Reliving our youth

With Rocksey now reliving his wasted youth in Malaga with his 14 year old ( in spirit mostly) side kicks SP and Marsh  acting like they had been let loose on their first school trip, Melody, Suki and myself had been left to our own devices!! However, this hadn’t meant acting like a provisional Hen party running round town knocking back as many  fluorescent   pink shots as we could before closing time nor had we decided to be a bit up market and spend the day at Spa sipping Champagne, eyeing up the lifeguard no the three of us weren’t even together in person ( although there had been plenty of text messages backwards and forwards during the course of the afternoon). The reason for this , as guardians of 3 hyperactive flawed geniuses, some down time in the guise of complete solitude was needed before Suki and I jetted off to join the party next week . Melody was in Florida  to discuss her new book deal and close the deal on an apartment that had  been owned by Veronica Lake.

I had spent most of the weekend in the company of The Baron and Missy  which had been lovely but as all mums know waving a way their adult off-spring although tinged with sadness also allows you to enjoy the peace and quiet even more – compounded with the absence of Rocksey I was happy to make myself a cup of Bluebird Melon tea ( a gift from Missy which was most welcome) and find a book and a quiet spot in the garden to while away a few hours.

The thing about peace and quiet is that when you crave it you don’t get it and when you finally get it, well the silence is deafening ( you know Rocksey can be quite loud!). Having had 2 phone calls from him and a video and then further requests for vegan ice cream suppliers I decided that if I was going to get some peace and quiet I would have to turn the radio on.

So with an army of cushions, sun screen, sunglasses and a large G&T I slung everything in the hammock in the dappled shade of the middle patio and tuned in for my very favourite radio show –  The Sound of the ’70’s. This is a 2 hour show on a Sunday afternoon which plays….well you’ve guessed it ….music from the1970s. Of course, the large G&T the sway of the hammock and some of my favourite tunes and I dozed off.  Now sleeping in the sun is not a good thing, we’ve all done this, I see that Marsh did it this afternoon on the beach, Suki’s done it, Rocksey says he hasn’t but he fell asleep in the toilets at a Damned concert in 1979 ( and Boy THAT was loud) so I will safely assume he has also fallen asleep in the sun. SP also says he wouldn’t do anything that stupid but he let Rocksey video him twerking in a pair of speedos last summer and so I think that was probably more stupid than falling asleep in the sun…..Anyway I digress, slumbering in the sweltering heat of a June afternoon listening to Boz Skaggs, I was transported back to the summer of 1976 when I was 13. The Summer where the UK sweltered for 6 weeks ( yes I know)  and a plague of ladybirds ate everything in sight. As an awkward  tall skinny teenager I read the likes of teen magazines where Farah Fawcett Majors shone down from every newsstand with her lions mane of hair and sparkling white teeth and the girls from Abba sashayed across the TV every Saturday night. My friends older sisters were going to the Disco with their Afro hair and FFM flicks, platforms and maxi dresses smoking those pink cocktail cigarettes and meeting boys called Steve and Darren who drive ford cortinas and could dance like Les Gray. Oh me and my friends so wanted this glamorous lifestyle and , according to my friend Alison, the way to do this was to ‘GET A TAN’. Now getting a tan was easier said than done in the land locked town where we lived, 200 miles from the nearest beach with its cooling sea breezes. GETTING A TAN meant, that you had to do some pretty hardcore sunbathing in the back garden.Alison’s sister had a tanning mat which looked like a massive sheet of Bacofoil. The idea was we covered ourselves in olive oil ( bought in A teeny bottle from the pharmacy ) and then laid on the Bacofoil mat for 4 hours between the hours of 11-3 without moving . The Beauty page in Jackie said we should squeeze fresh lemons into our hair for natural highlights. –  well as no shop in the 70’s sold lemons we made do with a bottle of PLJ. The Bacofoil mat only  ever succeeded in Alison who was ginger, getting 3rd degree burns and her mother throwing the mat on her dads bonfire where the olive oil residue made it shoot out of the brazier like a flaming rocket setting fire to next doors washing; and for me? Well I would love to say my naturally dark brown hair turned as blonde as the blonde singer in Abba and attracted Steve or Darren’s younger brother but the PLJ made it a sticky mess which only attracted wasps, the Bacofoil just reflected off my blue tinged Persil white skin and did nothing except make me hot, sweaty and bad tempered.Alison and I fell out that summer and I spent the remaining school holidays lying in a sheet attached to the two apple trees in my granddads garden listening to Bos Scaggs and counting ladybirds. 

