CHAPTER ONE
November 1968
In the US presidential election Republican challenger Richard Nixon defeated the Democratic candidate Vice President Hubert Humphrey, and American Independent Party candidate George C Wallace. The Beatles released their self titled album, popularly known as The White Album. In the third series of Star Trek, the first ever interracial kiss was aired on US national television between Captain James T Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura, and I embarked on my planned trip to The Netherlands.
When the taxi arrived to take me to the airport, I didn’t have the faintest idea what awaited me in Amsterdam. Godfrey Dale sat comfortably in the back seat of the taxi. Although younger than I, he was also my boss by virtue of a university degree. He was reputed to be an electronics boffin, although I’d yet to see any proof of that claim.
Godfrey was in excess of six feet tall, very slim, with a sharp bird like face. His hair, which grew over his collar, was wild and red, and receding significantly at the temples. Godfrey spent most of the working day in his office, with the door firmly closed against intruders. He drank copious amounts of black coffee, and had amassed a huge collection of polystyrene coffee cups, which were stacked in huge towers around his office making it almost impossible to enter.
I couldn’t see the fascination of collecting coffee cups, but apparently they carried different batch numbers, which made his hobby rather like collecting train numbers, which I found equally mystifying.
“Good morning Ray,” called out Godfrey from the back of the cab.
“Good morning God,” I replied, a little less cheerily, as I couldn’t, with the best will in the world, be described as a morning person.
I’d begun calling him God behind his back, and admittedly in malice; as I’d been promised the job as head of the department, before Godfrey arrived unexpectedly and took up the post. This had resulted in some unhelpful behaviour on my part I’m ashamed to say.
As we became more familiar with each other’s strengths and weaknesses, I realised that Godfrey had few, if any, management skills, and was happy to hide away in his office, with his precious coffee cup collection, while I continued to run the department as before. Realising that Godfrey relied upon me, and was unable to confront me, I soon began to call him God to his face, and Godfrey seemed happy to accept the promotion.
To mark the occasion of our trip, I’d dressed in my best blue suit, purchased directly from the retailers shop window, while wearing my brand new overcoat in an attempt to look businesslike. I was what they termed, in the trade, a stock size, the outfitter explaining that my measurements exactly matched those of the shop window dummies. Convinced that they were of a superior quality, and fitted me better than a made to measure suit, I would regularly ask if any of the demonstration suits were for sale, which they often were, as material runs came to an end and the sample suits became redundant.
Godfrey had made no such concessions to the trip. He wore his everyday grey flannels, blue blazer, and camel coloured duffle coat with peg buttons, finished off with his university scarf, which he wore with pride as a badge of his academic achievement.
I had little in common with Godfrey, and the initial flurry of excited conversation quickly dried up. I tried all of the subjects on which I felt knowledgeable, music, television programs, books, history, news, and even politics, of which I knew precious little, but Godfrey was not what you might call a man of the world, and had little knowledge on any of my chosen subjects.
“What do you do in your free time?” I asked him, frustrated by his lack of enthusiasm on any of my proffered subjects for conversation.
“I like to drive my Land Rover onto the moor with my girlfriend.”
Finally we had something in common, but Godfrey, being Godfrey, just had to go and ruin the moment. “To receive and transmit radio signals.”
I was surprised to hear that Godfrey had a girlfriend, but it was of no surprise to discover that she shared his passion for radio signals. I wasn’t averse to taking girlfriends onto the moor, but not to transmit and receive radio signals.
By the time we reached the airport we were sitting in total silence. I wondered what on earth we would talk about until Wednesday, the day when Godfrey was scheduled to return to England.
I was excited about the flight. As a child I’d flown on family holidays to the Isle of Man, in transport planes like the Dakota, and the Bristol Wayfarer, converted, by the addition of seats, to become passenger aircraft in the aftermath of World War 11.
On this occasion I was flying, for the first time, on a jet aircraft, something which had been an ambition of mine since BOAC introduced their Comet in the early nineteen-fifties.
Manchester’s airport couldn’t have been more different from the Squires Gate airport of my childhood, which as memory served me consisted of a single story prefabricated building, akin to the ones I’d seen in films, where fighter pilots scrambled from battered old armchairs during the war years.
This airport was of ultra modern design, built in concrete and steel, and of enormous proportions, with huge chandeliers of droplet shaped glass cascading from the ceiling in the departure lounge.
Godfrey and I became separated on the aeroplane, as Godfrey was graded by our employer as senior staff. This entitled him to travel business class, while I travelled economy as my reduced status dictated.
I sat next to a boy of perhaps eight or nine years of age, who although travelling with his mother, shared my enthusiasm for flying, and insisted on holding my hand as the plane took off for Amsterdam.
