Written by: Roger Dowse
The Unexpected Hazards of Playing Squash
In the late ‘70s I worked for a large insurance company on Redcliffe Hill, Bristol. The company had recently financially rescued Gloucester Cricket Club, and part of the deal was the construction of squash courts at the County Ground. I enjoyed playing squash, although I wasn’t very good, and occasionally played on these courts.
One day I had a call from the General Manager asking me to come and see him. He was a tall, well built New Yorker – a very formidable and impressive figure in every way – both competitive and clever. To my amazement he asked me to join him in a game of squash that evening. Although he was quite a few years older than me I was definitely not in his league, but he was recovering from injury and I was obviously ‘cannon fodder’ in that recovery.
I was not at all keen, with a wife and young family expecting me home, and the prospect of a thrashing on the court. I had come to work on the bus since we only had one car, and you know who needed that most! But he wouldn’t be put off and said I could borrow his car if I picked him up in the morning. Well, I was ambitious and he was the top man, not someone to disappoint if I wanted to get on. So I reluctantly agreed.
Come 5 o’clock we set off for the County Ground and, low and behold, I managed to beat him! He was good company and I enjoyed the experience. We drove to his home overlooking the Downs and he invited me in for a drink and to meet his wife.
Eventually it was time to go. He gave me the car keys and told me to pick him up at 8.45 the next morning. I sat in the car (a Ford Granada 2.8 litre V6, a far cry from my little banger) and found, being a rather short person, I couldn’t reach the pedals. I reached under the seat for the adjusting lever and realised something was wrong, since as I moved the seat moved with me! I sat there thinking I can’t go back and tell him, I shall have to drive home and sort it out. So off I went down Blackboy Hill heading for Temple Meads, but when I accelerated I slid back and when I braked I slid forward. As you can imagine, in a powerful car I had never driven before this was nearly a disaster. But I did get home thinking my career enhancing outing had turned into a nightmare.
The next morning I went to the office early to see if our maintenance team could help. The foreman sent me to Sidney Sewards, opposite St Mary Redcliffe, where our company vehicles were serviced. They had a quick look and said bring it back later and we will sort it out. So I drove up to the Downs and decided to come clean about what had happened, explain that I had the garage lined up to repair it, and the big boss needn’t worry. He was pretty good about it but stressed he had an important lunch appointment and needed his car at noon.
I got him to the office without too much slipping and sliding, went straight back to the garage and thought my worries were over. But alas no!!
As the mechanic held the seat up the rolling brackets slid apart and ball bearings bounced all around the floor! ‘Well that’s done it’ the foreman announced (or words to that effect). ‘We shall have to order new runners’ and, with a deep intake of breath, ‘we won’t get them for several days’ I explained my situation and said the big boss always has the seat back as far as it will go, so can it be secured in that position? They fixed it with metal wedges and assured me it would be okay.
I took the car back to the office and gave the big boss the keys, assuring him I had sorted it for him to go out at lunchtime.
Well, you know what’s coming next. He got no further than the first pedestrian crossing and the wedges shot out!!
Funnily, he never asked me to play squash again.