NO ONE LIKE ME

New begginings

Somewhere along the way I seem to have lost Eric, alias stanny, alias The Dork. Actually he was still around. On his marriage he settled in St. Anne's, and he had taught at the Ice Drome until the outbreak of war. He had been eager to join the navy, being a great lover of the sea, and having built a tiny sailing canoe which he gaily navigated around the treacherous Ribble estuary. Extremely bad eye- sight precluded him from entering any of the forces, however, so he joined the mob at Vickers, contributing unspectacularly to victory by sorting endless nuts, bolts, and screws. Eventually, when he could do a man - sized job, and be among the wild Lakeland mountains which he loved.

Of course I didn't know all this then. The only gossip that reached my ears was that stanny's marriage was not entirely successful. I knew little about him, and cared far less. Periodically he called into the rink, still looking aloof, settled, collar -and- tie - workerish, suburban, and alot of other things that I couldn't stand.

Meanwhile the Yanks had arrived!

During the opening number of one show our eyes nearly fell out at the sight of a complete block of a hundred or more U.S.A.A.F. offices in front. At the end of the performance they invited the entire company out to Warton where a colossal camp, incorporating dance halls, elaborate bars, P.X.stores, and gardens was fast being erected. There we were presented with flowers and chocolates and we talked and drank and danced until 4 a. m., when they brought us all home again in jeeps, feeling that Ali Baba's cave had opened up for us.

And that was only the beginning of an unreal spell of slightly hysterical gaiety, such as only war could bring.

Of course, we didn't run around only with Yanks. The R.A.F. boys, from A.C. 'plonks' to pilots, all shared the favours which were conceited creatures so patronizingly doled out, also the polish airmen, and British Army bods.

And we show girls of those unnatural days had our rigid moral code, which we stuck to through thick and thin, soldier and sailor. No matter how sophisticated or daring we were, virtue had to be retained at all costs. No yellow golliwogs for us. We were an extremely smug, self -righteous lot.

At last I stopped acting like a cross between a night - club hostess and a film star and fell in love. Unfortunately I landed very awkwardly. But still the only part of my anatomy damaged was my heart. And I lost a large chunk of that.

The war ended.

I tried very hard to be happy that day. I was glad , I was relieved. But I could not be happy. I tried to imagine life without the Yanks. Or what I really meant was without that one Yank. While he was there, even if he never came near me. . . well, you know the improbable, silly sort of scenes of reconciliation which a hopeless romantic like me could conjure up àd nauseam.

But soon he would no longer be there.

People had at last stopped butchering one another, and I ought to feel happy. But I couldn't. It was a most unpleasant experience.

As though a plug had been pulled out of a sink the Yanks, the Royal Air Force, the Poles, the evacuees, the Civil servants poured out of Blackpool, leaving a forlorn, deserted, bewildered, strangely quiet shell.

Then our own Lancashire lads started coming home, and it all began to make sense. little parties of us would scrounge around for petrol coupons, borrow a car, and go bowling up to the lake District.

"You can keep foreign parts," they would say, grazing across Thirlmere, or up to the majesty of the Langdale Pikes. " This is what I've been thinking of, longing for, all the time I was out there. You'll not see better anywhere, I'll tell you.' And I , too, began to realize that I had been missing quite a lot in the dance halls, and bars, and stuffy cinemas.

Eric, unable to resist the siren song of the skating blade, left his trees and mountains to rejoin the instructional staff at the Ice Drome. He brought with him an enthusiasm for the art which was infectious, and, instead of spending my spare time gossiping in the milk bar, I found myself practicing on the ice with him,all my earlier Zest renewed. We danced, we pair- skated,we practice acrobatic lifts and spins which neither of us had thought of attempting before.And we found a new and absorbing interest in working together which took our minds of gloomy personal thoughts ( Of which we both had plenty)

So after ten years of exchanging bleak nods and a few un enthusiastic words, Eric and I suddenly got to know each other completely without any particular effort.

The result was a pleasant surprise on both sides.

