1974

Well, this year will take a few blogs.

1974, what a year! I don't even know where to start because that year changed a lot of people's lives here.

So, March arrives, and four girls start their summer job at the local hotel.

Unfortunately, they were Scottish, but a good bunch, with a great sense of humor. Well, they had to be, being friends with us lot.

And a really interesting thing happened; we became really good friends with them rather than trying to get them into bed.

Don't ask me why; they were good-looking girls, and one of them married a friend of mine, and they are still married today. But for myself and my friend Grib, it was never there, sex-wise.

I have no idea why.

I ended up sharing a house with them, but, well, I don't know. There is me, later sharing a house with four good-looking women, and I never even thought about taking one of them to bed.

They were friends.

If it ain't there, it ain't there, but true friendship, if you are lucky, will last a lifetime.

So, back to the start, the girls started at the local hotel, and soon found the local pub where everyone went - Starks, named after the guy who originally owned it, John Stark.

This pub could and may get ten blogs on its own, but not today.

I remember the first time they went to the beach for a swim; I have never seen such white people; they were blue-white.

Don't they have sunshine in Scotland?

Three months later, they were more tanned than us.

We all had a lot of fun together that year, late-night bonfires on the beach when the pubs kicked out. Loads of us sat around a bonfire; a few guys who played in local bands used to bring their guitars and play.

The next day, we always cleared all the empty cans, etc., up. After all, we all lived there; we didn't want the beach to look like a rubbish tip.

Everyone was having a good time, except the local copper, who I will not name.

Now, most of the local coppers were okay; they left us alone. We behaved ourselves and, to an extent, policed ourselves.

We didn't want any hassle, so word went around: behave after the pub; don't do anything silly like petty vandalism or you would get a 'slap'.

It worked well until a new Sergeant was posted to the local coppers. He was an asshole.

Lots of pubs back then had lock-ins. That was locking the doors after closing time so the locals could have a late drink.

So what?

He decided that he would stamp down on this, and he did so with the assistance of the aforementioned copper who was a pain and sucked up to the new Sergeant determined to put their mark on the local riff-raff, that being us.

Neither of them approved of drinking, so we were never going to get on.

The local coppers before that were good at local policing. If they pulled you over after a few, most times they would give you a warning but let you know that you owed them a favor if ever needed.

This night there was a big bonfire on the beach. As always, it was at the end of the beach, which is shingle and under the cliff, so no one could hear any noise.

We are all having a good time at around 2 am, OK a few joints, etc.

Then along the beach, two torch lights, bright lights.

"Oh, it is the local Sergeant and his sidekick."

He stands there full of piss and importance and tells us to leave the beach straight away.

We ask why?

"Because the fishermen from the local boat park have reported that there has been damage to their boats."

Six of us stood up and pointed out that we actually owned boats, and no damage had been done.

Then he played his trump card. Well, he thought he did but didn't know what he was on about.

"Any fires after midnight on the beach must be reported to the local coastguard, so put that fire out now and leave the beach."

Unfortunately, Herman was amongst us, who walked over to this idiot.

"I am the senior officer of the coast guard cliff rescue, and as such, the coastguard is fully aware of these nighttime fires. Furthermore, on what grounds are you asking us to leave the beach?"

Herman was a bit older than us and knew the laws of the coast.

He made this Sergeant look a total prat.

Everyone started laughing and taking the piss.

The guy did not know what to do.

After lots of shouts of 'Clear off back to England,' etc., he left the beach to a chorus of abuse.

He had lost face, and soon did go back to England.

It was just after that night I met Elizabeth.

She was a Swedish girl who had come over for the month with the other Swedish students.

She was 17, tiny, stunning and had the biggest boobs I have ever seen on a small girl.

She could only have seen her feet using a mirror.

But for some reason, she fancied me, so we hit it off.

Riding my motorbike with her on the back was an experience.

I had to lean over the handlebars to let her sit on the pillion seat!

Not only for her looks, but she was also a nice girl.

Except... I was working on a big building site, and back in the day, wolf whistles, sexist comments were normal.

Elizabeth knew this and used to bring me my "Namet" (Namet is the IOW Wight for a meal, such as a lunch break, sandwiches, etc. It comes from the old days when it was the meal without meat, no meat, which changed to Namet). See, reading my blogs, you learn something.

She deliberately wore just a bikini or cut-off shorts, just to wind the guys up, and boy did she.

The guys on the site were amazed at her boobs, and I got a lot of questions about them, so we had a sweepstake about how big they were.

Elizabeth thought it was hilarious and let me measure them; the sweepstake was won by the building inspector. From memory, I think they were 48 and three-quarters. But I may be wrong after all these years.

It was a summer romance; we both knew it, so we made the most of it.

At that time, there was an air show at Bembridge on the other side of the island.

Bembridge is a very small airport, mostly for private planes, but back then, they made the effort and put on a day.

Look at the planes, side shows, food stalls, etc.

This year somehow they had booked the Red Arrows.

And if you don't know who the Red Arrows are, tough.

It was a perfect day, hot and sunny, and despite my new riding style, Elizabeth and I had got there on my bike.

We wandered around getting hot dogs, etc., then sat down on the grass to watch the Red Arrows.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, now the highlight of today, The Red Arrows."

"I have been told they are on the way, and if you look to the North, towards England, you will see them coming."

So we all did.

Unbeknownst to us, the Red Arrows were coming from the South, over the sea.

The airport is under the Downs with the cliff on the sea-facing side.

The Downs and cliffs masked any sound from the incoming jets until they came over the downs at zero feet, hit their engines, and blasted into a fan display with red, white, and blue smoke trailing.

It was amazing, but the sound was unforgettable and needed about one thousand people needing new underwear.

An unforgettable day.

Finally, our summer romance ended; we never kept in touch. Perhaps we should have done.

But we have the memories.

A lovely girl.

Cars... Well, that will have to be in the next one.

Spread the word. If you like my tales, I know not how to.