www.albiestales.co.uk part two

A FINE ROMANCE
(Dorothy Fields /Jerome Kern)

Man’s voice
A fine romance, with no kisses,
A fine romance, my friend this is,
We should be like a couple of hot tomatoes,
But you're as cold as yesterday’s mashed potatoes.

A fine romance, you won’t nestle,
A fine romance, you won’t wrestle,
I might as well play bridge
With my old maid aunt -
I haven’t got a chance,
This is a fine romance.

Woman’s voice
A fine romance, my good fellow,
You take romance, I’ll take jello,
You’re calmer than the seals
In the Arctic Ocean,
At least they flap their fins
To express emotion.

A fine romance with no quarrels,
With no insults and all morals,
I’ve never mussed the crease
In your blue serge pants -
I never get the chance,
This is a fine romance.

EVER SINCE THE DAY she’d sat next to him in the studios of Anglia Television, a certain young lady had been consumed with an overwhelming desire to become better acquainted with Albie. Why this should have been was difficult to see – perhaps it was his fun-loving personality, or it could have been his impromptu performance of I Just Wanna Be Your Teddy Bear, in the style of Elvis Presley, in the Graphic Design room, as Albie had, for some time, been perfecting the King’s well-known hip gyrations in front of the bedroom mirror! But, whatever she saw in Albie, she was well and truly smitten, and it was only a matter of time before the pair were drawn together – at least that was her cunning plan!

ONE SUNNY NOVEMBER MORNING in 1959, Albie alighted from the Sheringham train with his student friends and there, sitting outside Thorpe Station on her bicycle, was a young lady.

“Hello Albie,” she said, as he emerged from the booking hall. “Fancy seeing you here!” However, she wasn’t at all surprised as she’d been planning her strategy ever since they’d attended The Midday Show at Anglia Television with the other students.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, rather taken back, “have we met?”

“I’m Rose, Rose Barton, but you can call me Roz – all my friends do! ” she laughed, getting off her bicycle and walking beside him.“We met at Anglia Television in the audience of The Midday Show – surely you remember me, don’t you?”

Of course he remembered her – how could he ever forget the way she had put her hand on his in such a forward way! It wasn’t that his memory had failed him, more like the embarrassment he felt at being met at the station by a such an outgoing girl. What effrontery, what on earth possessed the girl, he asked himself , meeting him at the station – what on earth would his friends think?

Albie’s travelling companions – all students like himself, though not artists – boys and girls from Sheringham, began smirking to each other and, leaving the couple together, continued on their way up Rose Lane heading for the Norwich Technical Institute on Ipswich Road – or the ‘Tech’ as they always called it.

“We’ll leave you to it,” shouted one of the students, glancing back over his shoulder. “Dun’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Albie began to glow bright red with embarrassment and wished the ground would just open up and swallow him.

“Don’t mind them,” laughed Roz, pushing her bike, “I’ll walk with you – that’s if you don’t mind, of course!”

Her walking with him? That was the last thing on his mind. “No, thanks,” he replied, quickly crossing the road, “I’d really like to be on my own...”

“Nonsense,” she replied, determined not to give in too easily, “You just need cheering up and a little company!”

There was to be no escape for Albie, it seemed!

CHALK AND CHEESE

On the way to the Art School in St George’s Street, Roz told Albie virtually her entire life story and, from what she said, it was obvious they were as different as chalk to cheese!

She was sophisticated, well-educated and well-versed in the finer things in life, and blessed with the kind of beauty that wars are fought over and, as a result, was never short of male admirers – in fact, they fell over themselves to contend for her favours.

She liked nothing better than to relax with a glass of cask-aged sherry, whilst listening to her favourite classical music, and how she loved dancing – ballroom dancing!

During the days when it was still considered socially acceptable to smoke, she would ask one of her many admirers to light up a Sobranie for her – those multi-coloured, ladies’ cocktail cigarettes in pastel pinks, blues and mint greens, preferred by debutantes and socialites.

This fashionable, well-dressed, young lady was also an extremely good artist and designer, producing work of the highest quality, and destined to go far!

Albie, however, was none of those things.

A very private person, keeping himself to himself, he was content with his own company – or that of Geoffrey and Nipper – and liked nothing better than to lounge about in his lilac shirt, with a pair of well-worn faded blue jeans from Sheringham Co-op and knee-length suede mosquito boots he’d bought from a stall at the back of Norwich Market.

He smoked ‘roll-up’ ciggies, handmade in a Rizla machine, with Liquorice paper filled with cheap tobacco, when he could afford that is, although he sometimes had to make do with a Churchwarden clay pipe full of his mum’s best ‘99’ tea! And, when it came to alcoholic beverages, he liked nothing stronger than a Coke or a Vimto!

