Reminiscing

Once, a little while ago in another thread, I mentioned a friend and her alter ego, Bianca, and said it was a long story that would probably bore everyone to tears. A couple of people said they’d like to hear it sometime so here it is.

My lovely friend Gill was a bubbly buxom blonde, men were drawn to her like moths to a candle and with her Wiltshire carrot cruncher accent (her description, not mine!) many men assumed she was a dumb blonde bimbo…well no, not Gill, she was a sassy clever lady with a fantastic personality and sense of humour, queen of the put downs and didn’t suffer fools gladly.

Back in the late 90s our little pub in Brighton would often be invaded by Hooray Henries, many of whom would fancy their chances with Gill and she would give them enough rope to hang themselves then send them off with a flea in their ear, looking suitably embarrassed and chastised. One particular evening we were invaded by stockbroker types who thought that all they had to do was flash the cash and the world was theirs. Money doesn’t buy class though, and we watched as they all tried to outdo each other…they may have been impressing each other but to everyone else they just looked stupid.

I can’t remember what prompted it but something made us both look at each other whilst stifling laughter and she blurted out in a Essex-trying-to-sound-posh accent “that’s claaaars that innit”. After we’d recovered from our fits of laughter I asked “who on earth was that?” and she replied “No idea, let’s call her Bianca.” An alter ego was born!

Bianca Fettucini was a secretary who drove a pink Fiesta Frascati, her favourite drink was brandy and babycham (cos it’s claaaars innit), she was a bit slow on the uptake and all wide eyed and agog with wonder and she came out to play whenever some poor unsuspecting guy got carried away and Gill decided to play along for a bit of fun. We all played along and stifled laughter as she asked him questions about himself, hung on his every word whilst making more and more outrageous comments until eventually the guy would realise that he was being played…most took it in good part when she apologised, said that she couldn’t resist it and thanked them for being such a good sport and bought them a drink.

One Friday evening we all arranged to meet in a pub on the seafront. Gill and another friend were there before us and we arrived to find them drinking the best champagne on the wine list. We asked the occasion and Gill just waved her hand and said “nothing special, just life”. We didn’t know it then but she had just been diagnosed with cancer. It was particularly aggressive and as time passed Bianca vanished but Gill was never a victim, she fought it all the way. At the hospice one evening she was sinking lower in the bed and our boss said “Let me plump your pillows up”…she fixed him with a look and said “Andy, you’ve been waiting a long time to say that…oh you meant those pillows” and pouted.

Her funeral was a humanist one, first I have been to, and appropriately we were greeted at the entrance with a glass of bubbly to toast Gill with. As we left we walked past the flowers and mine got attention with people looking at me, puzzled until someone finally asked who Bianca was…the card said RIP Gill/Bianca. The drinks afterwards were full of laughter as people remembered Bianca and we shared our memories.

Happy times…RIP Gill and Bianca, until we meet again xx