The clue to Eric's personality is hidden by the unpretentiously plain spectacles which implacably distort his grey Dreamer's eyes. With the glasses removed his unfocused eyes have the touching appeal of a newborn babies and you discovered the dreams that lie within them.

Notice too the pleasing gentleness of his features, the stirring sensitivity of the mouth, defended by the strong, square chin. And for good measure he has the kind of body find you find perpetuated in the louvre .

Eric was the most imaginative and conventional person ,I had never ever met.

He wanted to do all the improbable things like sailing to the South, seas, climbing the Himalayas,living on a desert island, hiking across the world. Things which I could never have thought of wanting to do but, which sounded most attractive now that they were put into my mind.

I need several lifetime to do everything. "I would like to do that" he could grumble but right then he wanted to be a skating instructor so that was what he was.

He also wanted to get over the last of several rather weary and fruitless Adventures with I'amour.

I was surprised to hear that my past defaults to appear bless sophisticated cynical and a lot of other useless things, had been only too successful.

The resulting impression so Eric enlightened me, was that of a zealous yellow metal excavator with a leather purse for a heart, the morals of a monkey, and values as false as national health teeth.

Which, I realized on reflection, could have accounted for the escape of the the 'One That Got Away'

Eric does like people to be nice, and the discovery that I was not just as bad as all that gave him real pleasure. So there we were.Both desirous of affecting some sort of running repairs to those vital and atomical parts which are depicted in satin and silver on Valentine cards. Both sure with the earnest conviction of those crossed in love, that we would never be the same again. Both delighting in submerging ourselves grimy and dramatically in our work. A perfect set up for a rebound job.

Actually I don't think we were grim or dramatic about our work for long. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves during that winter practicing with energetic eagerness.

True adagio, incorporating full arm- high lifts it never been attempted on British ice hitherto ,and we now ventured to execute some of these Manoeuvres on skates, first learning them on The Kindly, soft- landing mat of the sand- dunes. Judging by the compliments which we constantly received the results were quite impressive. Tantalizing thoughts of Stardom again entered my head. While my physical limitations precluded me from making anything as a solo skater, this new style of Performing was something I felt confident that I -that we could do. Already I thought in plural instead of singular terms.

meanwhile Eric was opening my ignorant eyes to the fact that there were other things in the world besides skating.He began to lend me books- on astronomy, science, natural history. I even struggled through Darwin's original of species, and a 'simplified' explanation of Einstein's Theory of Relativity. which left me with just a glimpse, if immensely confused,of wonderful fact and possibilities.

Then came travel books, to draw back the cutting on a world of different shores, sees,Forest,mountains and strange people and sailing books of course, packed with High Adventure.Eric spent most of his spare time making another sailing boat for one of the instructors.I loved watching them both whittling away, the pungent scent of clean wood about them, and the graceful little craft taking shape.

it was Eric of course who showed me those sunsets on the beach, as he walked back to the Rink ,tired but happy from our acrobatic sessions on the sands. And as the spring came along we began collecting and classifying wild flowers of which there was a glorious profession on the Dunes. Hearts-ease of several varieties were most abundant, many of the trefoils ,evening primrose stood high at the slightest provocation, grass of parnassus shone pure and wax-like in every damp mossy hollow, and the delicate perfume of rest- harrow constantly mingled with the clean tang of the sea.We found One hundred and fifty different varieties of wild flowers on the Dunes between squares gate and St Anne's.

