Stories Written on Lined Paper - 17. Boxing Day 1975

1 Karl’s View

They were all gathered around the TV that evening, as they always did on Boxing Day, to watch the holiday film. His mum sitting and knitting in her armchair, his dad with his unread newspaper by his side in his armchair, his older brother Gary slouched at one end of the sofa and Karl sat at the other end. That year the film was One Million Years B.C., the nineteen-sixties dinosaur fantasy with Raquel Welch in a shammy-leather bikini. Even to his eleven-year-old eyes the film was rubbish, the story thinner than Raquel’s costume. Gary, at fifteen, was obviously loving every minute of it, and his dad was watching it intently too.

“Look at the knockers on that,” Gary said, his eyes on Raquel Welch, who filled the television screen. Karl wanted to sink down into the sofa, not to be involved in Gary’s stupid comment.

“Don’t be crude,” his mum replied, not even looking up from her knitting.

“But that Raquel Welch has a great set of melons,” Gary protested.

“And that’s all this film has got, its complete rubbish,” his mum said.

“They’ve got it quite realistic,” his dad said, shifting in his chair.

“For Pete’s sake! Dinosaurs and people never lived at the same time. I’ve helped our sons with their homework enough times to know that,” his mum said, putting her knitting down.

“It’s a harmless bit of fun,” his dad said.

“No, it’s rubbish. There’s no story to it. You lot only want to watch it for that Raquel Welch,” his mum snapped.

Karl now wanted to disappear into the sofa; he didn’t want to be here as the others started another argument.

“Yeah, and she’s a bit of all right,” Gary said.

“You shouldn’t be thinking like that at fifteen,” his mum said.

“I’m sixteen next month,” Gary protested.

“And don’t I know it,” his mum said.

“The lad’s only showing a natural interest,” his dad added.

“You three are all the same.” His mum cast a disapproving look over all of them.

But they weren’t the same; Karl didn’t see the point of Raquel Welch either. She may have been pretty, but she didn’t interest him. John Richardson, the actor playing her caveman boyfriend Tomac, was far more interesting to him.

John Richardson was ruggedly handsome, even under the thick beard and animal skin costume, and his costume showed off only slightly less flesh then Raquel Welch’s shammy-leather bikini. He radiated a strong masculinity, strutting around the screen with his spear and fighting the dinosaurs. Karl couldn’t take his eyes off the man, rapidly losing interest in the film when John Richardson wasn’t on screen. When he did appear, Karl wanted to be the one John Richardson rescued from those dinosaurs, the one that was held in John Richardson’s strong arms.

It was the first time he had really noticed how attractive a man could be and how uninterested in women’s looks he actually was. At the same moment Karl also knew that this realisation wouldn’t be welcomed by those around him. He couldn’t see Gary or his dad or even his mum being happy to hear this news. Boys were supposed to be interested in Raquel Welch and not John Richardson; it was there all around him. He knew he had to keep quiet.

“I should change the channel from this nonsense,” his mum said to the whole room.

“No, mum,” Gary protested. “It’s a really good film… Isn’t it?” He directed his last comment to Karl.

“It’s boring,” Karl replied. John Richardson hadn’t been on screen for nearly five minutes, and his attention was rapidly slipping.

“What do you know, sissy!” Gary snapped and punched Karl on the arm.

Karl felt that snap of panic. He wasn’t a sissy; he wasn’t one of them. Did Gary know? He tried to push down that moment of panic, he couldn’t let the others see, he wasn’t a sissy, he wasn’t.

“Hey,” Karl shouted back as he looked at his mum for support, but she’d returned her attention to her knitting.

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2 Gary’s View

Gary watched the film intently; Raquel Welch was screaming and running away from another dinosaur. It was all she seemed to do in this film, but he didn’t care. Her shammy-leather bikini was very small and her figure was very curving. Her cleavage was pushed forward against the material of her bikini top, and his eyes kept returning to it.

They were all gathered together around the TV, watching One Million Years B.C. Normally he would have felt embarrassed watching a film with so many half-naked women in it in front of his parents, but today felt different. His mum was openly ignoring the film, instead concentrating on the knitting spilling over her lap. His dad, on the other hand, was openly watching it, his newspaper lying forgotten by his side. Even Karl, Gary's younger, stupid brother, was watching the film closely. All three of them were enjoying the film.

He saw his dad actually quickly licking his lips at a shot of Raquel Welch leaning forward and grunting, her breasts straining at the slim confines of her costume. His dad was enjoying the sight of Raquel Welch's cleavage as much as he was. He was sharing a moment with his dad.

He so wanted to be like his dad, wanted his dad to notice him and be pleased with him, wanted his dad to agree with him.

The words fell out of his mouth without barely a thought; he just wanted to show his dad that he too was enjoying watching Raquel Welch.

