Prima Fanny

 

PRIMA FANNY

I had a cousin, a lady called Fanny Benady.

Well, not really my cousin, sort of my mother's cousin once removed..... or something like that ... anyway she was the cousin of my maternal grandfather and she lived in Governors Parade. She was an elderly spinster and lived on the third floor of a building next to the old Theatre Royal. It was always a bit of an effort those tea-time sessions with Mum, Prima Fanny (who even had a lady in waiting employed) and myself. I think the age gap between Prima Fanny and I had enough years for a whole new programme by David Attenborough.

We are talking about the mid-1950s. I was just a kid then. TV had not been invented and there were no games to play at Prima Fanny's  while the ladies chatted and had tea and home-made cakes, discussing various recipes with great enthusiasm. Meanwhile back in my own Lonesome Land I would trance out having already learnt it was a home with no comics either. As you can imagine, one day, as soon as I found the courage, I confronted Mum and told her point blank:

"Ya no voy más de Prima Fanny! Me aburrooooooo!"
("I'm not going ever again to Cousin Fanny's. It is boooooring!")

I had had enough of sitting quietly at the tea table, sipping tea (which I hated), complete with cup and saucer, and eating cake using a fork or spoon!
All proper like.
Though Mum was very strict with me, she realised it was better to grant me parole than risk my being rude to Prima Fanny the next time we had to visit.

Rude?????
Little did we all know what irony the Universe had planned for me.

Fast forward to 1963 or thereabouts.

The Theatre Royal had become both obsolete and dilapidated as a cinema. But the management had leased out a large room on the ground floor foyer which had been converted into the "Whisky-a-Go-Go Discotheque".
Come to think of it, whatever happened to discotheques? Like white tennis balls, they disappeared, only to become..... no longer discotheques.... but called Clubs!.
Anyway, the Whisky-a-Go-Go became very popular. Saturday nights it was full to the brim with couples, groups of young girls and hopeful young men on the prowl. And of course, one of those young men was yours truly, as usual joined by my stalwart close friends Toby, David Hassan, Hanny, Mark, Eli and assorted others …. la Panda. In those days we all dressed really well for these evenings; guys in suits and the girls in in beautiful frocks. The dance floor was the Hunting Ground and our weapons were our individual expertise in dance steps like Cha Cha, Samba, Paso Doble and the new dances like  the Twist, the Shake and certainly Rock'n'Roll. It was fun, it was civilised, and sexy in a most kindergarten way.
And we drank....

I have to confess that I do not know how to drink. I can just about handle beer, wine was not fashionable then, and the hard stuff like whisky, gin and vodka tended to bring out the Mr Hyde in me with the minimum consumption. I tended to nurse a beer an average between an hour and an hour and a half, camouflaging my inability from all the "macho" guys around who downed their shots with apparent ease.

I remember there was a Spanish group playing and they were very good. They were very simpatico and had the knack of building up the atmosphere and keeping it at crescendo for hours on end.
One particular Saturday night my "treacherous" friends decided it was time I learnt how to “drink like a man”! Bastards one and all, they plied me with what felt like a whole Brewery of foul tasting drinks which I had the courage and the supreme stupidity of drinking.

Enter Mr Hyde!

Apparently, I created such a ruckus, both at the bar and the dance floor, as well as stumbling over those deceitful low tables and stools, my friends decided to take me outside to the fresh air. This was very late at night 2 or 3 in the morning. A drunk Mr Hyde and the Cold Night Air was a bad combination. I started to sing and shout and though personally I was having a great time, it appears that nobody else was enjoying it..... But I certainly was! Alarmed at the scene I was causing, my well-meaning friends, yes the same treacherous bastards that has got me into that state, tried to quieten me down.

"Venga, Benata, calla ya ... que Fanny Benady te va oir!"

("Come in Bentata, shut up... Fanny Benady will hear you!")

Little did they know!
Years of pent-up anger and forced good manners at those boring tea parties of Prima Fanny were ignited by those words.
Shrugging off their well-meaning hands holding me back, I staggered below the (hopefully, yes!) bedroom window of poor Fanny and yelled the coarsest of insults at the poor woman! Considering that I had lived many years opposite the Cafe Universal Honky-Tonk, my selection of swear words was something to be proud of .... and there, in Governors Parade, outside the poor old lady’s window, I gave vent to the most awful selection of colourful language, bilingually, why not…. and not even all my friends could shut me up!

It took them a while, but gradually they did, after laughing their heads off at me no doubt. Eli, who was the oldest among us then, as well as bring best able to hold his drink, volunteered to take me home. Poor bastard! No sooner had we reached Church Lane when the Heavens opened, and as if in defense of Fanny, it rained a deluge that quickly soaked us both to the skin!

Did I care are?
Did I Hell!

I remember falling in the gutter on the corner of The Emporium and the rain water rushing down City Mill Lane actually flowed over my prostrate body. It was only Eli’s determination that managed to get me to my family home.... much to the disgust of my father who was convinced he had sired a drunken, delinquent son with no hope of salvation! My resident protector, yes, Mum, who else?.... managed to steer me along the interminable corridor to my bedroom. She somehow stripped me from my sewer-soaked clothes and got me to bed. As a wise precaution she placed a basin on the floor where I could vomit my regrets between bouts of trying to stay on a bed which had decided to become a roller coaster for me that night.

Resurrection came around Sunday midday together with the joint storm-troopers of headache, dizziness and feeling absolute yuk!

Never again! .... Well, almost never again .... But certainly, getting that drunk became very rare for me.

Somehow, I had to confess to my parents the spectacle and shameful behaviour outside Prima Fanny's window. Mum was appalled ....Dad less so. I think he did not like her that much, or perhaps he did not have patience for prissy tea-times anyway. I was made to promise to apologise..... and I did so once I realised there was no time limit in which to do so.
And it certainly took time.

I did not speak to Prima Fanny for 15 years.

For 15 years I kept an eye out for her in Main Street and in functions where I knew she would be invited. It was no big deal since she was very elderly and did not go out too much. But I harboured the guilt and the duty to apologise for those 15 years..... Until, I think it was at a wedding or some such like celebration, we coincided in the same hall. I was very much an adult by then and decided to slay the dragon, no, not Fanny, the dragon of my of guilt; to man up to my despicable behaviour. 15 years was too much for any guilty man.

"Prima Fanny, how are you?"

"Why are you talking to me? You have avoided me for years!" No mincing of words from her, she was known for that.

"Well ... I wanted to apologise...."

"For avoiding me?" I tell you, she was stainless steel, giving not an inch.

"Well ... yes, but it's what I did that night..."

"Which night?"

"The night I got drunk at the Whisky-a-Go-Go and shouted awful things at your window"

"You did?"

"Yes, it was me and I am so sorry...."

"I never heard anything, what are you talking about?"

Exasperated at my lame words, she turned on her sensible heels and walked away.

FIFTEEN YEARS !

FIFTEEN YEARS of ducking and diving, of hiding my shame, of knowing I had to apologise ..... and the lady had never even heard me ... & I had been shouting at the top my lungs too!

And no, I did not feel that much better, but I certainly did feel such a fool!