The Squashed Man Who Married a Dragon Read Free

pushed for all she was worth – getting muddied as well. Back in the car she giggled – ‘What now, Superman’. One last round, an all or nothing attempt, hands trying an any and everywhere attack – thwarted again and back to reality. A little rain was now falling and I had to go and find a farmer to help us out.
    I just couldn’t believe my luck, from the depth of despair – I had found the farmer, still up, not cross or angry as he would have every right to be – he gets out his tractor. In two minutes he had hooked up to the Mini and dragged us out of the gate. I go over to thank him and give or owe him whatever he wanted for the rescue. ‘No, lad’ he said! ‘I were young once’ with a sort of knowing way. Turning back to the car I noticed the spotlight at the back of his cab – was illuminating the Mini. Inside this lovely girl was rearranging her muddied clothes, fixing her hair and make-up a sort of impromptu country cabaret.
    Three or so years later when I was happily bound from head to toe to the girl of my dreams, the only other survivor of those carefree feckless days was my thirty bob jacket. When we set up home, I had a couple of suits, some shirts, socks, the usual clobber. The minimum really, taking up little space in my side of the wardrobe, plus the jacket.
    This jacket thoughtfully pushed to the back – neglected in the darkened corner, was almost forgotten. One day I needed to see it, touch it again, link up with my old friend – I searched in vain; three times I went back to the wardrobe – thinking I hadn’t looked properly.
    It wasn’t there, nor under the bed, we had no garage or loft to hide it – this was serious – where could it be? I asked the ‘all knowing one’. ‘Have you seen my thirty bob jacket? I can’t find it anywhere’. ‘Oh, I threw it out…ages ago, you didn’t wear it’. Threw it out…my sacred jacket…. a bosom friend….. never asked me…….didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. In one savage, cruel, unthinking action, she had cut the umbilical cord to my youth – the last link to those heady moonlight adventures.

WORDS OF WISDOM
    My father was great at dishing out good advice, two of his gems were ‘get stuck in now, work hard, be a Millionaire and retire at fifty’. Very helpful, but no actual step by step instructions how to achieve this goal. The other pearl was ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em but don’t marry before you’re thirty’. This is the sort of useful tip you only appreciate……lying on your back under the kitchen sink, trying to fix a leak. While some one small is bouncing a tennis ball on your unguarded delicate parts…demanding ‘you promised me a night night story!’
    OK, I failed to take my Dad’s advice because somebody played cupid…when I wasn’t ready………
    I blame Barbara, for this, one hundred per cent, without doubt it was her fault . One day in Wigan town centre I was walking up the Little Arcade, passing a card shop, this was the time when the first card shops were really good businesses – and Barbara, a quick thinking and very good business woman saw these opportunities. In some ways – she was what the Americans called a ‘tough cookie’. She had to be, as later on in life she owned a nightclub and dealt with the hard late night side of life, giving as good as she got and taking no nonsense from anyone.
    Barbara was a little older than me, but much wiser and clued up, after a short while she said ‘Do you know Vicki Fearn?’ ‘No’ I said ‘should I?’ Well she continued you are a bit like brother and sister, both good-looking much like each other. Now I can stand any amount of flattery, true or false, but this was heaven sent. After a further brief description of this beauty I was desperate to know