Memory Lane - At Dad's Office

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

When I was a kid, we only had one car so, if my mother needed to go shopping or whatever, dad would drive to work, and then she'd take the wheel.

 

Indulge me in a little tangent a moment because, as I wrote that first sentence, a related memory surfaced.

 

My mother was pint-sized.  

 

Our car was massive.  

 

I know it was an Austin something-or-other and, having done some Googling, I suspect it was a Cambridge Countryman:

 

 

 

Basically, my mother wasn't tall enough, even with a cushion, to see over the steering wheel.  She drove, literally, imitating an old lady waving her hands from side to side above her head at an exercise class, to enable constant course correction.  It was like a drunk captain driving a boat.  Even as a toddler, it used to scare the living shit out of me when dad got out and mom got into the driving seat.

 

Right, digression over.

 

So we'd do the shopping, run errands, bla bla bla, and head back to the office to pick up my dad.

 

I thought his office was such a big deal.  The professionally dressed people bustling about, the imposing  foyer, the over-friendly secretary, my father's huge desk...

 

And in the top left hand drawer, he always - always - had Imperial Mints, and I was given one, and never more than one, as a treat.  I distinctly remember the green and white box and the taste of the saucer shaped sweet as I gobbled it up, the mintiness hitting the back of my tongue.  

 

 

 

So, one day, we're waiting for my dad to finish work.  His office building was built around a central courtyard, which had a rectangular fish pond in the middle.  As per the style at the time, it was surrounded by grey slasto.  There was a little wall thingy around it, probably about a 30-40cm high, with a top about the same width.  And, of course, bored as hell waiting - the 5 minutes worth of distraction provided by the mint over and having been told that I was not allowed to put my fingers in the water to poke the fish - I began walking round and round the pond on the little wall.

 

 "Stop that!" my mother cautioned.  "You'll fall in!"

 

I don't have to tell you - do I? - that I didn't listen.

 

Quite the opposite.  I increased speed.

 

And I fell in.

 

Yes, I know you saw that one coming.

 

My mother tut-tutted, and went into dad's office to borrow his jersey, take off whatever I was wearing and cover my dripping 4 year old body in a piece of clothing that was 20 times too big for me.

 

Word spread, as it does in any office, and it didn't take long for ladies from the typing pool (yes, this was a long time ago...) came over to "console" me, patting my sodden hair while choking back giggles.

 

I was completely and utterly humiliated.

 

And my mother, in that way that only mothers can do, wasted no time in telling me that she tried to warn me, and that next time, hopefully I'd listen!

 

Yeah, fat chance.

 

Ah, the things we remember...

  

 

 

To read more in the Memory Lane series, click here.

 

You might like to read more about my mother.