some benefits after all
.
We make our way across to the stage area where everyone else is starting to gather now to wait for the first band to begin playing.
‘Jo-Jo! Harry!’ I hear someone call. I turn around to see George weaving his way through the crowd towards us.
‘George, what are you doing here?’ I ask him as he squeezes into a space next to us. I’m so glad to see George again I almost hug him. There’d been no chance of getting away earlier to go back to the shop to see him and, to be honest, I felt extremely nervous of venturing out anywhere on my own in this strange new world I found myself in, without a chaperone. But now he was here in the pub with us, perhaps he’d be able to answer some of my questions.
‘I always try and pop in when they’ve got some local bands on,’ George says, smiling. ‘You never know when I might be playing their songs in my shop one day.’
‘That’s very true.’ I look at the band setting up on the stage right now. But they don’t look at all familiar, especially with my limited musical knowledge.
‘Pint, George?’ Harry enquires, holding up his now empty glass.
‘That’s very good of you, Harry – yes please, bitter.’
‘Same again for you, Jo-Jo?’
I nod. ‘Yes, please.’
Harry makes his way over to the bar, which is now starting to get very busy as the promise of live music about to begin swells the numbers in the pub.
‘So how are you getting on?’ George asks me, as a few people begin to push in front of us in their eagerness to get to the stage.
‘How am I getting on? You make it sound like I’ve just started a new job. I’m stuck in the sixties, for goodness’ sake. Wearing strange tight clothes, drinking a fizzy concoction that, for no apparent reason, is advertised by Bambi. And my
hair
,’ I touch the crusty helmet that is currently masquerading as my hair, ‘has been back-combed and sprayed to within an inch of its life and seems to be defying gravity at this very moment! Just what’s going on, George? And more importantly, how do I make it stop?’
‘Whoah, calm down,’ George says. ‘Let’s take this one step at a time.’
‘One step at a time! It’s all ridiculous, and none of it makes any sense. For instance, how can I be here in 1963 with you – the same you I know from 2013, but looking so much younger? And then there’s Harry, too. He looks virtually the same as he did before, but he’s kind of different at the same time, and then, to make things even more complicated, Ellie is here as well!’
‘Ellie?’ George asks.
‘Ellie – she was my PA at my accounts firm back in 2013, but she’s my flatmate here in 1963. Well, a version very much like the original Ellie. What’s happening to me, am I going mad, dreaming, what is it?’
George shakes his head. ‘No, you’re not going mad, it’s difficult to explain exactly
why
this often happens. It just does. And usually for
very
good reason. It’s not strange at all that Harry and Ellie are here with you again. If these people were a part of your life in 2013, there’s no reason versions of them shouldn’t be a similar part of your life here in 1963 too, is there?’
I try and take a step back from George as best I can on the now extremely crowded pub floor. ‘I’m not sure I’m quite following you, George. You mean this really isn’t a dream, that I’m not hallucinating, I just have to accept I really am living this new life in the sixties?’
‘Yes, Jo-Jo, I’m afraid for now you do.’
I take another look around the pub. The band is just starting to play a medley of songs I don’t know, but the sound is familiar to me from the many programmes I’ve caught bits of over the years, revisiting music and fashion from the fifties and sixties. In fact, suddenly it’s like hopping inside one of those black and white episodes of
Top of the Pops
as the crowd begin to bob about to the music in front of me.
‘But if I’m stuck here in 1963 what
.
We make our way across to the stage area where everyone else is starting to gather now to wait for the first band to begin playing.
‘Jo-Jo! Harry!’ I hear someone call. I turn around to see George weaving his way through the crowd towards us.
‘George, what are you doing here?’ I ask him as he squeezes into a space next to us. I’m so glad to see George again I almost hug him. There’d been no chance of getting away earlier to go back to the shop to see him and, to be honest, I felt extremely nervous of venturing out anywhere on my own in this strange new world I found myself in, without a chaperone. But now he was here in the pub with us, perhaps he’d be able to answer some of my questions.
‘I always try and pop in when they’ve got some local bands on,’ George says, smiling. ‘You never know when I might be playing their songs in my shop one day.’
‘That’s very true.’ I look at the band setting up on the stage right now. But they don’t look at all familiar, especially with my limited musical knowledge.
‘Pint, George?’ Harry enquires, holding up his now empty glass.
‘That’s very good of you, Harry – yes please, bitter.’
‘Same again for you, Jo-Jo?’
I nod. ‘Yes, please.’
Harry makes his way over to the bar, which is now starting to get very busy as the promise of live music about to begin swells the numbers in the pub.
‘So how are you getting on?’ George asks me, as a few people begin to push in front of us in their eagerness to get to the stage.
‘How am I getting on? You make it sound like I’ve just started a new job. I’m stuck in the sixties, for goodness’ sake. Wearing strange tight clothes, drinking a fizzy concoction that, for no apparent reason, is advertised by Bambi. And my
hair
,’ I touch the crusty helmet that is currently masquerading as my hair, ‘has been back-combed and sprayed to within an inch of its life and seems to be defying gravity at this very moment! Just what’s going on, George? And more importantly, how do I make it stop?’
‘Whoah, calm down,’ George says. ‘Let’s take this one step at a time.’
‘One step at a time! It’s all ridiculous, and none of it makes any sense. For instance, how can I be here in 1963 with you – the same you I know from 2013, but looking so much younger? And then there’s Harry, too. He looks virtually the same as he did before, but he’s kind of different at the same time, and then, to make things even more complicated, Ellie is here as well!’
‘Ellie?’ George asks.
‘Ellie – she was my PA at my accounts firm back in 2013, but she’s my flatmate here in 1963. Well, a version very much like the original Ellie. What’s happening to me, am I going mad, dreaming, what is it?’
George shakes his head. ‘No, you’re not going mad, it’s difficult to explain exactly
why
this often happens. It just does. And usually for
very
good reason. It’s not strange at all that Harry and Ellie are here with you again. If these people were a part of your life in 2013, there’s no reason versions of them shouldn’t be a similar part of your life here in 1963 too, is there?’
I try and take a step back from George as best I can on the now extremely crowded pub floor. ‘I’m not sure I’m quite following you, George. You mean this really isn’t a dream, that I’m not hallucinating, I just have to accept I really am living this new life in the sixties?’
‘Yes, Jo-Jo, I’m afraid for now you do.’
I take another look around the pub. The band is just starting to play a medley of songs I don’t know, but the sound is familiar to me from the many programmes I’ve caught bits of over the years, revisiting music and fashion from the fifties and sixties. In fact, suddenly it’s like hopping inside one of those black and white episodes of
Top of the Pops
as the crowd begin to bob about to the music in front of me.
‘But if I’m stuck here in 1963 what
Similar Books
