Quite a few years ago, before Her Ultimate Fragrancy the Senora Chiara Robertine O'Blene deigned to be my loving wife, she had a green Austin Mini.
It was a great little car, the doors opened with one of those cords, and I think there were three switches and a speedometer on the dashboard and little else. You started it with a tiny key, and from then on everything seemed to work.
Miss O'Blene (as she was then) would sometimes pick me up from Etchingham station, from where we'd dash to my parents' house, grab a sandwich, then start a round of all the pubs - because that's what you did on a Friday, Saturday and a Sunday.
Now, the legs bit first. This was in the early seventies, when short dresses and skirts were all the rage. Miss O'Blene has fabulous legs, so was able to show these off at most opportunities. Changing gear meant an inch or more to see from the corner of my eye, and I was delighted of course!
But one thing happened with the Austin Minis back then. Whenever you drove through a puddle, all the electrics packed up! The lights went out, the engine stopped and there was nothing to show you up on the road! Her Mini often did this in Whitbread Lane, near here, and it was a frightening experience. Although I was never with her at the time, it might have been even more exciting with all the lights off, and everything damp...
Anyway, it was a common fault with these cars, and was sorted out in later years, such that we bought three more Minis. The first one was a Clubman which went like a rocket. I made a profit on that after a year or so. The second one I bought with £350.00 from an Access cashpoint, and the first thing I did when I got it home was put my hand straight through the wing and right onto the front tyre, so that meant a bit of fibreglass and a spray can. The old door was replaced with a scrapyard one for a fiver, and looked like new!
We p/exed that one when I noticed some shiny metal underneath, and it definitely shouldn't have been there. It smelt too, but was a great workhorse.
So all in all, what with legs that made being a passenger so much more fun, especially in the hot summer evenings, and lights going off at the wrong moment, life couldn't have been more varied back then...
10 comments:
Ah! Legs glorious legs... But in all my years I never ever wanted a Mini. The only dealings I had with one was when a mate told me his was playing up but he couldn't find out what was wrong with it. I dropped by later that day and asked him to start it. From the noise it was making it was obvious that either a plug was dead, or a plug lead had come adrift or the distributor needed attention. All the plugs were properly in order but when I removed the distributor cap I saw a huge crack right across it - which was clearly the cause of the misfiring. A quick drive to a spare parts shop for a replacement cap and we had it fixed in no time.
Back in the 70s I had a fab (dribble dribble!) girl friend just as you describe. She was 5'11 tall, wore skirts stretching half way up her thighs and had smashing legs that went all the way to the ground!! She drove a convertible bright blue Herald. Some lovely memories from those years cruising together through the countryside with the hood down and lovely knees on display!
As convertibles are very prone to mishief, I fixed a well hidden under-dash engine cut out on it to stop any light fingered passers by from trying to steal it. One day she took it for a service, activated the cut out on the garage forecourt and went off to her office - totally forgetting to tell the mechanics about it and where it was located! Just before lunchtime she received a call from the garage to tell her that her (not very old) battery was flat and they could not start the car to do the service. Seems they had been trying to start it for over an hour - naturally without success - and in the process had flattened the battery. They were slightly miffed when she mentioned it! Cost her a new battery though, so she never made that mistake again.
Talking of first day damage.... One Saturday morning a long time ago, I collected my brand new sparkling Stiletto from the dealer, drove it home and put it in my garage. Later that day I decided to take it for a ride to get used to it. I opened the garage doors, got in the car, opened my window, and began to back it out. I was looking over my left shoulder as I did so - and thus missed the fact that I had not secured the driver's door which had swung open as the car moved. The open window frame caught on the protruding hasp of the garage door right at the top corner of the frame and was gently lifting that corner up a couple of inches! So I could not push the frame back into place and nor could I shut the car door.
I had to ask a mate to accompany me (him sitting in the back holding the door closed) to a tin bashing outfit to get the frame fixed. Oh woe was I !!!
Oh rvi - that's brought back some memories for me. My first car was a Robin Reliant that my ex-husband bought. When driving down the motorway I was absolutely fearless! One rainy winter's night I was coming home from work and went through a big puddle and it just stopped. After waiting a bit, I got out (yes - I was wearing a mini-skirt) and tried to look helpless with the hope a knight in shining armour would come to my rescue - the stuff of dreams! What actually happened was the passing cars also went through the puddle and I got totally soaked through! I also had a Sunbeam Stiletto which in winter was like driving an ice cube. Everything that could open froze up including the windows and doors. I managed to break into the driver's side but had to put some string around the door handle and tie it to my waist otherwise I would have been road-kill. Best car I had was a Fiat 124 special. It had a brilliant heater, lovely adjustable seats and good to drive. Unfortunately the body-work left a lot to be desired, as in there was hardly anything that hadn't got rust. As for my legs, I couldn't possibly comment!!
