Hi Folks, it's 1969 and I worked in an office with a guy, I suppose you could call a mate but he was a few years older than me, who was engaged, but this didn't prevent him having romantic lunchtime liaisons with the telephonist, a cute brunette. Now I wasn't happy about this, not from a moral viewpoint but because he'd got two girls in tow I had none (at that time). So, as all's fair in love and war, I saw his engagement as sufficient reason for me to conclude there was nothing wrong in me making a move on Barbara (the telephonist).
I was aged 20 and I'd managed to scrape enough money together for the deposit on a new car, nothing flashy - and Austin 1300, Snowberry white black interior, in fact with me in the driving seat wearing my Ray-Bans I looked pretty cool (well, at least
I thought I did) Anyway its Friday about 4.00pm and without thinking too much about it I breezed down to reception where Barbara was seated at her telephone exchange, she took a few calls and then I thought:
no chatting up, no small talk, shoot from the hip, she can only say yes or no.
Barbara, would you like to come out with me tomorrow evening?
She said she would and arrangements were made; she lived in Sutton Coldfield, I lived in Erdington.
I was bang on time for our date and when she opened the front door
I was speechless - s
he looked absolutely sensational - she must have been getting ready for our date all day, at least I liked to think so.
Do you know what? I think we lost a bit of romance when car central-locking came in - like the perfect gentleman I led her by the hand to the passenger door open it and held it whilst she oozed into the passenger seat, she was wearing a mini dress.......
I think I'd better move on lads, you've probably got the picture.
I got in and we set off,
Where we going? she asked but before I could answer she continued,
By the way I've got to be home by 10pm.
I was lost for words.
10.00 0'clock?! In those day me and my associates went in the pub until 10.30 and then went on to a club, I couldn't believe it! A 19 year old under a 10pm curfew??
Well that really did put a dampener on things, including the choice of destinations that weren't going to take hours to get the there.
(Furthest I traveled to a nightclub for a Saturday night soire was Stoke on Trent) Immediately the Swan and Bull's Head at Yardley and the Factory and Top Rank in the city were ruled out and The Queens Head and Mother's in Erdington would have been tight, anyway we ended up at The Bel Air. We had a great time but it was all over far too quick, I got her home a bit late, only a few minutes, but when I departed the evening was still young, the one thing I do remember, and for that reason alone it made the night worthwhile,
she was an unbelievably good kisser, completely uninhibited - can't say anymore than that, if my wife gets to read this I'm dead.
I can't remember what happened after that, I think I just thought:
where could the relationship go with a 10pm curfew?
Pity really,
she would have been treated like a princess.
Ah Well! That's life.
Regards,
Peg.
P.S. I never saw them, but my wife saw the Moody Blues at the Bel Air - she said they were fantastic - Knights in White Satin -
as good as it gets.
P.P.S.
Was my mate peeved off? I'll say!! He never got to kiss Barbara like I did.
) I used to go there with friends after a night out sometimes, that was in the 70s.
