lasted over a year. Although, sometimes Amanda seemed more concerned with checking her appearance in the nearest mirror than being with me, I was still honoured to have Amanda as my girlfriend. Looking back I never really thought it would last. Amanda was out of my league and always destined for a more hunky boyfriend. She was clever, but we often were on different wavelengths and did not really like each others friends, athough, Amanda often said she thought my friend Pete was quite hunky. Nobody has ever called me hunky. It was a Thursday evening in July just two weeks before my 18th birthday that I decided to finish things with Amanda. She had been the only girl I had slept with at that point, but still I didn’t feel close enough to her. I always felt that there was still another wall that I had to get through before I could find the true Amanda. I remember asking her what she wanted from our relationship and she said that she wanted somebody else. She then declared she had been seeing another bloke for the last month so we kissed passionately then unexpectedly made love for a final time on floor of my bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t ‘making love’ but it was the best sex we had. After we said goodbye that night we never saw each other again. I don’t even know if she also passed her Sociology A’Level.
Becky is even more attractive than Amanda and we are so on the same wavelength. Often I know what she is going to say and what she is thinking. We agree on so many subjects from politics to religion and our favourite colours for bathrooms. Becky also has a more shapely chest than Amanda although not as out of proportion to her body as the boobs of Susan were. My favourite part of Becky though is definitely her firm and rounded bottom that I love to touch at every opportunity. Perhaps I will have to resist that temptation later today when we are standing at the altar. I can’t wait to see the dress she will be wearing. All I know is that it is white and Becky says reveals her shoulders. She says that I will find it very sexy and that I will have to control myself and avoid any unexpected bulges in my trousers. Sounds a bit pervey but I am looking forward to seeing the underwear under the dress tomorrow night, I mean tonight now! A number of friends at my Stag Night told me not to expect any sex on my wedding night because it never happened for them because they were too drunk or tired after the big day. The image I have in my mind now of Becky in her wedding undies is very arousing.
I feel so lucky that Becky Holloway came into my life and even luckier that she is going to marry me. Perhaps the seduction of Amanda gave me the confidence to pursue a lady as gorgeous as Becky. The clock clicks over all the numbers to say 03:00. How I wished I was back in my little flat in Lichfield which I had shared with Becky for the last four months, but my parents wanted me here in the family home in Sutton Coldfield away from Becky for the night. Becky was at the flat with her older sister and chief bridesmaid Jenny. We were moving to a new house in Alrewas in two weeks time and our first joint mortgage. It had been a very stressful few months with buying houses and planning weddings. I can’t remember the last time the two of us just had a normal conversation which didn’t involve ‘The House’ or ‘The Wedding’. It was fun though, going to all though Show Houses when we were looking for a new home and I will never forget what we got up to in the bedroom of that Bryant Show House with its black furnishings. Everything just feels so right with Becky.
Hopefully Becky will be my final relationship and hopefully it will be a very long one. It would be ideal if we both had mega heart attacks whilst celebrating our seventy-fifth wedding anniversary. I am not quite sure if there is a name for the seventy-fifth one or even the seventieth. I would be one hundred and four when this event happens though and Becky a younger one hundred and three. We might have stopped our energetic love-making by then though. Perhaps we can buy a book on enjoying sex when you’re eighty-plus. Do old people start to get turned on by wrinkles and smell of wee when they get past eighty?
If Becky is my final relationship it means that Heather Shaw was my penultimate one. Heather was my obligatory University relationship and possibly the other girl I could have married. She was short with a short blonde hair and a medium build. It wasn’t an instant attraction and certainly not a relationship either of us planned. Something happened at a Friday night party in the second year of our Business Studies degree course at Liverpool University that still makes me smile when I think about it. I went to the party because Pete was staying with me for the weekend and he wanted to meet some real ‘student’ girls. Pete wasn’t thick, but there was never a chance of him going any further than A’Levels. He had started work as a builder just after I started university, but we had stayed close. Still we went to the Villa games together when I was back home and that weekend the mighty Aston Villa were playing at Everton. The party was a 70’s theme night, but Pete wasn’t going to dress up so we just went as ourselves and really stood out. Interestingly with Pete next to me I seemed to be attracting attention from girls in my classes that normally didn’t want to come near me including the legendary April who had caught my eye at the very first lecture. Now with this muscular builder she was behaving like my best mate. Even if she called me ‘Johnny’. Pete was impressed that a beautiful lady seemed so friendly with me, but it became obvious that she only had eyes for Pete and even Pete realised this when she asked if she could feel the muscle on his arm. Pete though is a very good friend and when he got the chance followed me to the gents to ask if anything was going on between me and April. I thought it was only girls that went to the loo in pairs and maybe this gave off the wrong signals because suddenly I was aware of a lad in a purple shirt with a big afro wig smiling at me. Something was not right about this, but I gave him a wave in case it was someone in one of my lectures that I couldn’t recognise. I told Pete the news he wanted to hear that April and I were not ‘really’ an item and that I wouldn’t mind if he made a move. Out came Pete’s black comb which he always kept in his right-hand jean pocket and he flicked it through his spikey blonde hair. He was then off back to where April was still holding his drink. Next time I saw Pete that night he gave me a thumbs up as he was examining April’s tonsils with his tongue.
What happened next to me was pretty strange and slightly worrying. The bloke in the purple shirt came over and started talking to me. He seemed pleasant enough but was standing worryingly close. I suppose with the loud music he had to stand close so we could hear each other. He said his name was Adrian and that he saw me and my friend go into the gents together. It was a strange conversation and I began to feel uncomfortable. With horror I suddenly realised I was being chatted up by a bloke! It was at this point that a short blonde girl from my Business Studies class came to my rescue. Heather just walked up to me and gave me a kiss on the lips and said, ‘Hey babe, have you been waiting long?’. Within seconds the distinctly unbutch Adrian made his excuses and left. I was stunned and quite pleased by the actions of this small lady. She explained that she could see I was having problems and knew that I wasn’t that kind of lad. For the first time we then chatted and chatted.
Next week : The unforgetable wedding day. Sign up now for weekly updates.
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