SYD to LHR on a Plane
Jan 28, 2004, 3:02 pm
#77
Join Date: Mar 2001
Location: SYD
Programs: Too many golds, no plat: OZ*G, AC*G, NZ*G, VA Gold, QF Gold, HH Gold, Bonvoy Gold
Posts: 5,370
Without wishing to second guess our artiste at work, perhaps GoldFlyer means that it is QFWP's end that is near... 
<dramatic, ominous music swells on the soundtrack>
More! More! More!
<dramatic, ominous music swells on the soundtrack>More! More! More!
Jan 29, 2004, 3:29 am
#78
Original Poster
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: In Exile
Programs: QFF WP :-0, AC, FlyBuys, Porter's Liquor Store, Mother's Helper
Posts: 2,496
A few days on the wagon will do wonders or not for the creativity but here is:
Part 12
Wobbling from my seat I grasp at the seat in front of me. The combination of Vodka Dom’s has really kicked in and I’m feeling better than fabulous. I apologise sweetly to the nice lady in the seat in front who is scalding me like a matron schoolmistress while busily fixing her hair that is in a precarious twist and in grave danger of falling off – a wig perhaps and I concur with myself once I realise that her eyebrows are non-existent and there but for the sake of Max Factor brow pencil. In a moment of sharing, I warn her of the dangers of the Velcro strip holding the head napkin in place behind her head. Walking off I believe I salvaged a possibly difficult moment for her and a frightful shock for her fellow passengers. Feeling well pleased I forge on determined to explore the mightiness of this Aerobus. A discrete wood panel door opens before me and I see ahead, a galley and seating beyond.
A hive of activity is happening before me with crewmembers busily clearing away the wreckage of dinner. An argument appears to be in play over the leftovers of what appears to be chicken pasta with cheese sauce. Ribald comments are passing as the two busily snatch at the remnants. “AA” or “FA” I wonder as the two busily scoff at the carcass that are “the leftovers”. My presence remains unnoticed until another crewmember appears from the cabin beyond. Jim Cusa looks at me and the commotion of the galley and rushes in theatrically in an effort to alert his fellow crewmembers. Silence breaks out, as my presence is now apparent. Jim looks at me, his head at a peculiar angle as if he has water in his ear. I discover that “AA” is less than generous with staff meals resulting in the bickering commotion before me.
“Good evening sir, may I help you?’ He says.
“Just stretching my legs, a cocktail would be nice.” I say, feeling advantage is mine in this set.
Obviously chastised, all three rush into action in an effort to accommodate my request. The other crew are Jon Garfield, a portly chap with a vacant expression and Jessica Prim, a lass from Cisco, eager for rent relief, or relief of any kind as becomes apparent later. Afterwards, I discover they work “J” or “the business classes” and were perhaps chosen for their “J” rather than merit. My cocktail is ready, resplendent with pineapple garnish and maraschino cherry, presented by the attendants like a row of naughty school children. I am reminded of the time Mother had friends for a “Darts Evening”. All the gentlemen wore short pants and held aloft Cherries in obedience as they were called one by one into her “office” for discipline.
At first, conversation is a little stilted but I engage them with my story, aware perhaps that such discipline has forgone these characters and that perhaps their salvation is in a humble apple and a willingness to submit to the refined dignity and worldly experience of a true master of social interaction. Unfortunately I was never allowed to visit Mother on such evenings but would peer across the hallway as each of her disciples entered and later emerged, empty handed from her chamber with a chastened expression and an exchange of cash with those remaining in the line. Curious behaviour but then Mother was normally “Flushed” with funds following such evenings and would order a complete makeover of her chambers the following day.
My audience were entranced by my story and afterwards I felt a sense of accomplishment at having calmed such a primitive situation. I had entered the galley on a scowling, primitive moment and enlightened them with a simple story of offering, acceptance and a well-placed target. My scholarly juices aroused, I decide it’s time to perhaps take a class in the business section and match my talents with the offerings of this evening’s tutorial.
Jessica looks slightly perplexed at my request but after composing herself with a tissue after my story (a life-changing effect I consider), she shows me to an empty seat and enquires weather I would like another cocktail. Seldom one to drink whilst learning the finer points of academia, I decline and Jessica bows away still wiping her eyes at her enlightenment. I take my seat next to a pretty Australian Woman wearing an Akubra hat resplendent with dangling corks – Nelly Mobbs is her name.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Jan 29, 2004).]