Our adag you up to addition in much 1946 by Mr Thompson and this producer miss Bina muscle and your offered contracts aspares getting principles in the coming Blackpool summer show you are very happy at least at last they are seemed to be a future for both of us one which we could not only bear to contemplate but which we could actually dare to believe we will enjoy we felt very close to each other it was Easter Monday I had done my best dress and I stubborn it making my way across the dimly lit ice drumstances behind the tabs I walked smoke into Eric there is something cozy about a deserted state and through the dusty mellow a flight his two looking down at me I had seen that kind of look before but I had not expected to see it again or on Eric it's suited him god that has his silly that heart is silly said there are lots of ways of saying I love you I knew suddenly what you meant it did not really alter our relationship except to improve it we had both considered ourselves Lost Souls anyways married with every indication of remaining that way of that way for life I hate this sidedly been the losing my first experience with great romance and at that stage had no intention of quite getting over it. our partnership and the future possibilities resulting from it was the most important thing each other a little as well so much the better cautiously we climbed up onto that little pink cloud again and found it surprisingly comfortable our act prove to be successful and we made quite a reputation for ourselves as the first skaters in the country to put a dad joke onto ice with the post who shortage of skaters under seat no in Flux from other countries we hate the fields to ourselves we had the Tom andalus planning to start again and we knew that if we could show him who act we would be on our way up that well One land we practice whenever we could be between the shows and our teaching duties that summer okay one more advanced lifts and spins which we failed we'll soon improve our already successful out to beyond recognition.

Further rumours circulated.Tom Arnold was coming to see Ice Parade of ¹⁹⁴⁶ to pick up artistes for a new tour of 'number one theatres ' which was to go out that winter.

"We must try to get some of our new stuff into the act before he comes," I said excitedly to Eric. "We must work even harder. "It's worth it"

Then suddenly Eric seemed to lose his enthusiasm.

He became less and less inclined to practice, and would often suggest that we walked along the shore, or went for a swim instead.

"we hardly get any fresh air these days," he would say.

"well, we'll practice on the beach..."

"No, No- not today. I feel like doing something different for a change."

Of course, I said all the expected things to him and some extra, especially when he suggested cutting out the more advanced lifts during matinées. Giving less value because an afternoon audience was not as good as an evening one was right against my principles, and I was very dissapointed in Eric. It just didn't seem to fit in with all that I now knew of him.

"It would serve you right if Tom Arnold came to a matinée and saw us doing only half our number," I flared. "Except that I would lose out too."

So we kept the act in full for matinées as well.

It was September. The show had only three more weeks to run, and the rumours about future skating opportunities were running wildly amok when Eric finally sent 'Cinderella' back into her rags for the second time.

His face, so inscrutable most of the time, can occasionally be almost too expensive, and so I knew it was going to be something that I did not want to hear before he started.

I'm sorry, because I know how much this act means to you," he told me quietly. " I have to pack up doing lifts. I have a hernia. I'm going into hospital for an operation next week."

"An operation!" I suddenly felt a bit sick. "Is it - a serious one?"

"Oh no. I shouldn't be in very long time afterwards - perhaps a year."

"And I made you work - like that. Why didn't you tell me before!

it's my fault."

He said it wasn't, of course, and tried to tell me how sorry he was that Tom Arnold would not see our act.

"You see," he said, it doesn't mean quite so much to me . I have so many other interests in life. You only have skating."

The day came and went, and he was alright. And I was relieved and therefore happy again, for that was the most important thing. But I did feel a bit sorry for myself the night that Tom Arnold finally materialized, and Eric was still lying in hospital, and I was standing at the side of the rink looking on, when we should have been beneath the lights evoking the solid spontaneous applause which we had come to take for granted during the early part of that summer.

And I won't even attempt to describe how I felt when all the other principals in the company received contracts which were among the most attractive offered in the skating world before or since.

If I believed in jinxes I would have said that we collected one round about the time of Eric's injury, but of course I don't.

After Eric's operation we decided to stick together in spite of the interval which must elapse before he would be fit to tackle adagio again.

A large proportion of our teaching revenue at the Ice Drome during the war had been derived from the floating population of forces, holiday - makers, Civil servants, evacuees , etc. Naturally with the post - war exodus, and the period of change and rehabilitation which followed, our business suffered.

The war- time Black pool had gone. The pre- war Black pool might never return. We were wallowing in the post- war doldrums,and were also (as a result of those books) both feeling the first symptoms of that chronic complaint, wanderlust. Any new scene must be a good scene.

