At about fourteen years old, I began hanging around with a school friend, Derek Shroud. He was an odd character, which is probably why I liked him. He was obsessed with silent horror films made before colour, refusing to watch contemporary movies as if they were a toxic threat to humanity’s soul. On Sunday afternoons, we’d spend hours in a darkened room watching old classics such as Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1920), Frankenstein (1910), The Golem, How He Came into the World (1920), The Phantom of the Opera (1925), and Nosferatu (1922), and more. All brilliant to watch. However, before the movies were shown on his home projector, he would set up a ten-minute waiting time like in a cinema, playing The Bee Gees in the background, which I didn’t enjoy. And then, during the intermission before the next film, he’d play more Bee Gees, argh!
Whenever we sat down for dinner with his elderly parents, he was very controlling and would command them to eat slowly and chew about thirty times. He argued in a serious tone that it improved digestion, nutrient absorption, and gave the body a chance to process food. He was correct but rather annoying, and his parents nonchalantly chuckled at his suggestions, ignoring him. Derek would always act like he was the adult in the room, and everyone else was just playing at existing, so he was more serious and righteous. He ate slowly as everyone else finished their meals and left the table, proving his point. Derek didn’t have many friends, but he was happy being on his own and doing his thing.
When Derek invited me to Cornwall with him and his parents, I was surprised he’d asked. Also, I was hesitant. Being stuck in a car on a long journey in the middle of summer with three strangers was not an attractive prospect. However, I had never been to Cornwall, which would not cost much. I had saved enough to contribute to food and petrol, and his parents offered to pay for lodging. I was asked to be around their house at about five in the morning. It was close to our house, about four minutes away. I wasn’t expecting to travel such a long distance in a Robin-reliant. We set off at quarter past five. Derek’s parents were in the front, his dad driving, and he and I sat in the back seats. Because the vehicle was so small, we were immersed in bed covers and luggage that didn’t fit in the boot.
Our journey to Cornwall had just begun. When we had an unexpected encounter with a naked man running along the side of the motorway. There was no other traffic on the road, just this naturist jogger on our left side. For reasons we cannot explain, Derek’s dad slowed the car down to match his running speed, and then his parents conversed with him. He was a skinny man and about six feet tall. They were chatting cheerfully about what a nice day it was. Derek and I could not ignore the man’s hairy balls and impressively sized cock bouncing up and down at our eye level. That was the first time I had seen a man’s genitalia.
The stay in Cornwall was part of a larger complex at a Butlins holiday camp. That night, Derek was keen for us to go to a disco at the holiday camp. I wasn’t interested at all, but I went. However, the ritual of putting on the right clothes beforehand was an important part of it all. I hadn’t been informed that we were going to a disco, and I wasn’t told to bring any specific garments for dancing, so my dress was summer casual. To my surprise, Derek had already chosen an outfit he had brought for the event. It was a dark purple velvet suit. He was insistent, even though it was in the middle of summer, that he wouldn’t be too hot. His suit had massive flares, and I felt uncomfortable walking into the club with him. From an early age, my repulsion towards flares was strong. We stayed there for a while, drinking fizzy pop with ice and were the only young ones in the club. The mistake that Derek made was presuming there would be no adults getting in the way, but as soon as younger kids our age came, they stayed with their parents. Thankfully, the hunt for girls was soon over, and we returned to our shared room and played Scrabble.
A Reliant Robin Adventure. By Marc Garrett, from his book Feral Class. Published by Minor Compositions, 1 Jan. 2026. https://www.minorcompositions.info/?p=1561
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