Peter and I have been partners in crime for more than thirty years and our frumious activities remain dark and secretive to this day. We enjoyed rollicking in the woods (stealing flags, destroying enemy camps, a veritable chest full of treasures, family betrayal (yes, that letter that failed to flush is still in existance (in the British Museum, I believe), lovely Tablet, Magical Edward Bear, elusive Charles, scoldings from Wendy (and kisses and universal motherly wisdom), that distinct homey Collett smell, the best toilet library in the universe, peanut butter and lettuce sandwiches, holidays in Cornwall and Portugal, village hall productions (he was the Chinese porter with brother, if memory serves), playing rudies in the woods and the unfortunate "dog incident", adventuring in Dungeons and Dragons (one will recall young sprat Meron and his mighty struggle against the two terrible wizards and his successful assassination attempt, after seeing his comrades eaten alive by a giant octopus) and years of space trading on the floor of the spare bedroom (not forgetting Chuckie Egg and the lost gem Worst Things Happen At Sea). Days of The Humphrey Club and betraying his brother in a vicious egg pelting incident, narrowly avoiding being eaten by police dogs by scrambling onto a studio roof, force feeding wayward children frogspawn sandwiches and standing accused of burning down the village hall. Happy days. Memories that will serve me to my last, dying breath.
One should not forget the fatal deceitful meeting, involving a dictionary, a snake and a furious teacher. "There's a lovely boy lives just down the road.", "I know, mum. I have already met him."
Peter packed his kit bag and travelled the world and joined the order of teaching overseas in the Great Peter Reverse Barometer Psychology Swindle.
I remember meeting Peter one Summer day at Voller's house and finding him red as a beetroot and minutes away from a heart attack, I am sure. A strong whiskey restored his constitution. And here in Thailand he is known as the gentleman who is charming, funny....and crazy.
Boston Creams, Peter. Boston Creams.
To my oldest and dearest, and utterly fearless friend, I bid you Bon Voyage to the married life.
A river's going to flow across the land, across the land,
And a river's going to flow to the sea, to the sea.
And a boy is going to grow to a man, to a man.
Only once in his life is he free.
Thank you for making my childhood light years ahead of the rest.
1 comment:
Picked up, taken back, buffed up like a shiny new penny, fair undone and not in the usual way that my students have to remind me of. fairer words never were written.
Not much in the way of slander, but well...
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