As for dancing, well, Rock ’n’ Roll was here to stay for Albie, with ‘strictly come-dancing’ definitely not his style!

“I never can fathom out all that there classical stuff,” Albie told Roz, as they walked along Tombland, “I mean, that go on too long, an’ jist fizzle out, dun’t it?”

“I’m afraid there’s so-oo much for you to learn, Albie,” she replied, slightly taken aback by his lack of musical taste. “But, don’t worry, given time I can help you appreciate good music... and perhaps even a nice, sweet sherry!”

Albie, however, just wished the vociferous young lady would ‘whistle a very different tune’, grow tired of his lack of interest and cycle off ‘into the sunset’ leaving him in peace.

ALBIE PLANS HIS STRATEGY

On his arrival at Thorpe Station, he decided to leave the building by one of three exits. The first, most obvious, way out was through the main booking hall, or maybe safer to exit through the goods’ inwards and outwards, he thought. Planning to throw the girl completely off the scent, he opted instead for an escape route through a doorway by the left-luggage department.

“That should do the trick,” he told himself, “anything for a quiet life!”

Then he planned a roundabout route to the Art School, so as to arrive totally undetected, which should be enough for Roz to get the message, he hoped. But would it work?

Throughout the day, instead of concentrating on his perspective drawing and lettering classes, he planned everything down to the smallest detail. But, on the train home, he made one little mistake – he confided in his friends!

EVEN THE BEST-LAID PLANS...

The following morning, as his train approached Thorpe Station, Albie began to feel uneasy at the thought of what might lay ahead.

“For gawd’s sake, dun’t you laugh,” he appealed to his travelling companions, who viewed his predicament with a high degree of mirth, “but, if you see that Roz, dun’t you, whatever y’do, tell her which way I’ve gorn.”

“But, Albie,” said Adrian, who was training to be a professional golfer and lived close by his artist friend, “she looked a ‘bit of all right’ to me – you should be so lucky!”

“Tha’s not a question of luck,” replied Albie, getting up to open the carriage door as the train stopped in the station, “I jist en’t ready for any commitment yet – arter all I’ve got me career to think of...”

“I can understand that,” said Penny, another student, and friend of Albie and Adrian’s. “Didn’t you fail your exams last summer?”

“You dun’t hatta remind me,” replied Albie, stepping down onto the platform. “I git enough of that at home!”

“Are you gorn my way then, Albie?” asked Adrian in all innocence, as he struggled with a golf bag brimming over with woods and irons, on the face of it looking for a caddy!

“Sorry, Adrian,” replied Albie, “Riverside Road’s the way for me today!” And that was his big mistake!

Hot footing it down Riverside Road, Albie was only about half way and level with Pull’s Ferry, on the opposite bank of the river, when he heard the tinkling of a bicycle bell.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the distant figure of a girl on a bike, pedaling for all she was worth, gaining on him by the second.

Frantically, he quickened his pace, at the same time looking for an escape route – but there was none!

“Hello, Albie,” said Roz, screeching to a halt beside him, “and how are you this lovely morning?”

The lad was struck speechless. Was it purely by chance she’d cycled that way, or had she discovered his ruse – his master plan to avoid her?

Surely his friends would never have told her, as they were sworn to secrecy? No, he convinced himself, it was just luck that had caused that troublesome young lady to cross his path again.

Once more he was forced to listen to Roz as she accompanied him all the way to the Art School. But worse was to follow as, at break time, she sidled up to him in the Art School canteen as he stood enjoying a cup of coffee with his friends, Geoffrey and Nipper.

“Sorry,” she said, almost sounding sincere, “I really don’t want to butt in, but…”

“That’s all right, Roz,” replied Geoffrey, giving Nipper a knowing wink, “we’re just going – so you can have Albie all to yourself!”

“Can’t stop,” said Albie, looking rather flustered, hard on the heels of his friends. “I’ve gotta go...!”

And, with that, he went!

BECOMING A HABIT

During the days that followed, whichever route Albie took to the Art School, he had ‘company’, as often than not!

One day, in an attempt to evade Roz’s unwanted attentions, he took the most circuitous route he could think of – up Recorder Road, along the winding St Faith’s Lane and eventually emerging through an archway adjacent to the medieval Ethelbert Gate. Quickly crossing Tombland, he made for Waggon and Horses Lane and the relative safety of picturesque Elm Hill, close to the back entrance to the Art School.

But, all too soon, he heard the familiar sound of a bicycle clanking over the cobbles of the medieval street! Yet again, his plans had been thwarted!

