A Groovy Education with Bev and Carol

HALF PRICE today:  'Bunny on a Bike' - 80s London (humorous memoir of a Playboy croupier): viewBook.at/B0089FB71O 

Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel.

Episode Five

Wake late.  Wall to wall swearing.  No time for tea.  Can’t find hairbrush. Universe too quantum.

Morning lecture (in French!) on Corneille’s ‘Le Cid’.  Another tortured love story in which Chimène (v. fussy heroine) and Rodrigue (another victim of medieval code of honour) almost get together, between duels. 

Prof. jovial, competent.  Notes a mess, need to write up later in EITHER English OR French, (not combination of both).  Proud of self.    

Early lunch in university canteen with Beth (misplaced London socialite).  Ate liver (not hers) and onions, sautéed potatoes, soggy green beans, followed by jam roly poly.  Watched Beth eat lettuce leaf, tomato, part of orange segment.  Macrobiotic. Listened to Beth complain about Mike (postgrad with facial hair, bad breath – penchant for garlic marinade, and owner of recently manufactured car). 

Welcomed unexpected brief interlude - stung by wasp (crawled inside leg of my jeans).  Beth had anaphylactic shock on my behalf. (Like watching goldfish on carpet.)  Killed wasp, applied handy vinegar to sting – lucky guess.  Beth took inhaler in lieu of adrenalin.

Observed Professor Whitehead (Philosophy) collecting unconsumed cheese portions from trays.  Hobby or necessity?  Or giant pet mouse?  

Beth worn out after eating uncooked carrot.  Went for nap.

Picked up grant cheque. HOORAY!  Paid canteen bill (termly – subsidised – be mad not to). 

Beloved Renault pootled to bank to make deposit.  Bought recommended course books, new dress, soap.  Phoned father. Love and silence.

Home to Room.  Elsa called.  Union disco scheduled, cider (Bulmer’s dry) purchased, cheese on toast melted.  Helen tempted (by disco).  VBFH tempted (by cheese on toast).  Elsa bemused (by non-babe contingent).

Selected black satin stretch trousers, white crepe blouse, black shiny belt.  Platform boots, black.  Elsa, immaculate in silver.  Helen amazed.  Sylvia appalled.  RESULT!

Black hole of Union sucked us in.  Event horizon breached.  All rules of known universe broken.  Music emitting mysterious pulsar beat, stomach vibrating. PREDATORY thoughts.  Smokey layers, dark and darkest.  Beings clustered, talking, smoking, staring out. 

Elsa brilliant dancer/terrible bore (hiding from Andy).  What the…?

Ram Jam.  Black Betty.  OBLIVION…

to be continued…

A Groovy Education with Bev and Carol

HALF PRICE today for a trip down memory lane.  'Bunny on a Bike' - 80s London (humorous memoir of a Playboy croupier): viewBook.at/B0089FB71O 

Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel.

EPISODE FOUR

Met tutor – pastoral care.  Small, fluffy, harmless.  Would make good child’s toy.  

Lemon tea, a first (and last). 

Joss sticks throughout.  Herbal sandalwood, apparently.

Decided university accommodation marginally better, for staff – larger, purpose-built box with separate kitchen/bathroom/living/sleeping.  View of larger car park with less knackered cars. 

Jasmine happy to help (no badge).  Any time of day or night.  What with? (Not specified.)  Assumptions raced through mind.  Unpleasant/unsubstantiated.  Reprimanded self, and focussed.

Calm and smiling new friend/mentor produced folder containing sample timetable. Hard to suppress yawn. Noticed Rosie and Jim calendar on wall. WEIRD. Song started up in head.  Tried to concentrate. Jasmine preoccupied with timetable, colour coded.  Wondered what she had in mind.  Wondered about the meaning of life.   

Hungry. Biscuits provided.  Munched.  Jasmine proceeded to explain importance of organisation/regular habits/programmed study/soft crayons.  Happy, clappy, crappy evening.  Bless.

Rosie and Jim, Rosie and Jim, chugging along on the old Ragdoll…

Room.  Hello, Room (capitalisation intended).  NEED tomato soup, good book (reading list dire – love you Chaucer… love you Milton…).  Soup heated and bowled.  Spoon located.  Turned to La Princesse de Clèves (French reading list).  Psychological novel (one of first EVER.  Published 1678).

Heavy going.  Laudable.  Heavy going.  Downward spiral of long-suffering heroine.  Downward spiral of long-suffering reader.  Downward spiral of latter into pillow and oblivion.

‘WORKING AT THE CAR WASH, YEAH!  WHOA, WHOA, WHOA…’

Awake and dancing. VBFH drunk, Helen drunk.  Vast improvement.  Party on!

