www.albiestales.co.uk part two

WITH THE FESTIVE SEASON of 1959 almost upon them, the students from the Norwich School of Art broke up for the Christmas holidays, leaving Roz and Albie with the daunting prospect of being apart for the next three or four weeks. But would their relationship survive that length of time, or would their attentions stray in other directions? For Albie, that idea was unthinkable, but could he be absolutely sure of Roz?

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Albie’s mother reminded him as he moped about the house. “Besides the change’ll do ya good – tha’s not healthy for you to spend so much time runnin’ around arter mawthers!”

“More like absence makes the heartache longer!” he moaned in reply. “An’ I’m sure Roz feels the same!”

“The mawther probably en’t giving you a second thought,” his mother replied, fed up with his morose ramblings.“Besides, there’re pletty more fish in the sea!”

The lad was inconsolable, nothing his mother could say would ever make up for the way he was missing his girlfriend and, as for the season of goodwill it was destined to be a blue, blue Christmas for him!

A day or two later, on a snowy Christmas Eve to be exact, a card arrived for Albie, postmarked Norwich. It was from Roz! Quickly he tore open the envelope, which smelled of her familiar perfume, and opened the pretty Christmas Card, which said, quite simply: To Albie, with love from Roz’.

“I must go and telephone Roz,” Albie told his mother, getting his bicycle out of the garden shed. “I’ll go to the box in Briton’s Lane – shan’t be long!”

“But surely the one next to the Exchange is closer, or perhaps at the Post Office?” his mother asked, but, too late, as Albie was already pedalling up Regis Place for all he was worth.

Why Albie went to Briton’s Lane to make a telephone call still remains a mystery to this very day. However, his mother was quite correct in saying others were much closer – but the little red box, in sight of nearby Beeston Bump, was to become his firm favourite. In that little red kiosk he would spend many happy hours talking to Roz – until the operator reminded him, “Your time is up, Caller, will you put more money in the box?”.

Propping his bicycle against the side of the telephone box, Albie struggled to open the heavy door – frozen shut following the hard overnight frost – and went inside where the strong smell of disinfectant did little to mask the odour of stale cigarette smoke.

Picking up the receiver, he put his tuppence in the slot and dialled ‘O’ for the Operator.

“Number, please, Caller?” asked the lady at the telephone exchange.

“Norwich, please,” replied Albie, “three, three – one-oh-one…”

“Thank you, Caller, connecting you…”

Albie could hear the telephone ringing, but would Roz be at home? He dearly hoped so!

“You’re through,” announced the Operator, “press button ‘A’ please.”

Anxiously, he pressed the big silver button, hearing his two pennies chinking into a large metal box underneath, and said: “Hello, is Roz there please?”

“Hello, is that you, Albie?” she asked, on the other end of the telephone line in Thorpe St Andrew. “It’s so lovely to hear from you, I am missing you so much – Happy Christmas!”

“Yes,” confessed Albie, “I miss you an’orl – an’ I wish I could have you on Christmas Day!”

“Oooh, you naughty boy,” his girlfriend replied, “what a thing to say to a respectable young maiden!”

“No – oh, n-no,” stuttered a rather embarrassed Albie, “what I meant was – in my Christmas stocking…”

“Oh, dahling,” she breathed huskily down the ’phone, “I do hope they’re a delicate shade of tan – the colour does so suit my legs!”

“Thanks for your Christmas card,” he replied quickly, feeling guilty at not having sent her a card. “Sorry I’ve not sent one, but I’ve got a little something for you. Can it wait until we’re back at the Art School in the New Year?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll look forward to that,” Roz replied, “but, whatever can it be?”

“If she wants to know that badly,” interrupted the Operator, “you’ll hatta put some more money in the box – as your time is up!”

A SPECIAL GIFT FOR ROZ

Early in January 1960, on his first day back at the Norwich School of Art, Albie presented Roz with her belated Christmas present – an umbrella. It was not just any ordinary umbrella, but an elegant parasol finished in a delicate shade of lilac – Albie’s favourite colour – with a matching strap and cover – and fit for a lady.

He had felt slightly embarrassed at carrying the present through the streets of Norwich, gift-wrapped, as it was, in pretty holly-and-ivy paper tied with a big lilac bow! But it was all worth it because the moment Roz set her eyes on her present they lit up with delight.

“What a lovely surprise!” she squealed, ripping open the package. “Oh – my very own umbrella – and what a delightful colour!”

“I’m so glad you like it,” replied Albie, as she gave him a big kiss in front of all the other students. “They got it in especially for you at the Co-op!”

Dangling it from her wrist, using the colour co-ordinated strap, Roz gave the umbrella a quick twirl.

“Do you not think it makes me look so-oo very elegant?” she declared, posing for all the students with one hand on her hip. “I feel like a debutante!”

“So do I!” laughed Albie.

