Mimi didn't play guitar, but she had one hell of a built-in guitar rack! (See photo in my previous entry.)

Mimi was/is a traditional Sicilian/Italian girl...which meant she lived at home until she got married, cooked during the day and made love all night. Wonder why the Italians are so damned happy all the time? Wine, women, song, AND food! GOOD food!

Mimi lived about 5 minute's walk from my house, but as I was more than twice her age, her mum was NOT at all amused about her seeing me--understandable, of course. So Mimi had to be very circumspect when she came over---parking the car around the corner, coming up with a story of where she was supposed to be, etc. Like being in high school. One time she arranged to stay over...but Mum did a little detective work and had figured out by morning that Mimi had to have been with me. About 9 am on a Saturday morning, there was an almighty yelling outside: "MI-MIIIIIIIIIII !!!!!!" It was her mum standing in my driveway and shouting at the top of her voice.

Mimi ducked under the covers and quaked, urging me to do the same and NOT to look out the window. The waterbed was rippling with her shaking and squeaking of imminent doom. We then heard some scrabbling around on my front porch, then the car door slammed and Mum drove off. Mimi cautiously peeked out from under the duvet, her eyes wide as saucers. "Is she gone?" she
whispered. "Yes, she's gone," I said. Mimi let out a sigh and flopped on the pillow, no doubt thinking of what was to come when she finally got home. It wasn't going to be pretty. There would certainly be lots of Italian mother-daughter shouting and maybe a few breakages around the house. Remember "Moonstruck"? Right on the money.

I went downstairs to see what all the scrabbling noise was about on my front porch. I opened the door, and there on the tiles were the remains of my beautiful hanging plant scattered all over the porch! Italians! I laughed and called Mimi downstairs. She peeked around the door and her hand flew to her mouth and she looked at me in horror...then we both burst out laughing.

One beautiful day, Mimi, my son Alex, and I rented a small boat and cruised up through the locks on the Thames towards Runnymead from Walton-on-Thames, where we lived. As we cruised up the river with all the other BIG boats, everyone was happy and smiling because of the rare sunny weather, and at each lock everyone would toss a beer up to the lock keeper...how those guys managed to stand up all day is beyond me...they had constitutions of steel! Or huge wooden legs.

As luck would have it, our little boat was first in the queue in one of the locks coming back, with all manner of boats stacking up in the lock behind us. Mimi was driving. She got the little boat tucked nicely into left wall right at the gate. I got out and held the mooring line. Alex fancied an ice cream from the little ice cream van parked by the lock keeper's hut and dashed up the verge to get one for Mimi and himself, then slipped back down, jumped off the lock wall into the boat and handed Mimi hers.

Just then, the lock gate began to open and Mimi hit the throttle, still holding her ice cream in the other hand, whilst trying to grab the wheel....the boat just shuddered hopelessly against the wall embarrassingly because the wheel was hard a' port, whilst all the other big boats behind her were revving up. Mimi panicked, threw the wheel hard a' starboard, swinging her ice cream cone in an arc across the windshield in the process, making a hilarious ice cream arc on the glass which cracked Alex and I up, and the little boat darted across the lock and banged into the opposite wall, spun around to point her right at all boats that were behind her now facing her and closing FAST, causing all the boats to slam on the anchors as Mimi desperately tried to rectify the situation which was rapidly getting seriously out of hand, whilst Alex and I were pissing ourselves laughing at Mimi's panicked predicament! Then she started to laugh, losing it completelyand the whole shambolic charade fell apart, and all the people in the boats were in fits of laughter, the gatekeeper was howling, all the boats were bumping into each other try9ing to stay away from her, Mimi was struggling with the boat AND her ice cream trying to get the little boat pointed the right way and out of the lock, and it was a total scream. What a girl.

God, it was funny. Mimi finally managed to get out of harm's way and over to the edge of the river so I could jump on, and Alex and I were holding our stomachs, we had been laughing so hard. Mimi was giggling as everyone waved to her and yelled how great she was and would she like a job captaining their boat next week! Ha!

I should have married her on the spot. England is a very silly place...very silly. Part of why I love it so much. And the women....well. I've met so many lovely, funny ones over there.

