March 13th, 1989
No call from British Airways so I’m still on twelve-hour standby.
Lucy rang early this morning to let me know she was coming home and we arranged to meet at the Beefeater in the city centre. The food is yummy there and as usual I overindulged, so, tomorrow, I’m going to try and not eat and see if I can make it through the day on liquids alone. We’ll see how long that lasts.
After we ate, Lucy and I walked over to The Point and nabbed the last two tickets for “Scandal,” with John Hurt (his portrayal of Stephen Ward was brilliant.) We had a quick drink in the bar afterwards and talked about getting a taxi, but we were both still feeling stuffed and Lucy said she’d rather walk.
“It’s so nice to get away from London, even for one night.”
“I thought you liked living in London?” I asked, while we waited for a break in the traffic.
“I do, but it gets a big hectic sometimes and it’s nice to come home and catch up with everyone.”
“Well I, for one, am glad you’re here. I loved the film, what a story. And true.”
We made a mad dash across the road. “It’s outrageous that two young women caused such an uproar in the government,” Lucy shouted.
“And they seemed quite innocent.”
“I don’t know about that,” Lucy said, “ I think Mandy Rice-Davis was a bit more savvy than Christine Keeler.”
“Which girl do you think you relate to more?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s a good question. You go first.”
“I can relate to both of them.”
“I’d say you’re more like Christine Keeler.”
“That’s funny, I was about to say the same to you.”
“Nah, I don’t think I relate to either of them.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I don’t know. They were both quite girly, especially Mandy. I think Bridget Fonda played her brilliantly. She’s really pretty isn’t she? How old do you think she is?”
“I’d say a few years older than us, about mid twenties.”
“Her English accent was great,” Lucy said.
“She’s not English?”
“No, she’s American. She’s Jane Fonda’s niece.”
“Oh, the workout queen. I bet there’s nothing good to eat at her house.”
Lucy laughed. “Only you would think about that but you’re probably right.”
“Jane Fonda looks amazing though, especially for a woman her age.”
“How old is she?”
“Early fifties I think.”
“You’d never know it. I guess there’s something to be said for all the aerobics she does.”
“Ugh,” I grunted.
“What?” Lucy asked.
“Just talking about Jane Fonda makes me feel fat.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous, you are not fat.”
As we neared Lucy’s house, I asked, “Are you going home or coming to mine?”
“Is it ok if I come to yours?”
“Of course, I was hoping you would. We still have plenty to catch up on. I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“We’ll kick my dad out of the living room and I’ll dig out the buns of steel video.”
“With Auntie Jane.”
“No, it’s not her, it’s Greg Smithey and he’s very funny. My mum loves him, she gets really into doing the exercises and she sounds more American by the second. Wait ‘til you hear her impersonating him.” In my best American accent, waving my arms around, I shouted, “Four, three, two, one. Press it out and push to the side. I’m proud of you. Work it. Good job.”
Lucy was laughing so hard that she stopped walking and clutched her hand to her stomach.
Trying my best not to laugh, I continued, “You know something’s happening down there, oh, it feels good.”
“No way,” Lucy chuckled.
“Trust me, you’ll die laughing.”
“I already am,” she said.
“It’ll be an experience, I promise you.”
“Well in that case I need to stop at my mum’s first.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I need my leg warmers.”