ALBIE PAINTS A PICTURE

Albie had only been back at Art School for two weeks but, already, he had begun to knuckle down to his studies determined to work hard so as to pass the Intermediate Examination in Arts and Crafts, which he had failed so miserably the previous year.

To be honest, Roz had encouraged him to put an end to all his ‘messing around, by always being there keeping a watchful eye on him. She was, it seems, a sobering influence on the lad and all impressions were that he was settling down at last.

They went everywhere together; they attended the same art classes and lectures, they went on sketching expeditions, they visited the many museums in Norwich researching local arts and crafts, in fact they had become inseparable.

As the result of Roz’s encouragement and guidance, Albie discovered the inspiration he had always sought after, and his work went from strength to strength. Working from a pencil drawing of Roz, which he had sketched as part of his course work, Albie transferred his composition on to canvas.

Working at home on his painting, Albie spent many hours just trying to capture Roz’s likeness, sometimes deep into the night, until one day early in February it was finished.

“Wha’d’ya think of this then, Roz?” he asked, unveiling his painting at the Art School a few days later. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” she replied, with tears in her eyes, “I love it! It’s wonderful! To be immortalized on canvas is... so very special – thank you, so very, very much, Albie!”

“I’m glad you like it,” replied Albie, handing her the canvas, “you may keep it if you wish...”

With tears running down her cheeks, Roz took the painting from him. “I shall treasure it forever,” she said.

ROZ VISITS ALBIE ON HIS BIRTHDAY

The following Saturday, on Albie’s nineteenth birthday, Roz decided to spring a surprise on him by paying him a visit. Catching the mid-morning train from Thorpe Station to Sheringham, she arrived in the seaside town just after eleven, and walked the short distance to his house.

“Oh, just you look who’s here!” said Albie’s mother, as she opened the back door, “tha’s Roz come to see you!”

“Hi, Albie,” said Roz, giving her boyfriend a hug and a big kiss, “Happy Birthday, Darling!”

“Oh, what a surprise! It’s really good to see you,” he replied, returning her kiss, much to his mother’s displeasure. “Tha’s been such a long time!” It hadn’t really, as they had only seen each other at the Art School the day before!

“This is for you,” said Roz proudly, handing Albie a birthday present.

“Whatever can it be?” replied Albie, all thumbs as he unwrapped his unexpected gift.

“Oh – a book on lettering and typefaces! How very useful!” he continued, gazing at the little yellow book in his hand. “Thanks ever so much, Roz!” Then he gave her another kiss.

“Come on, you two,” said his mother, finding their display of affection rather distasteful. “If you must slop around each other, go out and do it elsewhere – but don’t be late for lunch!”

So, leaving Regis Place behind them, arms entwined, they headed up Cliff Road to Beeston Bump where they could ‘canoodle’ to their heart’s content! At the top of the hill, a landmark for miles around, they paused from their ‘billing and cooing’ to admire the panorama stretching out before them.

“Let’s go to Runton,” Albie suggested, as they descended the steep steps cut into the side of the hill. “We can go down on the beach, if you like?”

Roz laughed: “It’s just as well I came prepared, put on my tartan trews and not a dress, isn’t it?”

Hand in hand they walked over the clifftops to West Runton where, as the tide was out, taking off their shoes and socks, they ran across the sand towards the rock pools, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind them.

Plucking up courage, they had a paddle in the sea at the water’s edge against their better judgement as, after all, it was only February.

“It’s ab-so-lutely free-eezing!” yelled Roz, jumping from foot to foot. “My toes have gone all numb!”

“Tha’s not that bad,” replied Albie, writing his and her names in the wet sand, surrounded by a large heart.

“Oh, how sweet!” said Roz, gazing at his handiwork with approval, “that reminds me of a song...”

“On an day like today,” sang Albie, though slightly off-key, “we passed the time away...”

“Writing love letters in the sand,” Roz continued, making it a duet and quite good it was too – but, alas, their only audience was a few gulls who were more intent on scavenging in the rock pools for a tasty morsel than listening to their melodic attempts!

Continuing their walk along Runton beach, Albie and Roz began gingerly picking their way across slippery, seaweed-covered rocks, pausing for a moment to peer deep into the many rock pools that dotted the sandy beach. Nearby, was a vast plateau of milky-white chalk, laid down millions of years ago, formed from the remains of generations of long-dead sea creatures and, as Albie knew, very rich in fossilized remains.

“Hey, Roz,” said Albie suddenly, “let’s go fossil-hunting, shall we?”

“I can think of something much better to do!” replied Roz, putting her arms around his neck...

NEXT: Albie and Roz make the discovery of a lifetime!

SOME OF ALBIE’S FAVOURITE WEBSITES A Norfolk Entertainer A Moment in Time Enjoy North Norfolk Enjoy Norwich Flint Holiday Cottages Norfolk Churches Norfolk Dialect Norfolk Village Signs Norwich City Hall and the Lions Picture Norfolk Remember Norfolk Sculthorpe Spyplanes

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