Samuel, The Sun Inn, Cottesmore! I still cringe with embarrassment. 67’ish. 9 o’clockish. For some reason Corporal Tech forget (RAF Retd) is having a pint with the WingCo Tech. Nice chap. He confides in me that it’s the Groupie’s birthday and he’ll have to leave soon for a surprise party at the ‘Mansion’. Shortly after, he does so. Down the social drinking scale I slide, and back to the ‘lads’ - they who fixed the flying machines which protected the nation against the Red Hordes, all suited and tied lest we bump into a raiding party of Corby Commandos. ‘What shall we do now?’, someone asks. ‘Fancy a birthday party?’ says I. Unanimous. We need some bottles. Bottles arrive, paid for. Into the Mkll Zodiac. ‘Where’s the party then?’ as we pass through the main gates. ‘Secret’, says I.
Mansion looms closer. ‘You are ------- joking!’, from the back seat.
Around the gravel drive we go and up to the front door. Ring the bell. Answered by flunky. ‘May we speak with Group Captain G….., we from Line Squadron bring best wishes for his birthday celebrations’.
Group Captain and Mrs G….. arrive at the door and a case of Ruddle’s Best is offered. Only one remark from the ‘lads’ sticks in my mind, ‘Hello Groupie, I’m Spike Mardell. Happy Birthday’.
Cool didn’t come into it, these two people were what we from the Norf of England used to call ’classy’. Full marks Mrs G……! ‘Come in gentlemen, you are all most welcome’.
Into the enormous lounge we went, Mrs G…. cradling the case of Ruddle’s Best. The place is packed with very, very, senior people, including the WingCo Tech, looking oddly in my direction.
Oh God…….. Did I really do that? It was a great night, but I do remember lying in bed early next morning mulling over whether to go to work, or head for the nearest docks. Full marks to everyone; it was never, ever, mentioned again.
If you’re still around, Group Captain and Mrs G…… (RAF Retd), next ones on me.