If you could write a perfect holiday for yourself it couldn’t get any better than this.
I worked for Gestetner Ltd from 1964 until 1969. I started out as a chauffeur and ended up as Offset Service Manager for the City Branch, but that is another story. I also worked part-time as a mini-cab driver. That, too, is another story.
After my chauffeuring stint I was transferred to the Offset Printing Division to be trained as a problem solver and trainer. After my training I spent time travelling around the U.K helping local Gestetner branches solve their Offset Machine problems. On one occasion, in August of 1968, I was sent to Jersey in The Channel Islands for a week. Jersey was one of the favourite holidaying resorts for Brits. Just off the north coast of France, it had a good climate and an interesting history. So I thought, why not make a holiday of it and take an extra week. It was the first two weeks of August which was a traditional time for Brits to holiday. Good news and bad news. The good news, of course, was that there would be plenty of women. The bad news was that the hotels would be full.
I spoke to my friend Geoff and tried to get him interested in coming with me for the first week. Geoff was 6 feet tall, slim build, good looking and very personable. But he had a “piece missing”. He couldn’t make decisions. In true Geoff fashion he hum’ed and ha’ed. One time Geoff had called me to help him with a dilemma. He had two choices for a date on a Sunday. He couldn’t decide whether to take one girl out for tea or another one out for dinner. I told him that he has to be more assertive, more definite and make a decision. He told me I was right and took my advice but not as I meant it. He said, “Russell you are absolutely correct, I am definitely taking Anne out for tea and Jackie out for dinner.”. Not exactly what I meant but you now can see what I was dealing with.
I had known Geoff since we were 10 years old at the same Grammar school. We were now in our mid 20’s and I knew what would convince him. I told him I was renting a Triumph Spitfire
sports car. He was in and very excited. Did I mention he was shallow? Really! A 2-seater Spitfire on an island full of young women? I rented a Morris Minor 1000 convertible. 4-seats, no waiting. I’ll deal with him when we get there. One problem at a tim
e. The main problem now was getting a room. I finally managed to get one night at the Hotel de France in St. Helier, the main Jersey town. After that we would be spending 6 nights at The Hermitage, a well-known resort hotel in the middle of the island near the south coast.
We flew to Jersey and went to the car rental place. I went inside and rented the Morris Minor, got the keys and went outside to tell Geoff the bad news. The Spitfire hadn’t been returned so in the meantime we would have to make do with a Morris Minor. It went as well as I expected. He had a temper tantrum. But finally he calmed down and we were on our way. On the way with me driving, Geoff cheered up and admitted this was a fun car, let’s not change it. So far, so good. We checked in to the hotel in St. Helier and in true Geoff form he had made a date within minutes with one of the waitresses.
The next day we left for The Hermitage. We checked in and after a long walk to our room we arrived, unpacked and went down for lunch.
The restaurant was a large horseshoe shaped room and as we walked to our table I couldn’t help noticing how many women were watching us. Strange, I thought, but verrry interesting. I mentioned this fact to Geoff who, of course, hadn’t noticed. On our way out the same thing occurred and this time Geoff noticed. He was visibly encouraged and so was I. There were a number of young girls around our age just milling around in the hotel lobby. Encouraged by our reception both coming and going in the restaurant, I threw caution to the wind and went up to a pair of girls and asked them if they would like to come with us to the beach. “Oh yes”, they both replied. And so off we went, spending the afternoon on the beach.
That night we took them out for dinner. Jersey closed up at 10pm on a Sunday and so at 10pm we were sitting in our Morris Minor trying to decide what to do. What the heck, I thought, in for a penny, in for a pound. So I suggested we go swimming at Greve de Leq. Skinny dipping in Jersey was illegal at that time. So I chose Greve de Leq beach which was on the north coast and as far away from crowds as I could get. Well the girls both screamed “yes” with enthusiasm. I was in and that left Geoff who was concerned that he didn’t have a swim suit or a towel. Idiot! Off I drove as fast as I could, before the girls had a chance to change their minds. We arrived at the parking lot next to the beach. The girls were out, undressed and running down to the water. I was half undressed and Geoff was still sitting there saying “but we don’t have any swim suits”. Quickly I said, “for god’s sake, get out, get undressed and get in the water before I smack you one.”. I’m not a violent person but Geoff could make a monk mad.
Finally all four of us were in the water splashing about. Suddenly 4 cars arrived at the parking lot with their headlights blazing. “It’s the cops”, I yelled and we all ran to the car, the headlights blinding us and we waited for the worst. Inside the car 4 wet people were trying to get dressed. The clothes were all in a jumble. Blinded by the headlights I was trying to put on panties. Finally I just put my pants on without underwear. We were all soaked, shivering and scared. After what seemed an eternity, we heard the doors of the other cars close and lots of yelling and screaming. It was just kids like us going for a dip.
