The Worst Day Of My Life (1)
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Be assured that this is by no
means the worst day of my life
but it's probably the worst
swinging day. The seeds were sown some two
months before while my wife, Kate, and I
were holidaying in a lovely coastal village in
Spain. In fact, it was so lovely that we decided
to extend our stay for three days. Had we not
done so, we would not have met Alan and
Julia. But we did. It's all about causality;
'If a butterfly flaps its' wings in New York,
the weather changes in Beijing' - and so on.
Anyway, we did meet Alan and Julia that
evening, in a bar.We got on well with them,
so we went on to a restaurant together.
Kate and I are soft swingers.We're both in our
late thirties and indulge in play maybe only
ten times a year - usually with couples that
we've known for a long time.
However, it became clear over dinner
that Alan and Julia were of a like mind.
Nothing happened that night, but we invited
them over to our villa for dinner the next
evening and after enough local hooch for
relaxation, it all kicked off.We then had a
wonderful two days. Kate and Julia, both
being bi, spent a lot of time together, and
Alan and I, in between playing tennis, had
great fun with both ladies.
Back in London...
Holiday sadly over, Alan and Julia came to
stay with us in north London for a night
a couple of weeks later and we arranged to go to them in a month
or so. By this time, we had
become really good friends.
Not only was the sex great,
but so was their company and we had much
They lived in Streatham, so, we drove on
a rare excursion south of the river - it would
be worth it.We got to their house around
lunchtime and after a terrific hour-long
'making up for lost time' session, we retired
to the garden and drank Pimms as Alan got
the barbecue going.
It was then that Alan revealed that, they
hoped we didn't mind, but they'd invited one
of their 'regular' couples around that evening
for a six-some, as their friends were feeling a
bit low at the moment and needed cheering
up.We said there was no problem and were
really looking forward to it.
All down hill from here
At seven, Mark and Kathy arrived. Again,
similar people to us I thought, as I stood and
shook hands. I was surprised when Kate,
not one to use foul language, other than in
certain circumstances, let out a scream of
'Oh fucking shit. Hell no!'
It transpired that Mark was, in Kate's
words, 'the useless tosser' that she had fired
from her company the week before, and who
was taking her to a tribunal for wrongful
dismissal. Mark, by now, had started shouting
threats and obscenities and Kathy was crying
and throwing tomatoes at Kate.
Needless to say, we left. Had to leave the
car, of course, as we had been expecting to
stay overnight and had drunk a gallon or two
of Pimms each.
Bad to worse
Next morning, I returned to Streatham to pick
up the car. I called in to see Alan and Julia just
to see if they were OK. It seems that things
had only got worse after we left, and they
ended the evening alone.
Alan and Julia were philosophical about
events and I left saying 'We'll call you'.
I got to my car, which I'd had to leave
two roads away. It had been broken into and
over twenty CDs, along with the player, had
been nicked. Also, in the initial excitement of
arriving the day before, I had not noticed the
Controlled Parking Zone signs and the car was
clamped. Two hours, and eighty quid later,
I was driving north vowing never to cross the
The fourth emergency service
Haverstock Hill in Hampstead is not the best
place to have to change a tyre. But that is
what I then had to attempt having heard a
big bang and the steering going wobbly.
Caused, almost certainly by wheel-clamp
damage, I'd had a blow-out. The spare was
also flat! A wonderful AA man arrived within
the hour, pumped up the spare, changed the
wheel and was well worth the twenty quid tip
as it was Sunday evening by now.
Parking up outside of our house, my foot
slipped from the brake and I lurched into the
car behind. There was very little damage to
the other vehicle. Just a broken headlight and
scraped bumper. I would have
ignored it and re-parked
somewhere further down the road - had it not been Kate's car
that I'd hit.
At least I'd got home. It was only after
my Yale key had broken in the lock and an
emergency locksmith had come and sorted it
for a mere £220 plus VAT ('It is Sunday
evening, you, know, mate.') that I could relax
with a humungous G&T and break into
Sadly, or, maybe, luckily, that was the end
of Alan and Julia.We spoke on the phone a
couple of times but Mark was Alan's best
friend from university and they went back
nearly twenty years.
As a postscript, this happened more than
two years ago. Mark lost his tribunal case and
Kate and I have moved on to even better
associations. However, Alan and Julia were
special and it's a shame we won't see them
again. But, we certainly enjoyed some great
times with them.
If there is a moral to
be drawn from this
account, then it is;
'There are a lot of