The Summer of '93

Goodnight Oxford

When I worked at BT I worked with Jeremy. Jeremy was one of the trainers and we got on famously. That was in 1990 before I started my current job. I had been a temp. I bumped into Jeremy in town and we had exchanged numbers. At the time I saw him Jeremy told me that he had since left BT, and had moved to a job at Killingbeck. I got a phone call after dinner.

"Hi Meg, it's been a while, how are you?"

"I'm good thanks, how are you?"

"Yes I'm busy with work but it's all good thanks. How's the job going?"

"Oh you know how training is!" I replied. "I see more of my suitcase than I do my own bed!"

"I wanted to talk to you about a job opportunity that might be of interest to do. How about we go for a drink at Whitelocks?"

"Sure, that would be nice. It will be good to see you."

"Yes, you too!"

We made some arrangements to meet. Jeremy did telecomms training. It was very different to what I taught, and yet he seemed keen to see me. I was curious as to why.

I hadn't been in Whitelocks for a while. It was in what had been quite a colourful part of town. There were some really shady characters that hung around outside in the pub's yard that could never be described as a beer garden. That said it had a real old worldly charm about it and I liked the food and the old stained glass that it had.

I hugged Jeremy and I bought him a half. We sat down and caught up.

"Do you ever hear from Shelley?" He asked me.

I have kept in touch with her yes, but I don't hear from her regularly.

Shelley and I had worked on reception and if I could have chosen a sister rather than a brother it would have been Shelley. We had grown apart, partly because I was lazy and partly because I was never home.

Jeremy had gone freelance and was sounding me out as to whether I would like to work with him. He was getting contracts and there was too much work for him. The thing that tickled me was that he took his caravan with him so he didn't check into hotels. From what he told me, it was sporadic but lucrative.

"You could get a caravan like me!" He told me.

"I would also have to buy a car to pull it!"

"Well that's tax deductible." He advised. It sounded like a lot of work and it wasn't where my head was at presently. I was up front and honest with him and told him without going into detail, that I wasn't sure it was for me.

"Well if you change your mind..."

By the end of November I was looking at mobile phones. They were a snip at £399. It was going to turn out to be a very busy week ahead. Tuesday I was going to Cumbria, Thursday and Friday I was booked to go to Wales. The following week I was in Wales all week again. Friday I was down to Oxford and then back home. This would be my final visit and I had grown very fond of Oxford and the people who worked there. They had grown fond of me too. I had socialised with them and I had supported them through their learning. They all gathered at the end of the training session. There was genuine fondness in their sentiments as they talked about me being an honoury member of their team. I just loved being there. I was going to miss it so much, as well as  everyone who worked there.

"We would like to give you a little something, as a token of our appreciation!" they said.

Pandora had wrapped it in William Morris paper. They knew me so well. They really put a lot of thought into it. I had worked with them on and off for nearly two years. Margaret had taken me to spend the evening with her and her Husband, where I developed my liking for Port and ate white stilton in the beer garden at the Gardener's Arms and my favourite, The Trout Inn. I had been for meals and the cinema. I had immersed myself at the Ashmolean. I had laughed at the women who drooled over and swooned whilst watching the Firemen exercise from our Council building window in the summer. I had frequented the Playhouse and enjoyed those shows that had been heading to London next. I had visited the Headington Shark with Abid. I would miss the lovely people who ran and looked after me at the Guesthouse, just by the A40 roundabout at the top of Oxford. I would miss the flowers that the owner nurtured with his contrived irrigation system and driving into the carpark, knowing I would be in this beloved City again.

It was a William Morris day book and they had bought old postcards of Oxford and stuck them in there, for me to remember them. There was also a beautiful card signed by them all. I was overwhelmed with their kindness and it brought it home; that I was conscious that I would never see them again.

I asked Ali by letter if he wanted to accompany me when he was back on 11 December, whilst I was delivering training in Shropshire. I knew he would go for it as it would be a break in the norm for him. 

I was looking for somewhere exotic to go on holiday with Ali and I explored Sri Lanka at £629, the Gambia at £199 and so on. Ali had already been to three countries and if you included his home four. 

The letters flew between us thick and fast. It took three days for a letter to arrive door to door from him and a week for mine to get back to him. I sat in bed sipping wine. It had been a stressful day. I flicked through travel magazines looking for inspiration. But it was time to go and pack for the next trip away, to Wales again.

I treated myself to an INXS album whilst I worked away and watched 'Total Recall' in the hotel. I took one of Ali's letter with me for company. I drove back home with Sting and INXS. It was pelting down with rain and my foot kept coming off the accelerater, because that car had a mind of its own, and wanted to fly. I reckon it could have done 130 quite comfortably in Germany. It was so tempting but sense prevailed. I wished I was in Germany to stretch it like a greyhound, getting exercised.

I was absolutely exhausted with my week, so much so that my Saturday morning lie in turned into Saturday afternoon. Mum had got some flowers from Palmer. I got a phone call telling me that Ali's watch was ready. I felt unwell when I tried to stand. Mum insisted that I helped move the wardrobe, there and then and I could hardly move. I'd caught a bug. Mum was spoiling for a row. I hoped so much that I would get the Edinburgh job. She didn't appreciate how the travelling really took it out of me; I was due in Oxford this week and I was due to go to Edinburgh on Monday. I was doing too much.

Ali rang. "I had three letters yesterday from a sad woman!"

"That is a lot in go!" I exclaimed. I checked your bank balance and it's £69."

"That's alright, how much is available?"

"£250."

"I live in the never never" he said " there's £700 on its way in December. If you need money it's there, use my card." he said.

It was not something I would do but I appreciated his kindness.

"I didn't get that job."

"Plenty more fish in the sea." he said. "Shall we go away for the week?"

"We can do that." I said. It would be a welcome escape.

"It's just that I should go and see my Family, seeing as it's Christmas. So what do you want for Christmas?"

"I don't know. I've seriously not given it any thought. I've been too busy travelling up and down through Scotland, England and Wales" I replied.

"There's a reason why."

"What's that then?" I asked.

"What do you want?"

"I genuinely don't know." I replied.

"I hate those answers." he retorted, "There must be something. I will buy you something and you'll like it!"

"Will I?" I smiled.

"I could buy you something that I wanted, and I could just take it off you."

"So what have you been doing this week?"

"I have been building bridges, in the freezing cold, knee deep in mud. I did give up smoking for seven days. But it's been living in sub zero temperatures."

"So travel, let's have a look at the travel agents."

"I envy you, you've been to so many more places."

"Once you've seen one coconut you've seen them all. You might be a pure nightmare to travel with."

"You've travelled with me!"

"No not really! Well we'll arrange it for a week, okay?"

"Sure. By the way I got your postcard from Poland."