Part 12
Wobbling from my seat I grasp at the seat in front of me. The combination of Vodka Dom’s has really kicked in and I’m feeling better than fabulous. I apologise sweetly to the nice lady in the seat in front who is scalding me like a matron schoolmistress while busily fixing her hair that is in a precarious twist and in grave danger of falling off – a wig perhaps and I concur with myself once I realise that her eyebrows are non-existent and there but for the sake of Max Factor brow pencil. In a moment of sharing, I warn her of the dangers of the Velcro strip holding the head napkin in place behind her head. Walking off I believe I salvaged a possibly difficult moment for her and a frightful shock for her fellow passengers. Feeling well pleased I forge on determined to explore the mightiness of this Aerobus. A discrete wood panel door opens before me and I see ahead, a galley and seating beyond.
A hive of activity is happening before me with crewmembers busily clearing away the wreckage of dinner. An argument appears to be in play over the leftovers of what appears to be chicken pasta with cheese sauce. Ribald comments are passing as the two busily snatch at the remnants. “AA” or “FA” I wonder as the two busily scoff at the carcass that are “the leftovers”. My presence remains unnoticed until another crewmember appears from the cabin beyond. Jim Cusa looks at me and the commotion of the galley and rushes in theatrically in an effort to alert his fellow crewmembers. Silence breaks out, as my presence is now apparent. Jim looks at me, his head at a peculiar angle as if he has water in his ear. I discover that “AA” is less than generous with staff meals resulting in the bickering commotion before me.
“Good evening sir, may I help you?’ He says.
“Just stretching my legs, a cocktail would be nice.” I say, feeling advantage is mine in this set.
Obviously chastised, all three rush into action in an effort to accommodate my request. The other crew are Jon Garfield, a portly chap with a vacant expression and Jessica Prim, a lass from Cisco, eager for rent relief, or relief of any kind as becomes apparent later. Afterwards, I discover they work “J” or “the business classes” and were perhaps chosen for their “J” rather than merit. My cocktail is ready, resplendent with pineapple garnish and maraschino cherry, presented by the attendants like a row of naughty school children. I am reminded of the time Mother had friends for a “Darts Evening”. All the gentlemen wore short pants and held aloft Cherries in obedience as they were called one by one into her “office” for discipline.
At first, conversation is a little stilted but I engage them with my story, aware perhaps that such discipline has forgone these characters and that perhaps their salvation is in a humble apple and a willingness to submit to the refined dignity and worldly experience of a true master of social interaction. Unfortunately I was never allowed to visit Mother on such evenings but would peer across the hallway as each of her disciples entered and later emerged, empty handed from her chamber with a chastened expression and an exchange of cash with those remaining in the line. Curious behaviour but then Mother was normally “Flushed” with funds following such evenings and would order a complete makeover of her chambers the following day.
My audience were entranced by my story and afterwards I felt a sense of accomplishment at having calmed such a primitive situation. I had entered the galley on a scowling, primitive moment and enlightened them with a simple story of offering, acceptance and a well-placed target. My scholarly juices aroused, I decide it’s time to perhaps take a class in the business section and match my talents with the offerings of this evening’s tutorial.
Jessica looks slightly perplexed at my request but after composing herself with a tissue after my story (a life-changing effect I consider), she shows me to an empty seat and enquires weather I would like another cocktail. Seldom one to drink whilst learning the finer points of academia, I decline and Jessica bows away still wiping her eyes at her enlightenment. I take my seat next to a pretty Australian Woman wearing an Akubra hat resplendent with dangling corks – Nelly Mobbs is her name.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Jan 29, 2004).]
