Little Pack Horse.
The is my dog Hovis; he’s no longer a physical manifestation, but i remember him fondly and he was here when this happened, so I’m sharing a photo. We called him Mr Stinker.
Norcap had done it’s thing, I had done my thing and now all there was to do was to meet. Simple; the date was set, the time and the venue. It was 12:30 at the Little Pack Horse pub in Bewdley, a pretty little riverside town in Worcestershire with a keen industrial heritage.
My daughter was spending the day with her friend, she was about 9 I think so we’d be picking her up later on , maybe around 5pm, so everything had to run like clockwork. My son was only small, 5 years younger than my daughter, I think he was out of nappies.
I figured it would be a good idea to get to the pub early, with a paper and look nonchalant, I might be doing the crossword (the Saturday Times does a huge one which I enjoy and don’t think I’ve ever finished) I may be wrestling with the Soduko, I may even be reading the articles thoughtfully twirling my glasses in my mouth as I digested the stories. This was the dream, however it was so far from the truth. Mrs T and my son gave me a lift down to Bewdley, my wife was going to walk him around and take him to the park, I would meet my Biodad, we would all get together and everything would be fine and dandy. Reality was, I did get a paper, Mrs T dropped me in town near the newsagents and I strolled down to the pub, with each step my mind racing, my hands sweating, over clutching and smudging the front pages. My head swirling;
“What a fucking nightmare!!”
This indeed was and I felt really off colour when I reached the pub, I’d smoked some fags too which usually helped back then. The barman who knew me by sight, said when I entered,
“Jesus mate, whats up with you?”
“I’m meeting my Biodad, give me a pint please” (good upbringing you see)
I sat down with my pint and drank it like someone was going to take it away from me. I looked at the paper, it was just lines and lines and the coloured swirled and nothing made any sense, no sense at all. I got myself a second pint, walked back to my paper and sat down, took a sip, heard the door open, saw the door open, saw a man walk into the gloom from the light outside. My eyes were adjusted, his not so, I saw him first, realised he looked like me in 20 years, resigned my self to my fate, stood up and said,
“Hi Mick, should I call you Biodad? What are you drinking?”
That was the first time either of us had clapped eyes on each other in 40 years or so, I’d changed, he’d changed but we both recognised each other immediately without ever having seen a photo of each other ever ever ever! I recognised him and him, me instantaneously. We had a Bio-connection, and it was the first time I’d ever had that. He looked like me, our eyes were the same, our noses, our ears, we had the same mannerisms; which was really strange as having studied Genetics at A-level I assumed that sort of thing was down to Nurture, I have so many mannerisms in common with my Dad its unbelievable. So to sit opposite this future mirror of myself was astonishing, and a real privilege.
We chatted, he bought some photos of me as a child, some photos of my Biomum, some photos of them there without me. It didn’t hurt, but it changed my life totally, there in the bar of a brilliant real ale pub in Bewdley (Don’t try the cocktails though they suck). I discovered he had remarried a wonderful woman who was in the hotel, waiting for him to call. I called Mrs T who had had to leave the park because my son had done a poo in the corner and hadn’t told her until it was too late! So the ladies came to the pub, the Biodad and Bioboy (thats me) chatted and chatted; it was so easy and I was on a high. Later on I heard Biodad had spoken to my sister on the telephone and had cried! I also spoke to my sister and my brother on the phone, the was weird, and brilliant and we arranged to meet the following day.
This is for another day, but the little pack horse in Bewdley was the unassuming place my life changed, again, for ever. I think our life changes forever everyday, but some days our lives change forever a little bit more; that day was one of those.
See you for M