Free Love

To my friend, Stefan: My conscience? I hope not. I hate my conscience. Admittedly, it stops me doing things I would probably regret at some later date, but these days it stops me doing things I would only regret a little, in the short term, but in the long term, they'd make great stories. But is life about stories? If the stories are real, I think it is.

I don't remember a red dress. There was one my Mum made from a revolutionary new material called fibreglass, but that was a beautiful pale apricot colour. The design was a variation of the tent-dress, with a front pleat & mandarin collar, edged in gold braid. Trouble was, halfway through the medal presentations, it began to itch like crazy. Mum later discovered it was only meant for curtains.

Believe me Stefan, you're not the only one to think that the age of free love passed you by. I was lucky, but I hasten to add that love is never entirely free. I think part of my luck was due to my Mum being pretty "hip". I remember her telling me "Say Yes to everything and as often as possible!". Fortunately, I was sensible enough to realise the dangers of taking that philosophy too far. Can I thank Gumley for that? Probably not. Norah lasted there longer than I did, but she was pregnant by a married man at 18 and dead from cervical cancer at 30. No, in truth, it was my parents who stopped me from going too far. Their love for me was total & the thought of letting them down unthinkable.