Jan 29, 2004, 6:56 pm
#80
Join Date: Mar 2001
Location: SYD
Programs: Too many golds, no plat: OZ*G, AC*G, NZ*G, VA Gold, QF Gold, HH Gold, Bonvoy Gold
Posts: 5,370
Now GoldFlyer I hate to rain on your parade but I must make a serious complaint. A scurrilous rumour has done the rounds of FT to the effect that your aspirational flight attendant Dam Taat (he of the unorthodox nasal galley-cleaning technique) was in fact based on my own good self. Outrageous, I know, but these FT folk are a credulous lot. As a result, my reputation is shot and my inbox is bulging. I intend to make a formal complaint to Randy... just as soon as I finish dealing with the flood of proposals, pharmaceutical samples and tawdry tabloid offers to write a sensational serialised account of what really happened on that fateful flight. (I wanted to call it GoldFlyer exposed, but the editor insisted that would not be good for the circulation figures - oh well, he's the professional.)
I realise that such a depraved creature as yourself is probably well beyond remorse, but I feel I have to ask: what would Mother say if she knew?
I realise that such a depraved creature as yourself is probably well beyond remorse, but I feel I have to ask: what would Mother say if she knew?
Jan 29, 2004, 7:22 pm
#81
Original Poster
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: In Exile
Programs: QFF WP :-0, AC, FlyBuys, Porter's Liquor Store, Mother's Helper
Posts: 2,496
Oh dear, I feel dreadfully sorry about this mix-up. I admonish myself that I failed to place a number of warnings at the commencement of this report. As a consequence I’ve had tales of cats missing, computer keyboards wreaked and now a fellow member of the board with a reputation besmirched by innuendo and association by similarity shall we say.
I should therefore like it be known, although a little late, that the characters and events depicted in this report whilst possibly posing similarities to members and events as reported elsewhere on Flyer Talk are purely coincidental. Such dispersions say more about the person trying to make such comparisons than any possible similarity to circumstance or activity in this report that could by any stretch be attributed to the fine characters of the majority that make up the FT community.
Mad_atta, I will take my punishment as determined by the full tribunal of the FT Court of Message Board Abusers, and perhaps be found guilty in their eyes of such crimes that you accuse me. Before perhaps my ability to post is taken away (like a dummy from a baby) I will thank you all for a nice year or so and will have to resign myself to the embarrassing position of lurker and voyeur. You’re right though, Mother always told me never to regret what has passed otherwise you will miss out on life’s great pleasures, the here and now at the expense of what might be found in the toilet bowl tomorrow. I hope you too can learn from such wisdom.
I should therefore like it be known, although a little late, that the characters and events depicted in this report whilst possibly posing similarities to members and events as reported elsewhere on Flyer Talk are purely coincidental. Such dispersions say more about the person trying to make such comparisons than any possible similarity to circumstance or activity in this report that could by any stretch be attributed to the fine characters of the majority that make up the FT community.
Mad_atta, I will take my punishment as determined by the full tribunal of the FT Court of Message Board Abusers, and perhaps be found guilty in their eyes of such crimes that you accuse me. Before perhaps my ability to post is taken away (like a dummy from a baby) I will thank you all for a nice year or so and will have to resign myself to the embarrassing position of lurker and voyeur. You’re right though, Mother always told me never to regret what has passed otherwise you will miss out on life’s great pleasures, the here and now at the expense of what might be found in the toilet bowl tomorrow. I hope you too can learn from such wisdom.
Jan 29, 2004, 8:28 pm
#82
FlyerTalk Evangelist
Join Date: Apr 2001
Location: East Ester, Alaska
Programs: Alaska Million Miler, United Million Miler, Wyndham Rewards Diamond, Choice Hotels Diamond
Posts: 12,171
Geez - here I've been gone and out of touch with the internet for the past coupla weeks and look what happens!
GoldFlyer, this TR is an absolute masterpiece! If I've derived any benefit from having gotten into it so late, it's that I didn't have to wait for the next installments. On the other hand, I'll need to restock my aspirin supply to deal with my aching ribs.
Again, thanks for the great read! Talent like yours really does deserve a book someday!
GoldFlyer, this TR is an absolute masterpiece! If I've derived any benefit from having gotten into it so late, it's that I didn't have to wait for the next installments. On the other hand, I'll need to restock my aspirin supply to deal with my aching ribs.
Again, thanks for the great read! Talent like yours really does deserve a book someday!
