Colonials, Australians, New Zealanders, South Africans, Rhodesians and Canadians and Americans visited London in their droves during the Sixties. Money was not that easily available and Tourist Guides were expensive. I was able, by word of mouth always to find a couple of girls to accompany me on trips around London.
A short story about London Zoo by Ralpapajan
In 1968 I met a lot of Colonial girls on a working holiday in England. This is the story of one visit I made to London Zoo with two of them.
The Chimpanzee's Tea Party
Or "The time a petite American Lady decided on a Fiendish Plan to get the shirt off my back with the purpose of looking at my tanned, muscular chest that went with my astonishing good looks."
It happened like this:
I had been passed on to a couple of new Girls at my Club in Warwick Road, Earls Court where I lived. I imagine that when the two girls, Aussies, arrived they were each told when they asked how they should see London, "Get hold of Rob. He's safe and cheap." Wink wink, nudge nudge, then in a whisper. "We think he's a homo. no-one could be that devastatingly handsome and never make a pass at beauties such as we are."
That is of course pure speculation, They would probably have said. "Use Rob, he's a 26 year old virgin and is terrified of girls."
Anyway, be that as it may. They approached me and we arranged to go out on the next weekend. "Dress down," I told them, "no money, no jewellery, only cheap cameras and no make up. Look dowdy and we should get away with a night-time visit to that home of sin and debauchery, Soho." There, that should get them excited!
We had a super Saturday and on Sunday it was one of those days that only England can produce. Bright sun that rose at about 04h30, puffy cumulus clouds in a startlingly azure blue sky. The world was a good place to be and even after a late night with too much booze we were all raring to go. The girls cooked breakfast in the communal dining room at No 58, Warwick Road which was in the basement. It amused me to have beautiful women waiting on me and amused me even more when the Male Inmates came in and glowered at me with two girls when they couldn't get one. (You do call Members of a Club Inmates, don't you. Male Members seem to have the wrong connotation and might make the filthy minded females who read this leap to the wrong conclusion.)
We caught a number 74 bus, I think, but got out by the Regent's canal and walked along the tow path. Even the sounds of fish gasping their last in the water and sparrows coughing, and the sight of rusty bicycles in the stagnant water did not detract from the day.
We wandered around the Zoo for that was the aim of the day. London Zoo is one of the World's finest. And the two colonial girls were duly impressed. I will tell you all about Gizelle and Sue in a later Story.
All went well until the Lunch Time tea party of the Chimpanzees. We got there early and, as was my custom I shepherded my two charges to near the fence and stood behind them with my arms loosely corralling them.
Then the Petite American lady, who had been ogling me from afar and had followed us all the way around the Zoo arrived. She was late and she was too small to hold her 3 or 4 year old son up to see the chimps.
But THIS was a part of the Fiendish Plan and I fell for it. I invited her into our tiny circle and she stood at the front. Then to give him a better view I hoisted little Chuck onto my shoulders just as the half hour show began. His little chubby hands gripped my hair and even the toffee that he left behind failed to warn me of impending disaster. I held his chubby little knees and he then gripped my ears.
My heart lurched. Anyway at the time it was apt and my heart started pumping lumpy custard. One day, I thought, I will have a son of my own to hoist onto my shoulders. Of course, I would have to figure out how to lose my virginity first. But still.
After about 10 minutes of sheer excitement and bouncing around with screams of laughter from him my neck got warmer. then much warmer, then hot. Then a cool trickle coursed its way down my neck and chest.
The little fellow had peed his pants. What to do? 20 minutes to go. His Mom turned to look at him fondly and me admiringly. Oh hell! Grin and bear it. So I did.
The Party was over. I lowered him to the ground. His Mom came over to say thank you and saw the dark patch on his red pants and the dark patch on my expensive Burgundy and Gold Golf shirt (Bought at Petticoat Lane for 1/-) .
She was quick I grant you that. She opened her eyes with feigned innocence. "Oh my God, he peed his pants. I am sorry."
That alerted my Aussies and they did what Aussies do best in such circumstances. They Rolled on the Floor Laughing their Asses Off!
Events followed quickly. Watched by the Admiring? Amused? looks of other tourists the three women took my shirt off, all the time laughing like there was no tomorrow and led me to the toilets. "Wash yourself," they commanded. "Leave our presence in that unclean state and come back smelling of roses."
I did as I was commanded and when I went out the Yankee Siren was there with a new shirt and an offer of lunch. And a series of secret and yearning looks at my bronzed bod. (OK, well maybe not the last.)
And that dear Readers was how I came to own a London Zoo Golf Shirt in a pale cream with a green collar.
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