I woke with a start almost falling out of the hammock, Melody was on the phone from Florida telling me she had secured Veronica Lakes old apartment and the book deal had made her several millions dollars in sales. Now she was celebrating at her gay ex porn star friends villa in the hills where there were several hot body guards and a tray of fluorescent pink shots had just been handed to her. 

A ladybird landed on my knee,  Blondies Denis Denis came on the Radio and I was transported back to 1979 and that fateful meeting with Rocksey…… know the power of music is surely a great thing ! 

Mum…..this is Dave….Part 2

So Missy and Flossie were flying into Malaga on the last plane of the evening and it was now almost time to collect them from the airport.

It had been a gloriously hot day, the kind of day when there is a slight breeze and the sky is blue and the light so clear and dazzling. A day meant for sitting by the pool and taking a dip now and again and drinking cold beer and then putting on our glad rags and going out dancing.

Instead I sat clutching a now rather warm glass of JD and diet coke, ice long since melted staring blankly at the darkening night sky contempalting how I was going to react to seeing my lovely daughter with her latest love… a rather butch young lady called Flossie. Rocksey swirled the liquid in his glass and deliberated again half to himself…..I wonder if she’s a real lesbian…like in the films…..

The Baron and Dreads offered to drive to the airport to pick the girls up. Out of curiosity rather than being helpful. The Baron doesn’t do helpful.

The Band decided to go out and leave us to the family reunion alone.
Rocksey and I pottered around the villa and then sat on the terrace with a bottle of wine waiting……..

We heard them before we saw them. The Barons hire car blasting out with some Garage type tunes as it wound its way up the hillside to the villa. Rocksey and I look at each other. I’m not quite sure why I feel so upset perhaps because Missy had just expected her latest bombshell to be absorbed without any reverberating shockwaves or whether she had no problem falling in love with whoever took her fancy. I shouldn’t judge…Missy and I are very much alike but somehow this just felt ….well not quite right.

The Baron and Dreads were first up on the terrace. Dreads poured herself a glass of white wine and smiled broadly – he seems ok she said naively sitting down beside The Baron who was rolling what looked like a large spliff – you might need some of this -he grinned.

Rocksey was leaning over the terrace staring into the darkness punctuated only by lights from our distant neighbours – he was obviously preparing himself for a size 6 leggy blonde, all pouty lips and big boobs.

Mumma……..Missy was on me, kissing me on the head and hugging me close to her. I could smell her familiar perfume mixed with a more masculine scent. Missy Darling…I hugged her back pleased to see my beloved daughter- whilst trying to crane over her shoulder at the 6 foot hulk lurking in the shadows.

Mum …..this is Dave……she pushes Flossie into the light. Hello there says Flossie as she leans in for an awkward peck on the cheek. She smells like a man I think, why is Missy calling her Dave….?

A few drinks later and The Band are back. Rocksey is clearly more a ease and the drinks are flowing again. Dave has been drinking beer chatting away with Mr Lucky, both it appears are avid drummers – must be why she has such muscular arms I muse idly. Next tim eI glance over Mr Lucky is playing pool with the others, dave is no where to be seen, neither is Rocksey,

Missy is curled up like a kitten by my side. Why does she call herself Dave? I ask stroking her hair. Thats his name, missy murmers.

Suddenly Rocksey appears wild eyed running out from the villa looking frantically in mine and Missy’s direction. She’s got a cock he stage whispers pointing in the direction of the villa. She’s got a cock…a massive cock….

What? I look at Missy. Of course he has, Missy says patiently, Daves a bloke.

What? I grab Missy by the shoulder You told me …on the phone… had met a woman…..called Flossie… she not Dave? Is Dave not Flossie?

Missy grins mischeivously, ahh well you know me mumma, I met Flossie who introduced me to Dave and well Dave is so much my type. She jumps down off the sofa and goes off to find Dave ( of the massive cock). Rockesey snuggles down and wraps his arms around me …you see, he says stroking my hair, there was nothing to get so worked up about…..
and anyway, his cock might be massive but its not as big as mine……

Thank you for your wise words Rocksey, all is obviously still well in the world.