Jan 29, 2004, 9:18 pm
#83
Join Date: Mar 2001
Location: SYD
Programs: Too many golds, no plat: OZ*G, AC*G, NZ*G, VA Gold, QF Gold, HH Gold, Bonvoy Gold
Posts: 5,370
<font face="Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" size="2">Originally posted by GoldFlyer:
You’re right though, Mother always told me never to regret what has passed otherwise you will miss out on life’s great pleasures, the here and now at the expense of what might be found in the toilet bowl tomorrow. I hope you too can learn from such wisdom. </font>
You’re right though, Mother always told me never to regret what has passed otherwise you will miss out on life’s great pleasures, the here and now at the expense of what might be found in the toilet bowl tomorrow. I hope you too can learn from such wisdom. </font>
You apologised so nicely that with any luck Mother has stopped spinning in her grave (though rotation is of course an occupational hazard of being buried in mortal embrace with a 747 nosewheel) so let us just call a truce, without bringing in the tribunal of the FT Court of Message Board (Self) Abusers, on the condition that the next instalment is produced without delay...
Jan 30, 2004, 2:19 am
#84
Original Poster
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: In Exile
Programs: QFF WP :-0, AC, FlyBuys, Porter's Liquor Store, Mother's Helper
Posts: 2,496
North to Alaska…… Mother loved that song so much; she would play it when a particular gentleman friend visited. He had a real way with Mother and her sometimes-peculiar peccadillos. She would have a private audience with him in the parlour. I recall being surprised that Mother’s voice had such an incredible range as she sung along
“way up north,
To Alaska”.
Eventually the record became scratched beyond listen ability and he just disappeared one day “up north” perhaps.
Mr. Seat 2A I’m honoured by your presence on my rambling waffle of a TR. I suppose I should add you to my list of damages as alluded to by others. At least Aspirin is something that I think I can cover within my expenses. Never take it myself as they send my ears ringing worse than a church on a Sunday morning. Nevertheless, I’ll be sure to pack some on my inaugural visit to Alaska some day. Well I read that Hell did indeed freeze over in America this week so it may not be beyond possibilities.
Dam, sorry, mad_atta, a reprieve and I am grateful although I note that a bulging inbox is hardly anything to be ashamed of unless it happens in polite company of course. As to the condition set down. You wont believe that I am still the target of the amorous pursuits of my 26-year old suitor. After a long weekend that we extended into the Tuesday due to a few too many beverages and a belief late on Monday evening that we hadn’t consumed quiet enough (read 2am), I have requested the pleasure of his company to my humble 3-bedroom 2-bathroom shack overlooking the bucolic splendour of Patonga. It was Mother’s private retreat to which I never ventured until after she …..died. Having cleared the unusual fittings such as a crucifix, black velvet drapery, handcuffs and an assortment of gadgets no sensible person would ever comprehend, the shack is rather restful to the soul and of course public transport late at night is not an option.
A further instalment may be a few days away but I believe I am on a knowledge gathering exercise and hope that the vigour and enthusiasm of my youthful guest will rub off onto me in someway so that I can devote a Sunday evening doing nothing better than creating the next instalment for my dedicated and encouraging readership.
My eyes smarted with the saline sting of tears on your mention of Mother’s unfortunate final resting position. I visit her graveside infrequently as I still want inside for her steady guidance and helpful prescriptions that make life so much easier to cope with. Still, on the Anniversary of her death I do make the journey and it is very easy to identify her grave in the sea of marble tributes. She, being a unique person in life has managed to carry it with her to the grave and is the only “resident” to boast a hillock and a tombstone, thanks mostly to the nose wheel.
I’m especially pleased that you enjoy the ‘Vodka Dom”, The queen of drinks indeed or perhaps a tipple fit for a Queen. It’s a shame I know to dilute the purity of a great Vodka but a little sparkle is surely a precursor to the pleasures beyond.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Jan 30, 2004).]
“way up north,
To Alaska”.
Eventually the record became scratched beyond listen ability and he just disappeared one day “up north” perhaps.
Mr. Seat 2A I’m honoured by your presence on my rambling waffle of a TR. I suppose I should add you to my list of damages as alluded to by others. At least Aspirin is something that I think I can cover within my expenses. Never take it myself as they send my ears ringing worse than a church on a Sunday morning. Nevertheless, I’ll be sure to pack some on my inaugural visit to Alaska some day. Well I read that Hell did indeed freeze over in America this week so it may not be beyond possibilities.
