Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The Incident With the Wet Mattress

Hastings. We had a few holidays there when I was a teenager, one of which was spent at Coombe Haven Caravan Park, a typical holiday park just outside of what was once an old fishing town.

The caravan we'd hired was one of the oldest on the park. It had a rounded roof, no running water, no shower or loo and the beds were stuffed with... well, I don't know but they were heavy and hard. Even for 1974 that was a pretty old-fashioned caravan. Still, the communal tap was close enough to see and the shower/wc block wasn't far away so it could have been worse.

Because I'd hit my teens and hanging around with my parents throughout a holiday was starting to get dull, I'd been allowed to take a friend away with us. Carol, my best friend from grammar school, came along. I think this was probably also the first holiday where I'd had a real holiday romance. Tony his name was and he lived over Brixton way.

I really, really fancied him and looked forward to evenings when we'd meet up and have a snog. Unfortunately, he didn't have a mate with him so I suppose it must have been a bit boring for Carol but she didn't complain.

About half way through the holiday I had a wee accident. No, I'm not going all Scottish on you, I mean I had a WEE accident. I wee-ed the bed! Piddled it. Wet it. Whatever you like to call it. And not just a dot or two, either. It was as if somebody had thrown a bucket of water over the bed!

I was petrified that my mum would find out; she'd have gone bananas, so Carol and I turned the mattress as quietly as we could, trying not to wake anybody. As hard as it is to believe now, we managed it! 2am, the camp's silent, and two girls are trying to suppress giggles whilst flipping a heavy double mattress. How did we do it? I've no idea but as far as I know, my mum still doesn't know about that.

Anyway, that night we went down to the camp's entertainment complex as usual and met up with Tony. What did Carol do? Bloody well told him about my wee episode, that's what! If that's not embarrassing then what is? If ever I wanted the ground to open, that was the moment! Thirteen years old, in love for the first time (yes, yes... I know) and having the apple of your eye told that you'd pee-ed the bed. Cheers, Carol.

Why did she do it? Her explanation was "I didn't think it'd bother you". No, of course not. Perhaps just a little jealously at being the third wheel on the wagon? Who knows? As it turned out, it didn't matter because we carried on meeting until the end of the holiday and then -- as is the norm with holiday romances -- we wrote for a month or so and then life went on as it had before Hastings.

Strangely enough I bumped into Tony again when I was seventeen. He worked near to where I was working at the time so we went out for a lunchtime drink. He remembered the episode and although we laughed about it, I still cringed inside. When you're young, there are some things you just don't want the opposite sex to know about.

Tony and I dated a few times but the old spark wasn't there anymore. Just as well really because I hadn't finished wetting the bed. There are more stories to come!

But not just yet...



At 2:11 pm, May 22, 2006, Blogger Carol said...

I apologise. I don't remember telling him, in fact I don't even remember him. I do remember that incident very clearly though, probably because we were sharing the bloody bed and I woke up soaked too. Oh those were the days, if only I had taken waterproofs!!! :-)

At 9:08 am, May 24, 2006, Anonymous Sharon J said...

I'm not surprised that you remember the incident but I am surprised you don't remember him. Not that it matters; it was hardly a life-changing event.


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