A small gathering of six old friends shared a meal, their only connection we thought was through us.
Surprise, surprise as the stories were exchanged, the connections grew and grew.
“Where were you brought up?”
Drew a blank no connection there.
“What was your first job?”
“Worked weekends in a meatpacking business as a teenager to earn pocket money, earning enough to buy a car. Sadly I earned more at the weekend than my dad did in a whole full-time week.”
A graphic description of the job was given all rather boring and horrid.
Till the gems of black humour appeared, playing unmentionable games on one another to break the tedious repetitive boredom.
The laughter started to flow as another took up their story.
“I worked in a funeral parlour for good pocket money. My job was glueing all the linings in the coffins as they stood up against the wall.”
My husband added that his father at the age of about 17 was in the army towards the end of the First World War. He was in charge of German prisoners who were searching for dead bodies, to have them identified and returned to their homeland where possible.
On his return to England, there was dreadful unemployment. He did manage to work the milk round, twice daily. He had to walk miles to get there in all weather. Slowly he worked his way up to be the manager. Not bad for a man ladling milk out of churns into the customer's jugs.
At the gathering, relaxed local connections were made from the past. They knew lots of people between them, but the last was the best.
At one time they discovered they had lived a street or two away from each other and had never met.
We laughed and laughed before I said “and your connection was through us recently made. You might never have met otherwise.”
The conversation gathered picked up pace, as more connections were made.
“I used to work for Mr ….
“ No way, to I did too, when were you there?”No, I was there before you”
“I knew a famous NZ painter once.”
“Who was that then?”
“Getaway we knew him, but knew his parents better.”
“What happened to them?”
“They moved away, didn’t they, dear?”
“Yes, we lost touch with them too.”
The topics changed to the ladies, “my dad was a big burly farmer, he taught me to knit, he used to sit in the kitchen with knitting hot water bottle covers.
I hesitated to enquire fast enough, “what for? “
Only later while going over the conversations, I think it might be for young sick lambs. I shall have to enquire!
“We travelled to India on business.”
Setting us off on another interesting topic. Involving food, smells, customs and colourful costumes, with lovely people.
Towards the end of the evening, we discovered that everyone from their hard-working beginnings had done well.
We had our own homes, some had run their own international and local businesses.
One was a scientist, the wives in the main supported their husband’s and brought up their children, before returning to work.
On retirement, we all started to travel to see the world and managed to see some interesting and exotic places.
Canal boating in England and France produced more hilarity.
As the evening drew to a close, new long term friendships were established with attached strings from the past.
I just thought you might like a glimpse of a very entertaining evening amongst friends.
© 2022 Penny Wobbly of WobblingPen
Photo: Pixabay License
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