We felt that if we could go to a Rink which employed only or two instructors ( Black pool had six, and some times as many as nine)by having the monopoly of the business we could build up a good clientele.

Accordingly Eric and I obtained positions as instructors at Ayr Ice Rink, Eric undertaking the additional duties of floor manager.

My mother had always to live in Scotland, sentiment connected with my father being not the least of her reasons, and , I suspect, a vague vain hope that she might even come across him in his native land. And the Scottish lady during the week.

We saw much that was beautiful in Ayrshire. The dramatic cliffs rising from clean, sandy beaches where blue geraniums, early purple orchid, fragile scilla, and great clumps of primrose grew in glorious plenty. Where one could watch the gannets plummet into the sea for their supper, and the cormorants appearing and dissapearing like tiny submarines, and the seals , fat and shiny, basking smugly upon the large rocks.

We made some of our staunchest friends in Ayr. George Duke, the handsome manager of the Ayr Ice Rink, was always a friend rather than a manager to us.

Our first glimpse inside the actual rink afforded us a surprise. We had heard that in all Scottish rinks the traditional game of curling was popular, but were unprepared to discover that it monopolized two- thirds of the ice - pad almost all the time, leaving only a small section, reffered to as ' end ice,' for skating. Since the larger part of the rink revenue is derived from the 'roaring game ' the skaters have no choice but to be thankful for their rather meager frosted allowance.

To qualify for entrance into the curling fraternity one must, so it appears, be Scottish, male, elderly, affluent, and preferably round of paunch and red of face.

Curlers, I must emphasize, are quite normal outside the game. It is not until they get their little brooms in their hands and their rubber - clad feet on to the frozen field, that they begin to suffer breaks with reality.In the course of this curious game a large granite stone is sent spinning down the ice- track, often closely followed by the thrower, sliding on that useful paunch.For the dedicated sports man is utterly abandoned in his efforts to archive a satisfactory heave.

To sweep or not to sweep? of sweeping is indicated, the players will give instructions to that effect in no uncertain terms. To simplify the call for broom- work the word 'sweep' has been corrupted to ' soop'. The spectacles of these gentlemen leaping frenziedly up and down , flailing dangerously expressive arms, and bellowing: ''soop! soop'! har- r-r-rd! Soop! soo-oo-oop!" would be quiet sufficient to send any inquisitive alien from outer space straight back into his saucer.

Occasionally a few fair Isle-and tartan- clad females are tolerated in the game, and their piping voices provide a pathetic, ludicrous descant to the roar of the male majority.

The inspired 'soopers' are also well worth watching as, spraying perspiration from their honest brows, they achieve an incredible crab- like progression in the path of the oncoming hunk of granite, while polishing the track furiously with their little brooms.I have no doubt their wives would be very pleased to see them working only half as diligently on the floors at home.

In spite of the limited ice surface we settled down happily to instructing at Ayr Ice Rink. Eric's hernia healed more quickly than we had hopped and in six months he was fit to practice lifts again.

Meanwhile American stars, with skates clanging over their shoulders, vitamins bursting out of every pore, vitality blissfully ignorant of the ration book, and glamour u harassed by long years of austerity, came pouring off the gangways of Atlantic liners to appear in British shows. They, too, were doing real adagio on ice, and the standard they set was one which we realized would take some catching up with. But I was determined that we should not only overtake but pass them.

This time it was I who cracked up.

The vulnerability about which the medical examiner had warned me at the beginning of the war did not allow for hard work and ambition. First I contracted several months, leaving my breathing so un reliable that after more than a couple of sedate waltzes I could give a convincing imitation of a 'warming up' session on the bagpipes. But I had not done my lot yet, and had to round the whole thing off with what is loosely described as a ' nervous breakdown '.

Anyone with average intelligence can have one of these extra - ordinary affairs, and those who have will know how devastating, and extremely unfunny, they are. Those who have not could never understand, and I don't want to make them.

The effort would do neither side any good. Such memories are best left tidily in the locked file which the mimd conveniently supplies in good time.