To be continued . . .

A Groovy Education with Bev and Carol

 Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel.

EPISODE THREE

Girl in next room called Helen.  Very classical.  Name, not girl.  Girl upstairs called Sylvia. Vicious Bitch from Hell.  Best friends with Helen.

Descriptions:

Helen - thinnish, tallish, with curly brown hair that shines (lack of hair product abuse), fine set of teeth, pale skin, slight Irish accent. Overall assessment:

wholesome/loyal/fun.

Sylvia - bulky (moves like a wrestler), square-faced, goggle-eyed, greenish aura (oozing calm and balance).  Overall assessment: she doesn’t like me (and never will).

BUGGER!

Difficult to get Helen alone.  VBFH omnipresent.  Also omnivore (specialist subject – Toblerone). 

Invest in Christmas-sized triangular chocolate.  VBFH happy.  Still hates me.

Give up for a while. Lull VBFH into false sense of security?

Academic concerns lend yours truly smug aloofness. Lectures mixed.  Bad to bloody awful.  Lecturers bored to death with bog-eyed zombies viewed from lectern, presumably. 

Today’s literary topic:  ‘Kingship in Shakespeare’ (capitalised at centre top of A4, underlined).  American lecturer, not ancient – nice legs, no-nonsense delivery.  Distracted by ‘Miss Whiplash’ image.  Literary references too thick, fast and spangled for pen (and brain).  Long hour.  If had crown would let slip over eyes.  Would be glad of kingly gowns too big for bearer.  Lecture room door very far away.

Cold outside.  Inadequate fake fur jacket (used to be white).  Running home.  La di da!  Brrrr!

Helen alone – BINGO – in need of normal friend!  Have tea and listen to ‘Wishing on a Star’ Rose Royce.  Difficult for AC/DC fan like myself.  Interminable slush - gift from Helen’s boyfriend.  True love, apparently.    Listen and sympathise (exercising eyebrows) until VBFH arrives to ‘smile and smile and yet be a villain’.  Find am harbouring residual Shakespearean insight. Sylvia would make good hag.  Anaemic.

Frozen out by Sylvia’s stare.  Send out threatening vibes: ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’.  Leave gracefully.  Smug (unjustifiably).

Elsa, new friend from neighbouring block, knocks - we go out.  Elsa has plan to punish Andy (boyfriend) by surreptitiously ignoring him in Union bar.  We sit, aloof.  I am eyes/ears.  Reporting back.  (HOW IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?)  Elsa – baby blonde, squeaky voice, pouty, size 8.  Adored.  By all. Knows everyone.

SMALL DAGGERS IN (NORMALLY DAGGERLESS) EYES GROW LARGER.

Realise am invisible in glow of superior beauty.  Quietly outraged.  Sneak back to hall for curative toast and tea. 

More uncalled for Rose Royce. 

Retaliate with ABBA.  No longer 17, but still aspiring Dancing Queen.  Oh, yes.

To be continued…

A Groovy Education with Carol and Bev

Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel.

EPISODE TWO

Location, location, location.

Ten-minute walk onto campus (if late for lecture), twenty-minute stagger back, (if tipsy), circular never-ending maze (if under the influence of Southern Comfort).

Today, exploratory tour of campus (no alcohol). 

Wore bright blue velvet jacket over button-through checked maxi-dress and favourite platform sandals, bought from Dolcis’ during moment of spontaneity into which consideration of outrageous price did not enter.  Rocked myself there and clomped around library, having registered but forgotten to bring reading list. BIRDBRAIN!  Illustrious temple of learning and chewing gum more or less empty – Saturday, before lunchtime. 

Outside, weather behaving very well for October.  Scouted off, noting small but well-equipped laundrette, tiny superette selling produce at extortionate prices. Gasped at sixties monstrosity dominating quadrangle - leggy students’ union, den of iniquity and shrine to political busy-bodies. BRILLIANT!

Entered with intention of flouting authority. Glad of rainbow eye-shadow and ‘Polyblonde’ hair. Edgy.

Found pigeonhole with name on it, stuffed with welcoming literature (secretly pleased).

Notice boards advertising all manner of clubs/forthcoming events, (browse later). 

Behind stairs, treasure trove of games machines. Whines, screeches and bangs, squeak of soft shoes on linoleum - best collection of eye-candy in town. BOYS! Scruffy, hungover, oozing sex-appeal.  BAD!  -  obviously spent great deal of time drinking beer and killing aliens/blowing up cities.  Noted.

Up wide stairs and through to bar, murky/pungent even during day, unhealthy/sticky, EXCELLENT! Realised full potential would only be evident during hours of darkness.  Checked out jukebox for fave bands. LOADED. Resolved to return with bottle of cider, later. 

