The Summer of '93

York and the Golden Fleece

We were really into each other. I had no doubts.

I decided to bring him home to meet my parents. It was a big step and both of us were nervous about the occasion. It's very rare that I had brought people home for my parents to meet as my Mum took pleasure in telling me all the negatives and never really held back on what she thought, whether it was justified or not in its foundation.

Ali was very charming with my Mum on the phone but obviously nervous and consequently he spoke very quickly. Mum couldn't understand what he was saying, she just nodded and smiled at him. 

Dad's was a similarly uneventful meeting. After all Dad hadn't really been a Father to me so we sat, drank tea, ate biscuits and caught up on each other's lives. Ali was very quiet but watched my Father intently.

As we drove back to Mum's where we were staying he commented,

"He's not much of a Father to you is he?"

"What makes you think that?" I replied. I was curious as to what his thoughts were.

"He wasn't really interested in me."

"I wouldn't say that." I replied. "He's just easy going. Dad's never really given me a strong opinion on what I do with my life. He just lets me get on with it."

This troubled Ali. 

"So your next leave?" I asked.

"Yep!"

"I've got holiday left to take before the end of the year, and you're back for Christmas?"

"Yep!"

"I was thinking we could look for a last minute bargain and have a week abroad, what do you think?" I glanced over at him to see what his reaction might be.

"It would have to be cheap!" He proclaimed.

"Yep, for me too."

"Where were you thinking?" I knew I had piqued his interest.

"I was thinking somewhere warm, like Northern Africa."

"It's doable." He said. I smiled.

I had arranged for us to stay the night in York. I booked 'The Golden Fleece'. It had four poster beds. Parking was always a problem. We parked out of town and walked. I only had an overnight bag. The Inn was nestled between two Tudor buildings, I had passed by it many times and I liked the golden sheep that draped outside, held by a harness wrapped around its waist. The thought of it made me happy because it was in the heart of York itself, had Theakstons on tap and other real ales. I could relax and have a drink, Ali would be happy and could just fall into bed.

I could see Ali approved of it as a B&B for the night. We were shown up to our room. The bed was very Tudor in style and it had a tapestry pelmet. There was a plush wood frame seat at the bed end. The room's focal point was a dark, heavy fireplace. Ali whisked me off my feet and threw me onto the bed. "I'll deal with you appropriately later my lady!" Ali joked. I laughed as I rolled across the mattress.

"I should have on one of long flowing cone hats with chiffon and a bodice with laces to untie or something, so I can say 'I am undone!' Are you hungry?" I asked, expecting a yes.

"Is the Pope a Catholic?" he laughed.

The stair creaked as any old Tudor property should, as we came down to the bar for a drink. 

 I searched for a table whilst Ali, feeling at home stood at the bar, trying to catch the eye of someone to serve him. More beermats were scattered on the table for Ali to play with. Ali dropped two soggy bottomed glasses onto each beermat that I steered across in his direction. Two menus also dropped to the table. Ali shuffled his chair into the table's direction, once he had filled it.  There wasn't much for a vegetarian on the menu.