March 3rd, 1989
Presently at Pamsy’s, feeling more than ready for bed, but if I don’t write this now I’ll forget everything by tomorrow. Pamsy gave me a little fluffy pug for my birthday and she just laughed when I told her I’m taking it to bed with me.
Had to be at Cranebank for a ten am start today. The class was for Bar Plus, British Airways’ new onboard system, used for selling duty free. The machine itself is easy to use and is a more efficient way of keeping track of purchases. Only a few people from my training course were in class as most of them are still either on their first trip, or on time off.
By late afternoon, class was done and I caught the tube from Hatton Cross to Victoria (had to change at Gloucester Road) then the train from Victoria to Cooden Beach. I had the good sense to change out of uniform before getting on the train, otherwise the two plus hours of my marathon writing session would’ve been constantly interrupted by tourists, asking, “Am I on the right train?”
Pamsy was waiting on the tiny platform and as soon as she spotted me, she waved furiously. The second I stepped off the train, we started talking nineteen to the dozen, which is fairly typical of us.
“Where would you like to go?” she asked.
“Only one place to be on a Friday night.”
In unison, we said, “the pub!”
Pamsy laughed. “The Castle?”
A few minutes later, as we were pulling into the only available space, Pamsy said, “Looks like Dave the wave is here.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“I’m pretty sure that’s his car,” she said, pointing to a slightly beat up looking classic sports car.
“Of course that must be his. Pretentious bloody pratt.”
She chuckled, “Do you still want to go in?”
“Yeah, be nice to see him actually.”
“You’re the last person he’ll be expecting to see.”
“Oh goodie. Eh, did you recognize anyone else’s car?” I asked, getting out of the car.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because your head just spun around and I got the impression you might have spotted, say, another familiar car.”
She laughed. “I can’t get anything past you.”
“Whose car is it?” I asked as we walked towards the pub.
“Oooh, I’ll finally get to meet him. This could be interesting. Lucky for me you don’t drink, otherwise I’d have to ask you not to get drunk and leave me here alone with Dave.”
“You better not get drunk and snog Dave!”
“Not even for old time’s sake?” I asked in a playful tone.
Her expression was incredulous but she couldn’t maintain it and started laughing.
“No fear of that happening,” I said. “Besides, I shan’t be drinking tonight. I’m on antibiotics.”
“A chest infection.”
“Maybe Dave will rub it better for you,” she said, smirking as she held the door open for me.
“You really are tres mechant.”
“But not as naughty as you,” she said.
We were still cracking up when we walked into the crowded pub.