Visited gig/events room - soon to be favourite disco hothouse.  Congratulated self on very bloody good choice of educational establishment.

Wended way back to Room, tra la, via superette (rice pudding, Ambrosia - lunch). 

Full of joys of autumn, randomly hatching plan to befriend girl in next room (looked nice).

Rocked myself back to hall with enthusiasm.

DISASTER - beloved sandal (left foot) snapped in middle - nearly broke ankle/neck/wind.

 

Arrived bare-foot. Lay on bed, listening to ‘Rumours’ (Fleetwood Mac) being played in several rooms at same time/not at same time! 

Fabulous start to groovy education.

Brain sparkle.  Deep sigh of contentment.

To be continued …

A Groovy Education - Episode One

Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel.

 This is the second post.  Introduction posted 9/12/13.

ONE

Room. 

On arrival, was disenchanted.  Central, voice-amplifying staircase - bad design, kitchen - large, functional/heartless, actual Room (capitalisation intended) for next three years – featureless, with miserly bed, stunted wardrobe, ambitiously proportioned desk plus chair.  Surprise ‘extra’ - wash basin inside cupboard - useful for practical jokes.

Ferried up bags and smiled enigmatically at other new arrivals, some of whom flanked by parents, one of whom used toilet just inside entrance to hall, making breathing inadvisable before first floor level.  Red-faced girl did best to evacuate said parent, who seemed unaware of powerful stench he had created.  Overheard (painful) one-sided conversation: ‘Thanks for your help, Dad.  See you in the holidays.  Goodbye.  Give my love to Mum.’ Sorry for girl, propelling.  Sorry for parent, propelled.

Note to self: buy air freshener. 

Unpacked. One shelf for eveningwear (sequined boob-tube, leather miniskirt etc.), one for jumpers (baggy), one for jeans (drainpipe/stretch).  Desk drawer for pants/bras/frillies.  Books, on desk (conspicuously).  Paper, files, new pens, academic miscellany – under desk, awaiting re-location. 

Stashed make-up inside sink cupboard, on shelf (handy variety).  Added Wisdom toothbrush and Colgate (ring of confidence) toothpaste.

Grundig cassette player/radio (silver machine) – pride of place in centre of desk (vague tremor of wicked delight).  Cassettes – stacked in purpose-built rack (not provided!).

Switched on radiator.  Opened window (global warming not yet discovered). Looked out onto car park and beloved Renault 4TL.

Happy sigh.

To be continued…

Living in the Past - A Groovy Education

(Bev and Carol are characters from my two (soon to be three) humorous memoirs.  See right side panel for links.)

Three years at university were awesome (always wanted to use that word and now feel strangely let down).

But… they very nearly didn’t happen!

First off, (excuses, excuses) didn’t get the grades I wanted.  Big surprise. Blame (oh, there has to be blame!) psychological torture and lack of faith on part of  middle-class educational establishment of the elite, grammar school variety.

Other possible factors: hedonistic tendencies, narcissistic wearing out of mirrors, lack of ‘application’ (memories of comments in margins – notably: ‘satisfactory’, 'grammar?'  'No!'), plus, penchant for copying out tedious articles from Reader’s Digest for school projects, notably: ‘Write about a Favourite Holiday Destination (with pictures)’ – Afghanistan was a bad choice, even in the seventies, (excellent drawing of camel, although  can now reveal it was traced…from National Geographic). 

Unfortunately, was pigeonholed (nice but dim) and packed off to secretarial school (bilingual course) clutching two (not three) A’ levels, having been ASSURED by elements of  afore-mentioned establishment that university entry was, is and will always remain the domain of the THREE A’-levelled candidate.  (Dubious compound).

This turned out to be a BIG LIE. 

Two years later, after exercising accredited secretarial skills in various contexts, most boringly as  legal dogsbody and appalling speller/typist, it was back to the drawing board.  Duly informed by (normally unreliable) friend that university entry was and always had been viable with only TWO A’ levels. 

BUGGERATION!

Strangulation of former headmistress and/or careers’ advisor impracticable and, arguably, disproportionate.

Sulking ensued.  Much contemplation, much going down pub.

Eventually, arrived at decision – would make belated application to take up  place at Keele University (famous for lakes) to study English and French literature, with subsidiary Astronomy (one science subject required).  Astronomy least frightening/prettiest.

From 1977 – 1980 undergraduate/scholar/bimbo/jam aficionado and expert in procrastination. 

Will attempt to record best bits in coming weeks, months, years.  Bouts of lethargy, extreme alternative activity and/or mood swings may result in casual scheduling of posts.

To be continued…

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