Friends in Funny Places

 

Whether that is the right title for this piece, but I need to write down the story of last night, as it might be significant in my new life at the age of 60. I would hope to put it in my book on my travels.

Twice in my life, I've been alone in a city, perhaps feeling down, lonely and perhaps a little depressed and something extraordinarily positive has happened to lift my spirits. I should say that mild depression often goes with being a coeliac and especially if you are undiagnosed.

The first time, I was in a hotel in Baltimore. It was probably in about 1975 and I'd perhaps had a bit too much too drink and was getting a bit Bolshi. I couldn't have been that bad though, as I remembered the tale and especially the bit about a lady from that city who called herself a Baltimoron. Her words not mine. This American was going on about how they had won the Second World War and if there's anything that gets my goat it's that, as I can be a bit of a patriot, but I'm much more of a seeker after the truth. We didn't win it alone, but the war was won on a collective effort, where a large number of countries, races and creeds all played their part.

My premise was that the war was effectively won by the Battle of Britain. Does anybody other than me remember the French documentary on that battle, made perhaps for the 25th anniversary in 1965, where the French said we were selfish to call it that? They believed it should have been called the Battle of Europe, as if the RAF and their allies had lost, then everything would have been over for the continent.

So by winning the Battle of Britain, we held the line long enough for Hitler to make his mistake of attacking Russia and for the Japanese to bring America into the war at Pearl Harbor.

My father, who had been some sort of advisor to Beaverbrook in the War, had also told me that if we'd lost then the Americans would have washed their hands of Britain.

It was a forlorn argument against four or five Americans and I wasn't doing well, although I can usually keep my end up in that sort of contest.

And then there was the dramatic intervention, by an elderly man at the end of the bar. He looked very much like Colonel Sanders, with the certain sort of bearing that senior officers in the armed services often have. (They also clean their shoes better, than us riff-raff!) He introduced himself as a man, who had worked with Roosevelte before and in the early years of the war.

He just said that the Englishman is right and wished us all a good night.

I slept well and from that day on a lonely trip turned into a very happy one.

Now last night, I was cold, but thankfully not wet, and missing Celia terribly as I walked the streets. I was however looking forward to dinner in a fish restaurant by the Rialto Bridge. As I write this I've forgotten the name, but it was small with perhaps ten tables and lots of pictures of the owner, his father and grandfather on the walls. You know the type of restaurant.

As I sat down to drink a complimentary glass of prosecco, the familiar tones of John Lennon's harmonica quietly filled the room. It was Love Me Do. I thought for a moment, perhaps shed a small tear and then smiled. One by one the tunes came through.

They knew I was a celiachai and I had carpaccio or Saint Pietro followed by some exquisite tuna. The waitress, asked if I was OK with the music after I had told her the story seeing the Beatles in 1964 at Hammersmith, meeting Celia in Liverpool in 1968 and her death a few months ago. I said yes and more songs followed.

Included was We Can Work It Out and it may sound trite, but I must.

Perhaps about ten, I'd finished the meal and was expecting to go, but somehow I got invited by the waitress and her friends from University to talk and share a few drinks.

I shall always be grateful to those four students, as we talked through the problems of the world and tried to put things to rights. I'm too old to have much effect now, but they just might.

Just like I smile when I think of Baltimore, I shall now always remember those students in that restaurant in Venice.