At Home
Reading some of these recollections takes me back to one memorable gathering at the married quarter of a rather straight-laced Wg Cdr and his American wife. The ‘fun detector’ and myself arrived at the appointed hour and proceeded to mingle and make the usual small talk with the other guests.
Drinks and nibbles were distributed and everything was following the usual predicable pattern when a loud Scottish voice in the hall preceded the arrival in the room of ‘Jock’ a flight lieutenant who always had an opinion on everyone and everything. It was obvious that his rather downtrodden wife had failed in her attempts to keep him off the sauce prior to the event and he quickly started hoovering down additional gin & tonics. Before long he was leering down the cleaverage of the wing commanders wife, spilling food on the carpet and drink down his shirt. You could see people trying their best to ignore what was happening and also shuffling around the room so as not to get trapped by him when he lurched in their direction. Eventually, much to everyone’s relief, he sat down on a sofa to leer at one of the younger wives and then slowly but surely his head fell to one side and he slipped into a deep sleep, with a line of drool slowly running down the corner of his mouth.
The drinks, nibbles and small talk continued much as before, with everyone doing their best to ignore the semi-conscious figure slumped on the sofa. Then end was rather predicable. Having slept for a good 30-40 minutes Jock slowly began to stir into life at a time when there was a slight lull in the conversation. He slowly extended one of his legs whilst at the same time letting out an impressively loud, two octave fart that had sufficient recoil to stir him from his slumbers. He then sat up, looked around, saw his wife looking aghast and announced that it was time for her to take him home.
Easily the most memorable ‘At Home’ I ever attended.
Matoman