David, Sylvia and I spent a fair bit of time together in the late 70s and early 80s. They were both very kind to me during a rather depressing part of my life and helped me through a tough time. A couple of incidents occurred which led to high amusement and low farce. I remember David experimenting with making home brew beer.This involved waiting patiently for the brew to mature which did not sit well with your man who was salivating at the prospect of tasting the mixture at the earliest opportunity. He tried a 1st tasting pretty well before the brew had had time to ferment! Needless to say, it tasted horrible and he remedied the situation by doubling the quantity of sugar into the mix, not that it needed it.This time he exhibited more patience and waited for the foul brew to ferment, which it duly did. Come the fateful night, and I was invited to join your man and Sylvia to sample the tipple once we had prepared for the occasion by downing a few scoops in the local pub. Because she was due to work the following morning, Sylvia left your man and myself in the front room and went to her bed leaving us to draw off a pint each of the home brew. At this point I have to confess that I have difficulty recalling anything of the next half hour. So powerful was the brew that my legs refused to work. This resulted in a bemused Sylvia returning downstairs to find myself and your man crawling round the floor, giggling and gurgling, having fallen off the furniture and bouncing off the walls, incapable of standing up. A fine example of the legendary hospitality to be had at your man and Sylvia`s house. Needless to say, lots of promises of `never again` the following morning--well, until the next time!
At about the same time in the early Eighties, your man had acquired an air rifle which he was anxious to try out. So off we went in his car to Stanmer Park to practice our shooting skills at various tins and empty coca-cola cans, An hour later, rifle in Tesco`s plastic carrier bag on back seat of car, we exited the park only to be waved down by a copper doing a routine roadside vehicle check and told to wait in the queue of stationary motors! It then dawned on us that we would have some explaining to do about how your man with a very pronounced Ulster accent, driving a car with a very Northern Ireland registration plate [UOI 1927 or something similar], came to be carrying a rifle on his back seat! In trepidation we inched towards the front of the queue, only to be waved through with a friendly smile and salute! Talk about luck of the Irish! Cue sighs of relief, roars of laughter, and realisation that your man, at that time, was bloody indestructible! Sleep well, my friend, sleep well.
Tim and Sheila XX
TIMOTHY
1st April 2020