Tuesday in Rye was a lovely night. A new moon had appeared to announce a new lunar month on earth. We will mention no names to protect the innocent. Let’s just say a certain eating house in town entertained an Elvis Presley lookalike and the place was packed with well known faces. I was kicked out of my usual coffee house and eleven o clock and as I made my way to my car, the din from the restaurant drew my attention. I was spotted by a certain merrymaker and invited inside to partake an excellent with amicable revellers. We all knew each other and the banter was easy and lively. The subject of the contents of my jacket pockets came up and I turned them out onto the table to a roar of laughter. First a Holy Bible, then a tin of fishing flies, a wallet, a notepad, pens, a set of darts, tobacco, lighter, cigars, handkerchief, beer mat, lucky stone, Epipen for bee stings, camera, a few coins, a Dictaphone for recording, a packet of biscuits, sweeteners for my coffee, a comb, two elastic bands, a few paperclips, and a new toothbrush, don’t ask why, I have no idea, and last of all a stick of Hastings rock with the name Hastings running all the way through it. The young lady sitting opposite me was well known to all Rye and she had a red balloon tied to her wrist that floated ever skywards. She was intrigued by the contents of my pockets having not believed the tales from other people of my treasures hidden within.
The night came to a close and I made my way home alone. (Please note alone.) Three days later Rye hosted an auction for the Rye Bonfire Boys in the George Hotel and raised a lot of money. Imagine my surprise when the young lady turned up alongside me and enquired if I knew how she had awoken the day after the party to find herself undressed in her own bed with a balloon still tied to her wrist. The size of the gas filled balloon was too large to come over her arm. It worried her that she could remember nothing. Then she said “I then went downstairs to find your stick of rock on the kitchen table.” My rock she did remember from the night before and also who it was from. The poor woman had no recollection of going home and taking the rock with her and could I shed any light on her problem? I was sorry, but NO! Luckily I had many witnesses who saw me going home and a very understanding wife!
Another Jimper Story from the “Rye’s Own” Archive to brighten up your Christmas
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