Whatever Love Means

By Bob Leaver

"I was surrounded by love growing up but I don't really remember hearing it said much, that was all a bit awkward and unnecessary but, because I was lucky, it ran through everything like fat marbling a piece of meat."

WHATEVER LOVE MEANS comprises a series of twenty-four internal dialogues rendered by a variety of characters ranging in age from mid thirties through to early seventies.

It features the life experience of twenty-four individuals, sharing their private selves in a public forum. Each monologue is self-contained yet interconnected. As, inevitably, we all are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781329654402

Book preview

Preface

(T)here are seven words in Latin for our one English word ‘Love’. Whatever Love Means uncovers the need for an eighth – at least an eighth, if not more.

It comprises a series of twenty-four internal dialogues rendered by a variety of characters ranging in age from mid-thirties through to early seventies.

It is poignant comedy that packs a punch.

It features the life experience of twenty-four individuals, sharing their private selves in a public forum. Each monologue is self-contained yet interconnected. As, inevitably, we all are.

I wanted to give a voice to the voiceless; to individuals that feature so rarely in popular culture.

The personal is universal in my experience and that experience deserves to be shared.

Whatever Love Means

Diana looks like an older version of her legendary Royal contemporary and namesake. In her early 60s, she is wearing a tiara and sits at the dinner table polishing the family silver.

It was only through watching a documentary on BBC TV that I learnt that the teenage Princess Diana - aka Lady Diana Spencer - had photographs of Prince Charles on her bedroom wall. Where others had ABBA posters, Big Ears took pride of place on her Regency, hand-crafted, antique wallpaper and was literally her pin-up. And I could only wonder how the future of the British monarchy would have evolved if only her father, the late Earl Spencer, had, had the foresight to take her on a jaunt to the local opticians before the inevitable happened... I doubt she would have been the nation’s sweetheart in a pair of bottle-bottoms but so what? It would have saved her a world of pain. 

Spookily enough, I have a lot in common with Lady Di. We not only share the same birth name but there are a lot of other significant similarities. We share the same birthday, July 1st, 1961. Like her, I failed my ‘O’ levels, specialised in Laura Ashley print frocks and my choice in men has always been equally questionable...

I also grew up on the Sandringham Estate, though mine was a council estate in Leeds not a country pile in Norfolk, but no matter. I always felt an affinity with my namesake. She always had the common touch and would undoubtedly have thrived in our two-bedroom flat with mum, dad, my three siblings, the family dog, Spot, the hamster, Ollie, and numerous goldfish.

My first great love was also called Charles, though he preferred to go by the moniker of Chas as per his favourite band Chas & Dave. Perhaps I should have taken that as a warning? But I was 19 and he was 32. He was a man of the world and I’d never ventured further than Skegness. My parents voiced their concerns, but I was at that age when I wouldn’t listen. He was quite the catch, I reckoned. He owned his own fish and chip shop. More importantly he swore to love me until the seas ran dry – whatever love means, he added worryingly. Not that it registered at the time – love being deaf as well as blind. Talking of blind, our eyes locked over a fish supper with a generous portion of extra scraps and mushy peas which he claimed were a bonus just for me. Call it chemistry. From there it was a few short skips up the backstairs to his flat over the shop. Strange how quickly I became immune to the smell of haddock and Chas’ fishy fingers. I was devastated when I discovered his illicit affair with Camilla, the youth opportunity assistant who filleted his fish. Broke my heart it did. I grabbed young William out of his cot and ran for the hills. Consequently, I have never eaten seafood from that day to this.

I was on the rebound when I met James or Big Daddy as he preferred. He was in the military, and I was a vulnerable target. That is my only excuse. We met in a wine bar near Aldershot whilst I was on the run from my ex and I was immediately impressed by his comprehensive knowledge of attack weaponry. He was three sheets to the wind when I met him but I overlooked his alcoholism because he had the kind of musculature I was sure could protect me. But my judgement was misplaced - he was a cad and a bounder. We embarked on a mad, passionate affair which, due to his professed allergy to rubber, resulted in my second sprog. To complicate matters further, Chas, who continued to stalk me, was convinced said second sprog, Harry, was the fruit of his own loins despite the fact that I had not been the new cod on his block since 1984. It was all a horrible mess. And James failed me in my moment of need. He packed up his combats and, with his assault weapon between his legs, beat a hasty retreat to his mother’s home in Devon and that was the end of that.

I was living in a women’s hostel around that time. Fortunately, they had a crèche. I took my first steps towards recovery by going to the gym. That’s where I met the other Will. Will the ex-rugby player and second-hand car salesman. He wasn’t the brightest but what a body! We met in the mixed sauna when he accidently let his towel fall open and the deal was sealed. He was crackers about me was Will. Unfortunately, his wife was just crackers. Let me state for the record, I had no idea he was married. I’ve been on the other side of that equation and would not have knowingly gone there. He, however, conveniently forgot to mention it until I got a brick through my window with her threatening to chop off his bits and to make my life a living hell. I’d had enough of drama by this stage. I thought if I didn’t get it sorted I’d end up on Jeremy Kyle.

Had to move on again but this time I was determined to make a proper go if it. I thought: Where could I go where no one would ever find me? and could only come to one conclusion – the third largest district by population in England that nobody knows – Sheffield. So that was that, moved me and the kids to the Socialist Republic of South Yorkshire, changed my name to Diana Windsor and started again from scratch.

And that’s where the similarities between me and my namesake diverge, thankfully. It wasn’t easy surviving on Jobseekers with two kids, a studio flat in the grotty part of town and no family support but I got work experience that led to a job in the Civil Service which, in turn, led to Brian. For the first time in my life, I met a man with whom I was not in love. But I knew Brian would be good for me. His love fairly vibrated across an open-plan office, and I was finally persuaded. A first date led to a second led to a family outing. Brian loved me. He loved my boys. He was willing to take us all on. It felt like a good deal.

And it has been a good deal. Maybe the passion isn’t there but there’s a lot to be said for a kind, decent human being who loves me and looks after us. In fact, I’d go so far as to say he’d lay down his life for us and certainly his pension. It means a lot. And if it’s any consolation, I’ve grown to love him - because he is kind and fair and decent and he loves us. I love him for all the right reasons.

Will grew up, married an air hostess and flew the coup. Harry married an American divorcee and will have to live with the consequences. But we still keep in regular touch - on social media mostly. And me and Brian?

Sometimes he sings to me late at night in bed. He sings that song Kenny Rogers sang: Lady. He kisses me and calls me his Lady Di and then he falls asleep.

It’s a good job you