Dam, sorry, mad_atta, a reprieve and I am grateful although I note that a bulging inbox is hardly anything to be ashamed of unless it happens in polite company of course. As to the condition set down. You wont believe that I am still the target of the amorous pursuits of my 26-year old suitor. After a long weekend that we extended into the Tuesday due to a few too many beverages and a belief late on Monday evening that we hadn’t consumed quiet enough (read 2am), I have requested the pleasure of his company to my humble 3-bedroom 2-bathroom shack overlooking the bucolic splendour of Patonga. It was Mother’s private retreat to which I never ventured until after she …..died. Having cleared the unusual fittings such as a crucifix, black velvet drapery, handcuffs and an assortment of gadgets no sensible person would ever comprehend, the shack is rather restful to the soul and of course public transport late at night is not an option.
A further instalment may be a few days away but I believe I am on a knowledge gathering exercise and hope that the vigour and enthusiasm of my youthful guest will rub off onto me in someway so that I can devote a Sunday evening doing nothing better than creating the next instalment for my dedicated and encouraging readership.
My eyes smarted with the saline sting of tears on your mention of Mother’s unfortunate final resting position. I visit her graveside infrequently as I still want inside for her steady guidance and helpful prescriptions that make life so much easier to cope with. Still, on the Anniversary of her death I do make the journey and it is very easy to identify her grave in the sea of marble tributes. She, being a unique person in life has managed to carry it with her to the grave and is the only “resident” to boast a hillock and a tombstone, thanks mostly to the nose wheel.
I’m especially pleased that you enjoy the ‘Vodka Dom”, The queen of drinks indeed or perhaps a tipple fit for a Queen. It’s a shame I know to dilute the purity of a great Vodka but a little sparkle is surely a precursor to the pleasures beyond.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Jan 30, 2004).]
Jan 30, 2004, 4:27 am
#85
Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Wellington, New Zealand
Programs: NZ*G, QRPC Gold
Posts: 127
Goldflyer, this is just absolutely fantastic reading - flying will never be the same again.... I'm trembling with anticipation to what is next... and what terminal at LHR you will deal with (VIP)?
... and when is Goldflyer going to take on a RTW?
... and when is Goldflyer going to take on a RTW?
Jan 30, 2004, 4:20 pm
#86
Join Date: Feb 2001
Location: Berlin, Germany; Not in Indiana any more!
Programs: UA Gold, HH Gold, Dirt elsewhere
Posts: 164
Kudos to Goldflyer for this excellent report.
I was thinking about this while driving to work and it reminded me of one of Seat 2A's classic trip reports. I thought I would provide a link to it for those of you who may not have remembered or read it:
http://www.flyertalk.com/pasttalk/ft...ML/002429.html
[This message has been edited by InIndiana (edited Jan 30, 2004).]
I was thinking about this while driving to work and it reminded me of one of Seat 2A's classic trip reports. I thought I would provide a link to it for those of you who may not have remembered or read it:
http://www.flyertalk.com/pasttalk/ft...ML/002429.html
[This message has been edited by InIndiana (edited Jan 30, 2004).]
Feb 3, 2004, 4:22 am
#87
Original Poster
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: In Exile
Programs: QFF WP :-0, AC, FlyBuys, Porter's Liquor Store, Mother's Helper
Posts: 2,496
InIndiana,
Such distractions are really a driving hazard but I'm pleased you survived the journey. You may howevever regret posting your scribe upon this thread, lest you end up as "fodder" for the the unwary. Now, where is that search function?
My birthday tomorrow and well what surprises will I expect to anticipate.(that's a statement alright).Surprises must be confirmed at least 7 days before departure. A meeting with the executive to discuss my contract renewal, such bad timing perhaps. The "youngun", after a delightful weekend is keen to join the annointed one at dinner and work has been alerted to a possible "technical" on Thursday.
Readers, thanks for holding on, ATC will clear Part 13 shortly. A delightful weekend was had with my innocent companion. My rusty cooking skills (honed from years studying cook hacking away at all manner of produce and carcasses) worked their way to a man's heart as they say.
