SF. Pt.17c. Virgin Gorda.

Columbus named the Virgin Islands after St. Ursula and her 11,000 virgins so the story goes. Or maybe he had his crew in mind. ‘Look men! Land ahoy! Your patience is rewarded. More pussy than you can shake a stick at.’ After more than months at sea the lads were keen to start populating the New World.

One of the islands is named Virgin Gorda (don’t ask where old Christopher got that one). There’s a place there called The Baths. They are big granite rocks with a maze of pools and grottoes. Geologists aren’t sure how the rocks got there. I'm not sure how I got there either but it’s a special place for me. Last time I was here was on my honeymoon.

Now here I am again with my own boat. Sailed over from Tortola, just me and Ning, and I got her sitting on the very same rock where Samantha sat some forty odd years ago. I did it deliberately to see how I would feel. Sort of a test. It was strange seeing Samantha changed into a Thai girl. What you could call a bitter-sweet moment.

I met my first wife, Samantha, in a TV studio back in the Sixties. She was one of the beautiful people. There was her and Chrissie Shrimpton, another beautiful person, and me and Screaming Lord Sutch who were beautiful too but in a different way. It was a panel discussion for Swinging Londoners. “So Swinging Dick. I hear you were in Carnaby Street recently. See anything you fancied?” “Lulu’s new single is out and I hear it’s fab.” and so on. After we all went on the piss and I ended up back at her place in Hampstead.

Lovely wedding. Synagogue in Golders Green. George Best was best man and we had a bunch of Swedish models for bridesmaids. London was crawling with them in those days. Keith Moon was importing them by the case. Rod the Mod showed up pissed and sang Maggie May. David Bailey took some snaps. Looking back I think Sam was going through her footballer phase. She’d done a bunch of pop stars, couple of photographers, and she thought it might be fun to try a footballer.

She liked showing me off to her friends I think. Why was that? Maybe I was more ‘real’ or something. Her very own authentic working-class yob. Look everybody how we’ve broken down the class barriers! Bollocks. We got married for several reasons I think. She was 6 months pregnant was one reason but I think she did it mainly to piss her parents off. They were posh, big house in the country, dogs and horses and all that. I think they were handicapped though. We went to their place after the wedding and I didn’t hear them say a word the whole time I was there. Very quiet people. Somebody did come up with 2 tickets to BVI which was nice. It seems like another lifetime now. I know, I know, nothing worse than listening to blokes going on about their ex-wives.

Anyway that’s enough reminiscing. Ning looked sweet sitting on that exact same rock. It might even have some deep significance.

What happened with Sir Julian? Glad you asked. He showed up on my boat around mid-morning looking not too bad considering. I said, “Morning Julian. Sleep well? Where’s the missus?”
“Lydia went into Road Town. To get her hair done.” Well that won’t do her much good, I thought. Needs a new face to go with it.
“So you’ve got a bit of time to yourself then Julian?”
“Couple of hours I’d say,” says he, looking at his watch. I can hear Ning and Nong giggling in the cabin. So can Julian.
“Come on out girls.” I say, “Mai tawng ai. Don’t be shy. Come and say hallo to Khun Julian.”
Out they pop in their little tank tops and bikini bottoms and give the old goat a wai like I told them.
“Delightful,” he says. “Absolutely delightful.” He still can’t believe his luck.
“I’ll leave you to it then Julian,” I say, “You’ve got a few berths in there to choose from and the cabin door locks from the inside. Make yourself at home.”
“Jolly decent of you Dic...hardly know how to thank you.” he mumbles. “One hesitates to broach the subject of remuneration but...”
“Don’t broach it then mate. Us Bangkok warriors have to stick together.” Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. And that was it. Me and Nyum went for a beer while Sir Julian was getting his oats. I didn’t tell him about the mini-cams but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

If you’ve been following this narrative closely you may be thinking, hang on...didn’t Simon have a girlfriend called Samantha? Her dad had a music magazine right? What’s she doing married to Dick Headley? I admit some confusion could arise. What to do? The easy way out would be to say it’s a different Samantha. Or I could write a long explanation about how she left Simon for Dick. But that can’t be right because Simon had two kids with her. Unless she left Dick and went back to Simon? What a mess. I’ll let you know when I get it sorted.