“We’ll hatta stop meetin’ like this,” he laughed, putting a brave face on things, but secretly wondering how she always seemed to be one step ahead.

As far as Albie was concerned, it appeared that Roz – the genteel picture of sophistication itself – possessed a sixth sense, as she always seemed to know which devious route he taken.

Foolishly, he’d entrusted his ‘secret’ to his so-called ‘friends’, appealing to their better instincts never to reveal his whereabouts. Whilst they, being the mischievous lot they were, continued to gather intelligence on a daily basis – and took great delight in passing it on!

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

In the light of his disappointing academic performance at The Paston School – leaving, as you may recall, with one certificate of merit, Art – Albie made the decision to vindicate himself by retaking those subjects which he had failed so miserably, just two short years before.

Joining evening classes, held on the top floor of the Art School, the lad decided to throw himself into his studies, even though this meant catching the late-night train home to Sheringham every evening.

Unfortunately, this was to result in his inadequacies of learning being highlighted once again, much to his bitter disappointment. English, French and Mathematics remained the same boring subjects, whichever way Albie looked at them, and he soon realised, as an academic, he was destined never to shine, nor even emit the faintest glimmer!

However, as a result of his extracurricular, nocturnal activities, Albie found himself spending more time at the Art School, and it was only time before someone else noticed this too!

Day or night, wherever Albie was to be found, sooner or later Roz would appear as if by magic, and it was only a matter of time before she, too, enrolled herself on one of the evening classes, just to be near the lad.

“Hi, Albie,” she breathed, in her husky, deep-velvet tones, “you won’t object to me sitting next to you, will you?”

“I th-think,” he stuttered nervously, “the seat’s taken,” realising the hopelessness of his situation.

“By whom?” Roz grinned, giving Albie her warmest of smiles. “I cannot see anyone, can you?” and promptly sat herself down beside him.

“Anyway,” she continued, shuffling her chair closer to his, “Don’t be so stuffy, I don’t bite – well, not usually!”

Other students on the course began to exchange knowing glances and, by now, even Albie was almost beginning to get the message. It was all making him feel rather hot under the collar and his face was beginning to get quite flushed, whilst his heart was racing the four-minute-mile and his throat felt as dry and prickly as a piece of coarse sandpaper. He’d never experienced that feeling before – what on earth did it all mean, he wondered?

After the evening class, Albie quickly packed away his books in a locker outside the Graphic Design room, put on his duffle coat and headed for the back stairs. Soon he’d be safe and sound on his way home, he told himself.

“Shan’t take any chances tonight,” he muttered to himself, “I’m gorn the back way to the station!”

Silently, like a little spider, Albie crept down the dimly-lit back stairs towards the door that led out onto Elm Hill.

At the first-floor landing, he paused for a moment. “All clear,” he whispered quietly to himself, “no sign of the Roz...”

But, just around the corner, half-hidden in the shadows, the female ‘spider’ was laying in wait, determined to entice him into her web!

“Oh, there you are, Albie,” she said, leaping out at him like a spider pouncing on its prey. “Surely you didn’t think you could just slip away without saying ‘goodnight’ to me, did you?”

Albie knew there was to be no escape for him this time!

Trapped against the metal banister rails, looking at Roz, he suddenly realised he actually found her quite attractive. Flicking her auburn hair in a sensual manner, Roz knew everything was going according to plan, but she had to tighten her grip on her victim if she wanted to succeed.

In the meantime, Albie just stood there, frozen in his tracks!

“Sorry, Roz,” he blurted, glancing down at his wristwatch, “just look at the time, I must go or I’ll miss me train!”

She, however, just held her ground, hands on hips, and continued to block his escape route.

“Give me a kiss first,” she insisted, moving closer to the lad, until she was just inches away from his face, “then you may go – that’s if you really want to!”

For Albie there was no way out. Nothing for it, he decided, but to use brute force and, making a grab at her in the forlorn hope of getting past and down the remaining flight of stairs, his hands brushed up against her mohair jumper.

Roz took this as a sign of encouragement and threw herself into his arms, gazing deeply into his eyes for a spark of desire she knew to be there...

Was this really happening to him, Albie thought, or was it all but a dream?

Homeward bound, on the last train to Sheringham, all became clear as the friendly conductor-guard asked to see his season ticket.

“Hello, hello, young-fellow-me-lad,” he laughed, “is that lipstick I see on your collar?”

Albie blushed and, glancing at his reflection in the darkened train windows, he, too, noticed the telltale sign and knew he hadn’t been dreaming after all!

But was this to be the start of a fine romance, you may be wondering? Well, that’s another story!

NEXT: Albie is invited out for afternoon tea – and gets a surprise!

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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