Yesterday I mentioned my mother’s postwar ingenuity. Not just making all our clothes, but manufacturing her own toilet paper. Of necessity, her squares cut from knitting patterns were not very comfortable, but they were at least strong, and did the job once you had done yours.
We are now inundated with numerous brands of this household necessity, all claiming to be soft and strong. Having been engaged in extensive research in recent months we were relieved to discover the only one that lives up to its claim. It is four ply. Not like other producers’ slender slivers of loosely connected paper each of which disintegrate the moment the slightest finger pressure is applied. Four strong sheets guaranteed to stand firm. Forget the rest. Floralys super soft is the business. And where can you buy it? Where else but Lidl? (I’ll take my commission now, Mr. Lidl).
Before our guests arrived for Sunday lunch, we paid a visit to Totton’s finest emporium, in order to acquire a few supplies. The convenience of shopping on the Sabbath was not available in that bygone era when Mum was making do. I have mentioned before how much you could buy with a penny during my childhood. But we couldn’t go out and spend one on this day.
Helen and Shelly, Bill and Ron, joined us for lunch which was taken at a leisurely pace. 
Jackie presented a most impressive roast beef meal followed by spicy pumpkin pie or lemon cheesecake, or both. Those who like red wine enjoyed Bill’s Carta Roja gran reserva 2005; the white wine drinkers preferred Palastri pino grigio 2012. With our coffee we were treated to Turkish delight Helen and Bill had brought back with them from their recent holiday.
Ron brought a memory stick containing his video of John and Stephanie’s wedding. After a few teething troubles I got it to work on the iMac and we all relived the day.
With this particular group there is always an exchange of stories. At one point we got onto the subject of bizarre motoring accidents. This took me, and therefore the others, back to late 1972. One weekend at that time I returned from visiting Matthew and Becky to where I was living in Gillespie Road, near Arsenal’s old football ground, to find my Ford Corsair concertinaed. Its front and back had each been pushed in a bit. Apparently there had been an attempted murder in which another car had been used to run down a pedestrian. Things got rather out of control and the murder weapon plunged into the car parked behind mine which was shoved into the one in front.
My listeners were probably hoping that that was the bizarre accident and the story would finish there. No such luck. There was more. David Hignett, one of the social workers in my Southwark Area Team, with Pat Benge at his side, offered to tow me in his very solid Volvo, to Raynes Park which housed my garage in those days. We set off after work, and drove at a rate of knots through London from north to south. The chosen route took us into Chelsea’s King’s Road. This was then the place to be noticed. I certainly was.
David drove at a good thirty miles an hour, and didn’t seem to slow down for bends. As we turned left into King’s Road, the towrope became entangled around my left front wheel. When we stopped at traffic lights I alighted from my car and waved to my friend who repeated the gesture. Pointing to the underside of the vehicle I crouched down and began to tackle the rope. The lights changed. Off David sped. I leapt to my feet and started running. Between two motors tied together. The one following had no driver.
Fans of Stephen Spielberg’s 1971 TV masterpiece ‘Duel’ will know that it is possible to be chased by an apparently driverless vehicle. There was no question about mine. It was driverless. The driver was running down the road in front of it.
Naturally, I yelled a bit at David. Pat screamed at him to stop. He did. My Corsair didn’t. I turned to see it bearing down on me. Bracing myself for the impact I caught my car in my hands by the front bumper and actually managed to stop it. Unfortunately the front of the Ford also caught my leading leg, ripped it a bit, and my trousers even more.
As I limped to the kerbside after we’d all come to a halt, I might, I thought have been justified in being disappointed that no-one in the crowd that had now gathered seemed inclined to offer sympathy or concern for my health. They were all looking for the film crew. After all, why else would a young man wearing a brown velvet suit come a cropper in such an unlikely manner?
For anyone who is actually concerned, I simply suffered a little bruising, with my bones intact.
Oh gosh, Derrick, that was something of a memorable motoring accident! It does sound like a sub-plot scene from The Sweeney! Glad to hear you walked away with relatively minor injuries!
Thank you Peggy
I enjoyed your writing. Good post. 🙂
Thank you Satzie
An amazing story, colorfully told.
Many thanks, Ann. It was a bit of a romp (in retrospect)
I was actually concerned and I am so glad your trousers got the worst of that particular accident.
Thanks, Ann. Serendipity when you look back, cos it’s oft repeated over dinner 🙂
Blimey, that’s a tale and a half …. Buster Keaton himself might have demurred at playing the role! As it happens, the toilet roll (yes, that IS by far the best and available in French Lidl too) and being run over by one’s own car join forces in my own life-story – funny in the retelling which is far too long for your commentary box but not at all at the time!
Many thanks, Osyth. Perhaps you could post it 🙂
I probably should – shameful tale as it is (not my shame I hasten to add 😉)
Fantastic story, well told.
Many thanks, Oglach
Good heavens the scrapes you got into! 😀
More of a gouge, really 🙂 Many thanks, Pauline
Oh my. I stopped breathing for a moment. Well, until you wrote “After all, why else would a young man wearing a brown velvet suit … “. This made me giggle. Glad your injuries were not worse.
Many thanks, Persia. Two lovely responses
Pleasure, Derrick.
I am just shaking my head. I laughed, but then thought that you could have had both your legs crushed. But then I laughed again. But, really, you are so lucky you weren’t really hurt!
Yep. Thanks very much, Jodie
Very funny, oh for a film crew and a video. Sorry should say concerned about your injury.
Must admit that stopping the car with my bare hands wouldn’t have been my first thought. However, any man who would wear a brown velvet suit is obviously made of sterner stuff.
🙂 Many thanks, Quercus. The car was my pride and joy. I didn’t want it to get hurt any more
They were great cars – I always wanted one, but never managed it.
Well said!
🙂
🙂
What kind of idiot would run along 2 cars? ❓ 👿
What plan of action did said running idiot have? 😛
Was he expecting to change into his Superman outfit? ❓
Unbelievable! 😈
between along and 2 insert between 😀 😀 😛
Can;t stop laughing 😀
That car was my pride and joy. Glad I gave you a larf, Brian
They did that kind of thing on films, so it must have been possible 🙂 Many thanks, Melud.
<3 it! Glad you were unscathed, for the most part.
🙂 Thanks very much, Donna – worth it for a story that has lasted for ever
HA! I snort-laughed! 😀 It sounds like a “comedy of errors of sorts”! 😛
But, so glad you were not hurt badly!
(((HUGS))) 🙂
PS…reminds me of a story I should blog. 😀
I look forward to your story, Carolyn. Thanks very much, X
Your Corsair was concertinaed?? Lucky it was not a Cortina that was concatenated. 😉
That could have ended quite badly, happy to hear you survived the experience! (Even if the Velvet suit may not have.)
Many thanks, Bob. Fortunately it was the ’70s, so many colourful patches were applied
To the suit, yourself or the Corsair? Or all 3?? 🙂
Good one!
What a story! So glad you didn’t get run over by a driverless Corsair! I can just imagine the insurance company’s reaction! Towing is a risky business!
🙂 Thanks very much for following back, Amanda
I thought I was following already so you must have dropped off the list. I added you back!
I didn’t phrase that very well. I meant following the link to such a long ago post 🙂
Aha! Got that now.
Ha! Well told, Derrick! Glad you were not injured more severely. Loved your coy innuendos in the TP bit.
Thanks very much, Ed