Oh well, the mood was broken. We got back to the hotel and let the girls out first. We parked the car and Geoff and I sauntered into the lobby still visibly wet with our underwear over our shoulders. The night guard looked at us and said “what happened to you two?”. We explained what had happened and his only comment was, “but you only got here today.”.
In Britain it was common to be woken up with a prearranged morning tea. So at 8 am there was a knock on the door and in walked a very pretty maid with our teas. Geoff and I looked at each other and I knew what Geoff was thinking. The next morning at 7:59 am Geoff was awake in bed already brushed his teeth, combed his hair and was appearing to sleep, with his glasses on no less. He was lying in wait. 8 am there’s a knock and in walks the same maid. She managed to get out of the room unharmed but not before Geoff had arranged to meet her that night. And of course to bring a friend for me.
We went down for breakfast. By now our previous night’s experience had been whispered all over the hotel. The looks as we entered for breakfast now had a smile. We were a hit! But as yet we did not really understand why. It would be two more days before we found out what all the fuss was about.
We had breakfast at our table and afterwards walked out into the lobby and spoke to the first attractive girls we could see and repeated the whole day with new friends. Well not the whole day just the beach thing. That night was reserved for the maid and her friend.
So far, you couldn’t write a more perfect holiday than this. Still the holiday was far from over.
When we went down for dinner on our 2nd night we found we had two more at our table for four. Two young guys from England. One was very good looking and presentable, the other one looked like he’d had a bad accident. He had some teeth missing and generally quite the opposite in appearance from his friend. They had been to the hotel before and listened intently to our adventures of the last two days. I don’t know if they believed us, I certainly wouldn’t have.
The next day started out the same as the others. But this day we were going to stay at the hotel and rest up. The Hermitage had a nice pool in the centre of its property surrounded by chalets. We found a spot, took off our glasses put on our sunscreen and laid out on our towels. A nice day in t
he sun. Suddenly I looked up and spotted, without my glasses and I was near sighted, what appeared to be a one legged blur hopping towards the pool. Curious, I put on my glasses and went towards the pool looking for answers. I couldn’t see any one legged people in the pool so I figured I was mistaken. Then it happened again. I nudged Geoff, told him what I had seen and he put his glasses on too. Sure enough on closer observation we saw quite a few monopods. Curious. We went for lunch and told our new friends about our discovery. I said we were probably the only guys here with both legs. The good looking guy smiled at me and smacked his knuckles on his leg. There was a hollow sound; he was also a monopod. It turns out that The Hermitage is a favourite spot for amputees. Apparently the pool, being surrounded by chalets, prevents gawkers from just standing there and observing them. Who knew? Well now we did. And now we also knew what made Geoff and I so special in the hotel. We now understood why all the women stared at us. We had two of everything we should have. It wasn’t our faces and physiques the women admired; it was our legs. With that mystery solved we could do no wrong, we were the men; we had it made in the shade. We got bolder, as if that were possible. Everyone knew us and everyone knew of our adventures. We were the most popular 2-legged guys there, if only for the remainder of the week.
So now drunk with power, knowing that we could do no wrong we came up with a great idea. A way to embarrass some young ladies at breakfast and get a huge laugh from everyone in the restaurant.
I borrowed the necessary items from our friendly maid and the next morning Geoff and I marched into breakfast smiling like crazy and went straight up to the table with all the girls. The nearby groups of breakfasters were watching and waiting. They knew something mischievous was about to happen. I chose the prettiest girl at the table and said, not so quietly, with my hand outstretched, “I think you left these in my room last night.”. They were earrings. She laughed, blushed and said, “no, no, they’re not mine.”. “Well then these must be yours”, and I pulled out a pair of panties. By this time all of the guests at the nearby tables had stopped eating and were watching intently. Again the young girl denied all knowledge. Appearing to be confused I pulled out of another pocket, a pair of tights, “then surely these must be yours?”, I demanded. She again denied it profusely. Everyone was laughing. “Well then”, I continued in mock exasperation, “whose are these?”, and walked around the table as if I was trying to find the owner. Of course no one owned up and Geoff and I walked off with a confused, puzzled look on our faces. The audience was hysterical. We were “the kings” of The Hermitage. Everyone knew who we were and we basked in it. We could do no wrong. And that’s it pretty much. The rest of the week was spent on the beaches, in the hotel and we always had plenty of female company.
On Saturday Geoff went home and I stayed for work. It was now Sunday night and I was in the bar with a whole crowd. “It’s Sunday night”, I yelled, “who’s ready for a skinny dip?”, I asked in jest. “I am”, came an unexpected reply from a cutie. And off we went. It was déjà vu all over again.
Geoff and I remained friends even after I left for Toronto. A few years ago I dug out a video I had taken during our Jersey holiday. He had little or no recollection of how good the holiday was and the funny things that had happened. Go figure.