Hi Goosey,
Many years ago I knew a Dutch couple with whom my long-legged GF and I used to play Bridge once a week. They had a Fiat 124 which they thought was actually a mini-Maserati! They were a nice couple, but hubby would always get a bit irritated with wifey who used to pay with little or no subtelty and always got finessing wrong. His favourite expression was "Karen! Play de vife, play de vife not de ice". I am of course assuming that we all here know how to play that frustrating game! (We can't all be Omar Sharifs, can we?!). My favourite Bridge tale concerns my partner (as mentioned above with the Herald). We decided to go for a week's holiday to Gibraltar and Tangiers. All was well until the day we were due to sail across to Morroco as a force 10 gale had sprung up and the ferry company decided it was unsafe for passengers until the weather improved (a couple of days later). That left us with a hole in our itinerary, but on our meanderings in town we had noticed a "Bridge tonight at 8.30 in the Garrison building. All welcome". So we decided to amble along and see if we could get a game. The place was full of colonels and their wives and other local bigshots, but they welcomed us and allowed us to join. Two hours later at the end of a several games, shifting round the room after each match, we found that we had stuffed everyone and won the evening prize! The female military faces were a sight to behold. Damned interlopers! We were giggling all the way back to our hotel and quickly escaped the following morning!
My Stiletto came with all the bells and whistles - including the black vinyl roof cover, dark blue metallic paint, a heater, a radio and, would you believe seat belts and wing mirrors! But in fairness it was built exactly to my personal specifications from the company showroom in Piccadilly for the then princely sum of £486 (roughly equivalent then to about 15 months' salary).
Further to the above Bridge session...
There was nothing special about it (apart from the fact that we won!) but it was memorable thanks to just one of the matches.
We had finished the previous one and moved on to our next table where we sat down and waited for our next oppponents to arrive. After a minute or two, a couple of female battle-cruisers made their way towards us and docked at our table. A peremptory "Good evening" and that was the end of the conversation. These two were deadly serious! This was war!!
The MC called "Play" and we picked up our cards. I had nothing much - 6 low to middling Clubs, 6 low to middling Hearts, no Diamonds, but a solitary 2 of Spades. The bidding began with the lady on my right. I passed. The one on my left responded and my partner also passed. We left these two to gradually raise the stakes with their bids and they eventually checked out at 5 Spades. They needed 11 of the 13 tricks to win. The lady on my right played her first card, a lowish Diamond. I waited while the dummy hand was set out and then looked at it before playing my card.
At this point, I casually asked my partner, "Are we playing 5 Clubs or 5 Spades?". I had been thinking about something else while our opponents battled out their final call. But before my partner had a chance to reply, the cruiser to my left butted in.
"Who are you? Don't you know how to play this game? We are playing 5 Spades and it is your turn to lay a Diamond on the card on the table". I looked at her and just smiled sweetly - then casually dropped my little Spade - thus squishing the single Diamond in the dummy hand - which happened to be the Ace!! My partner and I exchanged a brief glance and a slight raising up eyebrows was more than enough to know we were both on the same wave length....
"You are supposed to follow suit", said the Emily look-alike to my left.
"Yes, I know", I replied. "Your turn".
We managed to defend the bid and they ended up one trick short with only 10 tricks. Had it not been for that outrageous fit of bloated pomposity, I might have completely forgotten about it all. But certain events do tend to stick in the mind and return to the surface now and then to make you smile at the memory. :-) :-)
Mrs O'Blene and I had a similar experience, but with cribbage, during a wet day on holiday.
We've played the game together for years and know exactly what the other will do in a singles game, but two others decided we should do a four.
The details are unimportant, but they were extremely put out when we thrashed them at every turn, and they'd spent ages telling us how expert they were beforehand...
Happy memories!
Mrs H, or Miss B as she was then, bought a green Mini as her first car with much the same experience - drove through a puddle and the electrics packed up. It was a pig to start too but fortunately she lived on a steep hill with a garage at the bottom. So it was bump start down the hill or roll it into the garage. Happy days.
I am one of those people who are unable to play card games, cribbage or dominoes because I cannot for the life of me work out what hand the others have; however this inability does not detract from the jollity of having our neighbours Brian and Chris round for a nice meal and a game of doms with penny coins in the kitty, because the various libations on tap seem to oil my little grey cells to the point of a slight inclination to put down whatever tile I fancy much to the hilarity or despair of the others. Having said that, the sound of mixing our ebony and ivory doms that we got quite cheaply at a local antique place does give some sort of pleasure even if I've just lost my last 1p coin! Sorry rvi - I have no clue about playing bridge. Is that the game with rubbers?
Don't worry Goosey, it is just a rather posh version of "Trumps" as we used to call it when I was young... and yes, you definitely need rubbers, lots of them, to erase the mistakes one makes when filling in the scores on the scorecard (you also need a PhD in Maths to undestand the scoring - which I why I always delegate that aspect to one of the others!)
Ah Maths! The only exam I ever failed. There's another game that often comes up in James Bond films - do you know what it is? I remember a card game my mum used to play with me called Rookery Nook - ever heard of that? I'll have to look it up as I can't remember how it's played. In the meantime we'll get our neighbours round again for more food, drinkies and doms - need a good laugh with this wet weather - ha!
I seem to recall Senor Bond - Jaaime Bond - was adept at Baccarat? [Back a rat?]
No idea how it is played as I do not live in Monte Carlo nor frequent casinos on a regular basis (Maybe three times in my whole life!) but I seem to recall the dealer has a wooden whatnot which dispenses the cards and dramatic music accompanies each round. All too technical for my little pea brain! I think I have already related here the tale of the 2-3 days in Las Vegas that cost me all of two dollars....
Nope never heard of Rookery Nook. Maybe that is a pastime enjoyed somewhere north of Watford? :-))
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