Mills & Boon ride again
TODAY we go over to the Mills & Boon idiom, which I confess is sometimes neglected in this column. The other evening I heard a story of romantic love that would melt the heart of the most hardened cynic.
This fellow was desperately in love with a girl, who loved him in return. He decided that when it came to popping the formal question, only the best would do. He arranged for a tryst at a place in the Midlands called Mulberry Hill. The question would be popped as they ate from a picnic hamper filled with the best and washed it down with French champagne.
He made the booking. But the ulterior purpose was to be a complete surprise for the lady. He arranged with the management for a picnic hamper to be placed at the appropriate lookout spot over Midmar. On arrival they would be told dinner would be another 45 minutes and they should go to the look-out spot in the meanwhile.
The best-laid plans of mice and men … The lady went out on the razzle at a hens' party in Durban the night before. They got pretty vrot on red wine. She was not feeling at her best as they set out next day. Pretty ratty, in fact.
She wanted to stop for coke and chips because she was hungry. No way, said the gallant beau, knowing of the repast that awaited at Mulberry Hill. The atmosphere became tense.
Arrived at Mulberry Hill, the wised-up chef told them dinner would be in another 45 minutes. He advised a romantic stroll up the hill to look at Midmar.
No way, said the fair lady. She wasn't walking up any damned hill. The gallant beau had to practically drag her.
Halfway up, she sat down. She was going no further, she declared.
"But you've got to see Midmar."
"You see Midmar. You've got your camera. Take a picture and show me." She punctuated all this with some rather unladylike language. Ratty, you understand.
He had to seize her and drag her up the remainder of the walk, loud shrieks of complaint and pungent adjectives rending the still evening air.
When they got to the look-out point, there stood a wicker hamper and two deckchairs. Gasping, she collapsed into one of them.
"Ok, now I'm going to take your photograph."
"You're out of your tiny mind!"
"Oh dear, I'm out of film." (This was some years ago in the pre-digital age).
He fished a spool canister out of his pocket. He shook it and it rattled.
"Can you open this for me?"
"Are you paralysed, you jerk!"
But she took the canister and opened it. Out fell a large sparkler, a diamond engagement ring. She got da message.
"Yes, yes, yes!"
A thousand violins sobbed from the surrounding woodlands. A yellow moon rose over Midmar. The rattiness evaporated. They ate the picnic hamper. They drank the French champagne. They got back to the lodge rather late and a little dishevelled.
As this account was related to me by that very couple the other evening in a romantic hostelry called Billy the Bum's, I could feel the tears pricking at my eyelids.
The moon stood still
On Mulberry Hill …
© Mills & Boon
Redneck romance
AND HERE'S more romance. Durban artist Barbara Siedle sends in this Redneck Love Poem which won a poetry competition in West Virginia in 1912.
Susie Lee done fall in love,
She planned to marry Joe.
She was so happy 'bout it all,
She told her Pappy so.
Pappy told her, Susie gal,
You'll have to find another.
I'd just as soon yo' Ma don't know,
But Joe is your half brother.
So Susie put aside her Joe
And planned to marry Will.
But after telling Pappy this,
He said, There's trouble still.
You can't marry Will, my gal,
And please don't tell yo' Mother.
But Will and Joe and several mo'
I know is yo' half brother.
But Mama knew and said, my child,
Just do what makes yo' happy.
Marry Will or marry Joe:
You ain't no kin to Pappy.
Tailpiece
Last word
Golf and sex are about the only things you can enjoy without being good at. - Jimmy Demaret
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