Part 13
Ms Mobbs is obviously taking the slower class, judging by the amassed “empties” gathering around her. She introduces herself and asks that I call her Nell in true Australian fashion for fear that her full name will create difficulties for the unwary or educationally compromised. Nell looks ripe for a chat so I whip out the telephone and ask Verity to bring me a small glass of Dom. A slight hesitation enters her voice when I explain where I am but I seem to relax her when I fib and say I’ve just met up with an old friend. In no time at all, Verity arrives with my half glass of Dom, she looks on disapprovingly at my “old friend” and I can’t help but think how quickly people are to judge others by first impressions. Verity leaves all too quickly as if she has entered an isolation ward by mistake. I reach for my hip flask and top up my “Vodka Dom”. These are delicious and I only wish Mother was around to try them. She was always one to experiment with her “comforts” but I’m sure this little concoction eluded her.
I toast my glass with Nell and take in her ruddy, puffed face, too much beer perhaps but kindly nonetheless and one can easily look beyond her follicular growth that would be more commonly expected on a man. Nell swigs at her beer and shifts her legs that stretch like a well-aged Chardonnay to the floor below. Despite my tiredness, I am engrossed in her story, told in a broad accent I barely recognised as that of a fellow Countryman. Certainly born and raised in the wrong part of the house, her parents were in service to a wealthy family performing menial tasks such as raking the gravel drive and deadheading the rose gardens. Nell strove above her station by accident. Of minimal educational exposure, Nell happened across an idea whilst peeling potatoes and wondering how they could be kept from discolouring. Her invention, a mixture of accident, luck and a rather unpleasant sulphurous emission discovered after a bit of “Dutch oven” experimentation with her Brother. This discovery propelled her from spud peeler to entrepreneur and a business that has her travelling the world.
Nell enjoys her work and recognises that she is often dismissed for her outward appearance when first presenting for an appointment. This embarrassment by her client works in her favour and she drives a bargain harder than a rod of steel, taking inner delight at their unease by thinking her a vagrant and ensuring her normal price is more than accomplished. I see a lot of my Mother in Nell, strong, confident and ready to pounce. Their appearances dismissive to the unwary but they soon find that they have made a serious blunder and are left like a fly in a spider web awaiting their fate. Mother met Father in a similar scenario, he a man of means and Mother a woman with means. Theirs was a tumultuous relationship from the start. Mother first met him whilst working as a secretary in a bank to which Father was CEO. Their marriage was a shock to all, coming in the middle of a scandal involving stories of embezzlement and private transactions. Luckily the marriage seemed to calm the waters and the scandal whimpered into nothing more than the crazed innuendo of an unnamed source.
Nell had many amusing stories; I especially liked the time she masqueraded as a gentleman at a buck’s party for an old acquaintance, Sfen Pallen who had “forgot his station” shall we say. After an evening of cigars, brandy and scantily clad table dancers, Nell joined the “toppers” to much hooting and hollering from the stag crowd and slowly proceeded to strip in a performance that left everybody speechless. More was to come though and after a quick change (of gender) the groom met his Alma Marta in a drunken haze of nicotine, booze and an old fashioned ritual grafted from the heady days of the snuffbox. Men, my Mother would say were at their most vulnerable under the spell of a quiet snort and snifter of brandy. The motel proprietor was stunned that the nice young “Mr. And Mrs. Smith” had such a quick separation with Mr. Smith making a hasty exit to much applause from a gathering of gentlemen in black tie gathered in the motel forecourt.
Sleep beacons, and I feel I’ve distracted Nell from her business studies too much, although the ungainly recline of the “students” around suggest that kip time is more prevalent to study. We swap cards and make a promise to catch up for dinner. Nell is staying at Claridges and I at Mothers favourite, The Dor. I say my farewell and wander back to the sanctuary of the First cabin and a sleep of the Gods.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Feb 03, 2004).]
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Feb 03, 2004).]
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Feb 03, 2004).]
Such distractions are really a driving hazard but I'm pleased you survived the journey. You may howevever regret posting your scribe upon this thread, lest you end up as "fodder" for the the unwary. Now, where is that search function?
My birthday tomorrow and well what surprises will I expect to anticipate.(that's a statement alright).Surprises must be confirmed at least 7 days before departure. A meeting with the executive to discuss my contract renewal, such bad timing perhaps. The "youngun", after a delightful weekend is keen to join the annointed one at dinner and work has been alerted to a possible "technical" on Thursday.
