Another Blast from the Past

In two hours I'm out of here and headed south. I you all have a great week next week and don't forget me while I'm gone!

While I'm away, here’s another of my short stories that my Mum saved for all those years and recently returned to me. Sadly this one isn’t dated but, judging by the writing style, I would guess at being around 12 or 13 years old when I penned it. I know I based the character of Matt Gordon on a man I still detest to this day. I think I did a pretty good job of characterizing an arsehole!

Funny how the height of sophistication to my mind back then was a flat in Kensington and a Burt Reynolds style Pontiac Firebird (an automatic, no less!) and listening to Chopin! Also interesting is my abject failure to grasp the actual cost and time involved in car repair!

Again, grammar, punctuation and spelling are included here exactly as they appear in the original. I hope you enjoy!

"A Strange Meeting Indeed"

Matt Gordon sat on the bus. He was on his way to his flat in Kensington. His girlfriend, Janet had his car to impress her new boss. It was an automatic black turbo charged Pontiac Firebird with all gold trimmings. I really was a fantastic car and it had set him back a few thousand pounds.

Matt was 26, tall with blonde, short hair. He was high up in a Building Society, (a job given to him by his Uncle, the director!)

The bus stopped and he walked to his luxury flat. The doorman stood up and said “Afternoon Mr Gordon.”
“Hello. Janet back yet with my car?” Said Matt.
“Eh, well she is back but, I, um…”
“What has she done to it?” he said and ran to the lift.

The lift reached the top floor and Matt ran to his flat, key in hand.
“Hello Matt” Janet said, gingerly.
“Where is it? What’s happened to the bloody car?” Matt screamed.
“Well it’s not that bad, I was at the traffic lights you see. I wasn’t showing off or anything. I was giving the car some revs, the lights changed and I slowly let off the brake but it sprung up and, well the car just flew out of the lights. It must have wheelied or something because I couldn’t steer it. It went straight along the road then hit a lamp post.”
“Oh no! How can anyone be so stupid. A Firebird is a miracle of engineering and you smash it into a lamp post. Give me the keys, now! Where is it?”
“Around the corner at Jims.”

Matt walked out and slammed the door.

“Mr Gordon” the doorman said as he walked past but Matt just walked out. Matt kept walking to Jims garage.

“Ah Mr Gordon, the Pontiac was a bit of a mess.”
“Cut the chit chat, where is it?”
“Well, it were a right ‘ard job. All the left wing ‘ad to be changed. And the lights.”
“Look, where is it!”
“Out here.”
Matt was lead to the workshop. His car was there.

“As you see Mr Gordon, we had to put a whole new…”
“Look, how much, that’s all I want to know.”
“Three hundred quid.”
“Three hundred! Oh she’s going to be sorry she ever sat in this car!” Matt too out his cheque book.

He got in his car and decided he couldn’t face Janet tonight. He would drive around for a while. As he drove around Kensington he saw a face he recognized. It was a lady he had often seen before. That was it! She was Mr Higgs’ secretary. He pulled up next to her as she walked along the pavement.

“Hello, fancy a lift?” he said.
“Oh Mr Gordon, you’re a real darling, this shopping has put six inches on my arms.”
“Call me Matt” he suggested. “Where to/” he said again.
“Gleneagle Mews please” she said.
“Oh? So old Higgs pays well then, eh?” Matt said, surprised.
“No, not that well. This was me and my husbands house, but he died and now I live here alone. You can drop me off here if you want. I don’t want to keep you from wherever you were going.”
“Don’t worry about that, I wasn’t going anywhere in particular.”
“Well perhaps you would care for a cup of tea or coffee?”
“Yes that would be nice, thank you.” Matt said.

They both got out of the car and entered the house.
“This is a lovely house” Matt complimented.
“Thank you. I love it here. Tea or coffee?” she asked.
“Tea please, two sugars. What is your name by the way?”
“Janice” came the reply from the kitchen.

They sat and drank tea, talking and listening to ‘Chopin’.
“Shall I go and get some wine?” Matt suggested a few hours later.
“yes, that sounds wonderful.”
“Matt was soon back with two bottles of wine. They continued to drink and talk about Matts car. He explained what had happened between him and his girlfriend and how he planned to finish with her. After a while the pair of them were a bit merry!

“It’s getting very late, I’d better go” Matt said.
“Don’t be silly, in your state you’ll crash your car. That won’t do, twice in one day. You can stay here on the settee!” she ordered him.
“O.K. O.K. who could resist such an invitation?” Matt leaned over and kissed Janice. He picked her up and began to walk to her bedroom.
“The settee is not in here darling!” whispered Janice.
“Who cares?” Matt said.
He kicked the door shut.

The pair of them were woken by the alarm. Matt got up and washed.
“I’m going to have a shower darling. Could you do some breakfast?” Janice asked.
“Yes love, I’ll do eggs. I’m fantastic at eggs.”
“O.K.then. My husband was good at eggs, too.” Janice shouted from the shower.

Matt began to fry the eggs. As they cooked he saw a very large egg timer. It was silver framed with a grey kind of sand inside the glass body.
“Strange. But nice.” Matt said to himself.
Suddenly a piece of oil spat from the pan and burnt his hand. Matt dropped the egg timer and it fell, breaking the glass. Some of the grey sand fell onto the frying eggs. He managed to scrape it off one but it wouldn’t come off the other so he splashed more oil on it. Still the sand from the broken egg timer showed, a speckled grey-brown. He dished the eggs on to plates then sprinkled pepper on the one with the sand, to disguise his mistake.

“Breakfast!” he called.
“Crikey! You like a lot of pepper on your eggs, don’t you?” Janice commented.
They ate their eggs and Matt crunched bravely through the grit, trying not to make a face and glad he scraped it off hers.

“Umm, that was delicious. As good as my husbands, if not better.” Janice complimented.
“Thank you. What was it you were saying about your husband?” matt asked.

“Oh yes, he was a chef at the Hilton, his speciality was eggs. He loved them fried, poached, scrambled, eggs benedict, you name it, he did it. And his soufflés were perfect!”
“Oh. So, was that his professional egg timer that he used in the kitchen?”

“Oh no!” Said Janice. “He was so fanatical about eggs that when he died I had that made and put his ashes in it.”

THE END