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I got my annual Crimbo card from an old French pal today, with his usual sign-off: 'Vive le Vieille Alliance'.
Aged 18, and working on the beaches, selling drinks and donuts, in the South of France, I stood on a nail. I was drunk, and laughed it off. Three days later I had blood poisoning - and a leg turning green.
My mates, literally, carried me to a doctor, who gave me a series of 13 injections, most in the back of my neck, which were effing sore (to stop me getting lockjaw).
Even though I had an e111 card, I had to phone my mum for more money.
Even though I had an e111 card, I had to phone my mum for more money.
On my last visit, Dr Phillipe handed me a bill for 140 Francs (I couldn't afford that) then tore it up in front of my eyes, and said 'thank you, my friend'.
I was nonplussed, and then he took a picture off the shelf, of he and his wife at the Spean Bridge Commando monument.
I was nonplussed, and then he took a picture off the shelf, of he and his wife at the Spean Bridge Commando monument.
His father, the local village GP, had trained with the Free French at Spean Bridge, and was parachuted back into the France three days before the US invasion.
Betrayed, he was shot by a Nazi firing squad, 24-hours before help arrived.
Betrayed, he was shot by a Nazi firing squad, 24-hours before help arrived.
When I asked him how he could remain there, his reply: "I know the traitors, I treat them, I am my father's son, I am a doctor."
Now in his nineties, he is my oldest European friend, and ami.
Brexit be damned - I ken/connais who my pals are...
Brexit be damned - I ken/connais who my pals are...
Where it happened - Bonporteau Plage, outside Cavalaire-sur-Mer, one of my favourite beaches in the whole Med - just 14km, but a world away from St Tropez.
One year, there were 24 of us, all pals from the Rock Garden, working these beaches.
One year, there were 24 of us, all pals from the Rock Garden, working these beaches.
Did I forget to add the pic?
Imagine that beach, at night, with a fire, guitars, girls, and a babble of European voices.
Don't think I crawled into my tent sober/straight/alone for three months.
Imagine that beach, at night, with a fire, guitars, girls, and a babble of European voices.
Don't think I crawled into my tent sober/straight/alone for three months.
One of our friends on the campsite was a young French Algerian, from Paris, who - sick of the racism - was on the run from his national service.
He could roll a cone of green Lebanese you wouldn't believe, and became hooked on my stovies.
When a Frenchman cleans his plate...
He could roll a cone of green Lebanese you wouldn't believe, and became hooked on my stovies.
When a Frenchman cleans his plate...
The last year we were all there, I fell heavily for a posh girl from Sheffield (such creatures exist), and did filthy things with her, in a deflating inflatable tent.
She said she was 20.
We wrote to each other (filthy letters!) and, the next year, I took the bus down to visit her, and she met me in her school uniform - she was 17!
That was fun around her parents' breakfast table...
We wrote to each other (filthy letters!) and, the next year, I took the bus down to visit her, and she met me in her school uniform - she was 17!
That was fun around her parents' breakfast table...
She was a smart cookie, and went to Oxford, where she fell in with Stewart Lee, Richard Herring, and Emma Kennedy to become one of the Seven Raymonds (there were only ever five of them).
She later dropped out, and much to my surprise, arrived at Glasgow Uni. She stayed at my mum's for a few nights (much fumbling) then moved into halls, up in Park Circus.
The last time we saw each other, over 30 years ago, she left me outside the halls, and said, if I loved her, I would have to climb in' - which I did; scaling scaffolding to enter the ladies' halls. Much drink had been taken.
Where Jo is now, who knows; but I hope she remembers me as fondly as I remember her.
All that - WWII, Brexit, young love - from a bloody Christmas card.
Go to your beds...
Go to your beds...
Said cone/tulip joint - boom, boom - out go the lights...