Readers, thanks for holding on, ATC will clear Part 13 shortly. A delightful weekend was had with my innocent companion. My rusty cooking skills (honed from years studying cook hacking away at all manner of produce and carcasses) worked their way to a man's heart as they say.
Part 13
Ms Mobbs is obviously taking the slower class, judging by the amassed “empties” gathering around her. She introduces herself and asks that I call her Nell in true Australian fashion for fear that her full name will create difficulties for the unwary or educationally compromised. Nell looks ripe for a chat so I whip out the telephone and ask Verity to bring me a small glass of Dom. A slight hesitation enters her voice when I explain where I am but I seem to relax her when I fib and say I’ve just met up with an old friend. In no time at all, Verity arrives with my half glass of Dom, she looks on disapprovingly at my “old friend” and I can’t help but think how quickly people are to judge others by first impressions. Verity leaves all too quickly as if she has entered an isolation ward by mistake. I reach for my hip flask and top up my “Vodka Dom”. These are delicious and I only wish Mother was around to try them. She was always one to experiment with her “comforts” but I’m sure this little concoction eluded her.
I toast my glass with Nell and take in her ruddy, puffed face, too much beer perhaps but kindly nonetheless and one can easily look beyond her follicular growth that would be more commonly expected on a man. Nell swigs at her beer and shifts her legs that stretch like a well-aged Chardonnay to the floor below. Despite my tiredness, I am engrossed in her story, told in a broad accent I barely recognised as that of a fellow Countryman. Certainly born and raised in the wrong part of the house, her parents were in service to a wealthy family performing menial tasks such as raking the gravel drive and deadheading the rose gardens. Nell strove above her station by accident. Of minimal educational exposure, Nell happened across an idea whilst peeling potatoes and wondering how they could be kept from discolouring. Her invention, a mixture of accident, luck and a rather unpleasant sulphurous emission discovered after a bit of “Dutch oven” experimentation with her Brother. This discovery propelled her from spud peeler to entrepreneur and a business that has her travelling the world.
Nell enjoys her work and recognises that she is often dismissed for her outward appearance when first presenting for an appointment. This embarrassment by her client works in her favour and she drives a bargain harder than a rod of steel, taking inner delight at their unease by thinking her a vagrant and ensuring her normal price is more than accomplished. I see a lot of my Mother in Nell, strong, confident and ready to pounce. Their appearances dismissive to the unwary but they soon find that they have made a serious blunder and are left like a fly in a spider web awaiting their fate. Mother met Father in a similar scenario, he a man of means and Mother a woman with means. Theirs was a tumultuous relationship from the start. Mother first met him whilst working as a secretary in a bank to which Father was CEO. Their marriage was a shock to all, coming in the middle of a scandal involving stories of embezzlement and private transactions. Luckily the marriage seemed to calm the waters and the scandal whimpered into nothing more than the crazed innuendo of an unnamed source.
Nell had many amusing stories; I especially liked the time she masqueraded as a gentleman at a buck’s party for an old acquaintance, Sfen Pallen who had “forgot his station” shall we say. After an evening of cigars, brandy and scantily clad table dancers, Nell joined the “toppers” to much hooting and hollering from the stag crowd and slowly proceeded to strip in a performance that left everybody speechless. More was to come though and after a quick change (of gender) the groom met his Alma Marta in a drunken haze of nicotine, booze and an old fashioned ritual grafted from the heady days of the snuffbox. Men, my Mother would say were at their most vulnerable under the spell of a quiet snort and snifter of brandy. The motel proprietor was stunned that the nice young “Mr. And Mrs. Smith” had such a quick separation with Mr. Smith making a hasty exit to much applause from a gathering of gentlemen in black tie gathered in the motel forecourt.
Sleep beacons, and I feel I’ve distracted Nell from her business studies too much, although the ungainly recline of the “students” around suggest that kip time is more prevalent to study. We swap cards and make a promise to catch up for dinner. Nell is staying at Claridges and I at Mothers favourite, The Dor. I say my farewell and wander back to the sanctuary of the First cabin and a sleep of the Gods.
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Feb 03, 2004).]
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Feb 03, 2004).]
[This message has been edited by GoldFlyer (edited Feb 03, 2004).]
