Two Turtle Doves

Back to Gatwick for another meeting today. Living on the road this week. Newbury tomorrow. In the fog if tonight is anything to go by; this is the scene on the bridge by my house under a red street light. Freezing cold.

The Dizzle had a less than optimal Science exam experience but a super optimal experience of playing Fifa 2012 on the x-box with his mother. Oh well.

Very taken with my friends Stella and George. They have become very "real" fictional characters for me. So here is day two of the twelve days of Christmas, taking us back to the very early days of their relationship in the late seventies ... Will I be able to keep this up?

Christmas 1978

George yawned as he pulled the rubber band off of another batch of Anti Nazi League leaflets and reflected that in terms of radical energy this was a far cry from the Rock Against Racism concert in Victoria Park earlier that year. That was the summer of course. It was always easier to be radical in the summer; somehow the depths of winter didn't lend themselves to taking to the streets, other than for a bit of Christmas shopping. Not that he had done any of that either.

He looked across the floor of the community centre hall; there she was, six trestle tables away. Stella caught his eye, grinned, lifted her hand in greeting, and a rubber band snapped from between her fingers and shot into the eye of the woman standing next to her.

"You stupid f***ing cow" she yelled before someone took her into a corner where there was a first aid kit, and proceeded to lecture her on the political incorrectness of bovine gender labelling, even from another woman. Stella didn't seem put out by either the accident or the insult, but came over to George and stared at him.

"Christmas in a couple of weeks" she said with wide eyes and dilated pupils.

"Yeah" said George. "What you doing then?"

"Working" said Stella. "Volunteering. The big shelter in Vauxhall. What about you?"

"Working" said George. "But for money" (this as if it was a sin, which for some of the comrades in the hall it was). "I've got the early shift, seven 'till two." George worked in a psychiatric hospital in Camberwell.

Tom Robinson's 'Glad to be Gay' filled the room as someone turned on the cassette player in the corner. This might be a subversive workshop for anti-nazi leafleteers but work still went better with some music. Five minutes in to Power in the Darkness however a young woman in tight denim shorts and an equally tight fitting top pulled a C6o from her bag and went over and changed the music.

"Christmas carols" said Stella, with a happy face as Good King Wenceslas bought a little bit of traditional Prague to the grey pavements of South London. There was a moment of tension in the room and some glances were exchanged at this sudden switch from left wing pop to traditional festive sounds; then a few shrugs and people went back to work.

"George" said Stella with even wider eyes and an even bigger grin. "I know you fancy me". George noticed she was swaying slightly and realised she was happily stoned.

The rest as they say was history. On Christmas day, after a mere six dates and three nights of pre-HIV conscious passion, they curled up together in Stella's little flat in a tower block in the back streets behind the Walworth Road. Lunch was nut roast and a joint (of the nearby Brixton variety) with hash brownies washed down by an unusual sparkling rose wine from the co-op that tasted like effervescent benolyn and tonic water.

They exchanged presents. George gave Stella a second hand book of push bike maintenance and Stella presented George with a large and badly wrapped present that was soft to the squeeze. When he pulled it out there were two very different sized grey turtle neck sweaters, each with a dove motif on the breast and the word 'peace' underneath.

George put his on over his tee shirt. Stella giggled and undressed provocatively in front of him, then put her own jumper on. She fell back on a pile of cushions and leaned over to turn on some music before laying back.

"I love Squeeze" she said referring both to the music and what was about to happen.

'Take me I'm yours
Because dreams are made of this
Forever there'll be
A heaven in your kiss'

It wasn't until afterwards, just as he was falling asleep after a final and explosively strong joint, that he realised the significance of the matching jumpers. Two turtle necks with doves ... two turtle doves ...

Even years later he would be unable to ask her whether the pun was intended or simply a happy coincidence.