Self-indulgent Saturday & Sunday #5

A short span again this week, it teeters around 1970. Previous episodes are at #1, #2, #3 and #4). In #4, I left myself in limbo, wandering around Lonely Corner, separated, unlikely to achieve divorce in the foreseeable future. I resolved to be pro-active.

One day, while picking up my newspaper and magazine from the newsagent's, I noticed a publication in the racks - The London Weekly Advertiser; I doubt it exists now, at least not in the form it was back in 1970. The publication was purely a forum for advertising items for sale, or services available around Britain - rather like a print version of E-bay or Craigslist. One section of the paper was dedicated to "Personal" adverts: people wanting to meet other people. Personal ads of this nature still exist, if not in print, then certainly on-line.

Should I? I bought the publication for several weeks before deciding yes, I should!

I wasn't about to respond to any adverts I'd found, but settled on drafting an ad of my own. I don't recall the exact wording but it included my age, gender, marital status, rough location, type of job I had, and type of friend I'd like to meet...oh, and my Sun sign. Wondering when astrology would rear its mystical head here were ya? I was at simple Sun sign level only at this point, so there'd be no astro-acrobatics!

I suspected that this escapade was all rather daring as I typed out my ad, but it was a while since I'd had an adventure. I sent it in, snail mail of course. It took a while to be published, even longer for replies to be posted back to me by the newspaper, who acted in place of a P.O. Box. I think I received around 8 or 9 replies in all. A few were discarded at once as being mildly objectionable or quite sweet but too obviously not my type. Eventually I was left with 3 letters which I reckoned merited a longer reply than the brief "thanks, but no thanks" type response.

By this time my "gung-ho" was rapidly gung-ing off. I wrote 3 nice letters back to the short-list, decided that should be that, and began thinking about a Plan B.

 Bill

I'd underestimated the persistence of one of the responders. He wrote back in reply to mine - I replied, again, that I'd changed my mind about the whole idea of meeting someone in this way. He wrote back - yet again. His handwriting was very attractive, nice writing style, sounded warm and sincere. He excused himself for being "a Taurus", asked me not to discard him on that reason alone. We corresponded for several weeks. He was living in the south of England, though by birth was Northern Irish, was quite a lot older than me, and asked me not to discard him solely on that account either. I decided he seemed interesting enough to be checked out on a quick day trip to London, using the fastest trains available. Setting out early I could just about make it there and back in a day, with a tiny bit of time to spare in the city.

He was waiting for me at King's Cross station. I still remember what he was wearing: dark green corduroy jacket, khaki slacks. Back then I always loved corduroy jackets for men. His jacket had a lot to answer for! There wasn't much time to see the sights, and I wasn't much interested in them anyway at that point. We spent some time in Piccadilly Square, ate a sandwich, chatted...about what? I don't recall. He had a wonderful, softly cultured, Northern Irish accent. I liked him. He asked that we, at least, remain friends. We did. And what's more, eventually spent the next 32 years together, 'til death us did part - though nobody ever declared those words over us in a marriage ceremony.

To be continued.