30th of July 1966

  

Got a lot to answer for!

 On a recent zoom call, my mother remembered the famous day, when against the odds, the England Football team beat Germany in the World Cup final.  What a day for little old England.  Always unsure of the 'greatness', England found that the concrete twin-towered Wembley Stadium became a blessed space, a place where unadulterated joy could be felt for thousands, emanating out from London, up and across to certain borders, where it abruptly stopped.  It was a moment when all  troubles and disquiet of the heart could legitimately be passed over, and holy spirits imbibed to mark the moment of an euphoric high, followed inevitable by the eventual tumbling down on the other side to a sobering return to reality.  

It was at this point of tumbling down that I was born into the world.

Mother explained how by complete accident, she had been visiting a friend with one of those rare objects, the television set, when the famous goal was scored.  They thought it was all over, but my mother knew instinctively that hers had just begun. 

Sure enough, when on the eve of the 6th of August, my father drove my mother to the maternity ward, they had a premeditation that the infallible security blanket of the NHS was going to let them down.  The double doors were closed shut, and a sign on the door for the hospital Chief executive announced that due to chronic staff shortages, as a consequence of  recent events in the capital, the hospital was temporarily closed.  There was absolutely nothing offered to those presented with the challenges associated with child birth.  

My parents looked at each other, and up to heaven.  The evening was drawing in; the tide of time pulled relentlessly.  My mother felt another contraction.  Then, before them, they saw a light, a star shining brightly.  With nothing else presenting itself, they followed the star.  It seemed to offer hope, and spoke of destiny.  The light led them to a small. rundown garage, open late in the evening.

The kindly mechanic took one look and knew just what was needed.  He washed his hands and pulled out a settee that had once graced the back seat of a Morris sedan.

With great practical skill, I was born into a pool of engine oil. "very similar principle to removing a big end for an engine block" was the story I heard as I grew up, along this the explanation of why I was also christen  'Morris'.