Another adventure on the Thames was courtesy my lovely married friends, Chris and Bryany. Bryany worked for the MOD (Ministry of Defence) and could never talk about her work, but would drop the occasional hint that the shit was about to hit the fan somewhere in Africa or the Middle East; while Chris was a builder/mechanic who could do anything, build anything, fix anything, and do it well. Happily, Bryany had big tits, so she was always delightful eye candy to be around. Chris and I shared the same taste in the fairer sex, so we got on great. They were a lovely pair (still are!). Chris and Bry, I mean.

One fine July Sunday in 1992 they asked me onto their boat and we would spend the day cruising up to Runnymead from Kingston....I think there are something like 15 or 20 locks to navigate on the way, and of course, LOTS of beer to consume during the course of the day. A great way to spend a whole Sunday, and the river was full of boats and people having a good time. Bryany made herself busy in the galley preparing hot dogs for us, and handed me mine laced with raw diced onions and also handed me a squeeze bottle of Coleman's mustard. Now, Coleman's mustard LOOKS EXACTLY like French's mustard...but that's where the similarity stops dead. Coleman's is more powerful than a wasabe locomotive. It's dyna-fucking-mite, mate. Well, yours truly, just over from California, and slightly lubricated, wasn't thinking too clearly, and I glopped a ton of this stuff on my dog, with Chris and Bry looking on curiously....I was very hungry, and took a huge bite and several enthusiastic chomps and FROZE. My sinuses shot off to Mars, ripped out of my burning skull, my brain stopped thinking, everything stopped, except the incredible pain everywhere I could imagine. My eyeballs spat gallons, I couldn't breathe, my head was on fire. Tear gas had nothin' on this stuff. Chris and Bry started laughing and I began to hiccup and it went from there. That was funny in another way!

Chris and Bryany don't play guitars either (I mentioned guitars once, but I think I got away with it).

Chris is a gadget, tool, spare bits packrat freak...he had THREE Jag saloons in various states of disrepair in his garage, surrounded with every tool and piece of construction equipment you could imagine. Nothing that came into Chris' garage ever left. After some gentle nudging from Bryany (a rare woman who doesn't know how to nag or bitch) about getting rid of some of his "junk," Chris' response was to build a huge metal barn 80 feet long and 30 feet wide to store all his stuff in! Well, since he now had so much more room, guess what? You got it in one.

They recently moved to Greece, leaving the house in England empty (but not the barn!) and I know Chris is rapidly filling up their new house, garage, and yard!

Here's a typical day in the English countryside (OK, not typical, but not that un-typical): I met Chris and Bryany in my local pub in Surrey, They had a cottage in the Cotswolds. As it turned out, they had a cottage in the same beautiful 16th century village my wife of three years in the early 80's came from, Chipping Campden. So Chris, Bry, and myself knew practically everyone in that village. They invited me to join them for the weekend, and we drove up (a two hour drive) to this lovely village in stunning countryside. When we got there midday, we found a small parade of some sort was making its way slowly through the town, everyone had a glass in their hands; the day was warm and sunny, and the atmosphere was terrific, with everyone out in the high street. Three guys who had just purchased an antique steam tractor and matching period caravan trailer, were trying to get from somewhere north of town to somewhere quite south of town, and got caught in the traffic.

It was hopeless...they weren't going anywhere...a street party was beginning to happen and everything stopped. The pubs were pulling pints as fast as they could, and the boys on the tractor were pulled off by the locals and taken into one of the pubs to get severely pissed...they weren't going anywhere today! Chris and I were drinking pints, and Bryany, out of curiosity, was keeping track of what we drank during the day until she couldn't count anymore. English pints are TWENTY ounces, and the glasses are filled to the brim (by law). From 12 noon until 11 that night, Chris and I each drank 14 pints of the golden liquid! And we weren't all that pissed, either.

Great day. The whole town was partying, and the pubs stayed open til the wee hours (against the law, but no one cared...the local cops were drinking the odd one as well!). All very civilized.

In England, the closing time is a ridiculous 11 pm...even on the weekends. But if the landlord knows the patrons, and he wants to stay "open" and have what's called a "lock-in," (where he locks the door, but knows everyone in the pub)....then he can keep serving til the cows come home. No money is supposed to exchange hands, and in pubs where they watch their P's and Q's, you settle up the next day...but most pubs will take money after hours...things can go on quite a long time...especially in the countryside, where there isn't much else to do except get together with your friends and make your own entertainment. And they do! Lots of wonderful monkey business as well!

I should probably mention guitars again---right, done that.

"West Wing" is just starting, so I'll shut this one down. Have a good one!