"Look at the knockers on her," he said. His was staring at the TV, but he was watching his dad out of the corner of his eyes. He saw his dad smile and nod at what he'd said. Gary felt a moment of pride; his dad approved of what he's said.

"Don't be crude," his mum snapped, not even looking up from her knitting.

"But Raquel Welch has a great set of melons," Gary protested. He wanted to keep his dad on his side, and arguing with his mum was not always the way to do it, but still he couldn’t just give in to her like a little kid.

“And that’s all this film has got; its complete rubbish,” his mum said.

“They’ve got it quite realistic,” his dad said, shifting in his chair. Gary smiled to himself, his dad was still on his side.

“For Pete’s sake! Dinosaurs and people never lived at the same time. I’ve helped our sons with their homework enough times to know that,” his mum said, putting her knitting down.

Gary felt himself shifting awkwardly on the sofa; his mum was on the attack now. He didn't want to get caught in the middle of one of their arguments, but he didn't want to abandon his dad. He was on his dad's side, and he wanted his dad to see that.

“It’s a harmless bit of fun,” his dad said. Gary slumped back onto the sofa; his dad was still enjoying the film too. Gary glanced back at the TV. Raquel Welch was now wandering across a desert.

“No, it’s rubbish. There’s no story to it. You lot only want to watch it for that Raquel Welch,” his mum snapped.

Gary felt his chest puff up with pride. What if they were just watching it for Raquel Welch? His dad didn't object, and that was good enough for him, which was all the permission Gary wanted. He was enjoying the film and so was his dad, and that was what was important to him.

“Yeah, and she’s a bit of all right,” Gary said, coming to the defence of his dad. He knew his father liked Raquel Welch too, they were sharing that, and he couldn't not defend his dad.

“You shouldn’t be thinking like that at fifteen,” his mum said. Gary felt the heat stinging at his checks, embarrassment beginning to flush his face.

“I’m sixteen next month,” he protested. He wasn't a little kid, not like Karl, he was almost grown-up.

“And don’t I know it,” his mum said.

“The lad’s only showing a natural interest,” his dad added. Gary wanted to smile with pride, his dad was siding with him, but he also knew not to do that in front of his mum. It would only make her anger worse.

“You three are all the same.” His mum glared at all of them.

Gary didn't see what was wrong with that. Him and his dad both liked the sight of Raquel Welch, and it meant a lot to Gary. He always wanted his dad's approval, and tonight, in a quiet and very roundabout way he was getting it. His dad was defending the film they were both enjoying, and his dad was even defending him. His dad was backing him up and Gary glowed in it. It was what he wanted.

“I should change the channel from this nonsense,” his mum said to the whole room.

“No, mum,” Gary protested. Panic shot up into his throat. She couldn't turn off the film, he was enjoying it with his dad, she couldn't take that away from him. “It’s a really good film… Isn’t it?” Gary directed his attention and his last comment towards Karl; he now needed Karl's support for once.

“It’s boring,” Karl replied in that quiet, squeaky and really annoying voice of his.

“What do you know, sissy!” Gary snapped back, his anger bubbling over at Karl's total uselessness, and he punched Karl on the arm, to show him how angry he was.

“Hey,” Karl shouted back and then sank back into the sofa like the useless sissy he really was. Gary just glared back at his brother.

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3 Margaret’s View

Margaret concentrated on her knitting. She always found knitting relaxed her, the thymic clicking of her needles, the careful but routine slipping of the of wool over the needles to form the knots that would form the body of her knitted material. Tonight she was knitting herself a green cardigan, to go with her new pale green dress. She usually knitted jumpers for the boys or waistcoats for Richard, her husband, to wear to work. Richard seemed to get through a lot of waistcoats at work; he was always catching them on something and ripping holes in them.

The four of them were all sat together, in their usual chairs, in the sitting room and watching the Boxing Day evening film. This year it was some nonsense about dinosaurs and that American actress Raquel Walsh, but Margaret wasn’t really watching it, it was just noise in the background.

Today was Boxing Day. Christmas would be soon over and she could finally catch her breath. Christmas was such a busy time for her, she had to organise it all, it again all fell upon her to do so. Richard had always made it clear that running their home was her business. He worked, and he saw that as his duty. He’d come home from work, each evening, sit in his armchair and barely move from there.

It had been down to her to buy all their Christmas presents, fortunately the boys were always easy to buy for, and to organise their Christmas dinner. She didn’t have to just buy all the food for it, but she had to cook it all too. That year they had a full table again for Christmas dinner. There were her parents and Richard’s father, as every year, but there was also Richard’s brother Colin, who had left his wife that summer, and Richard’s work colleague Peter. Peter’s parents now lived in Edinburgh, he hadn’t been able to return there for Christmas and would have spent the day alone, so Richard had invited him to their Christmas dinner. Margaret had invited her sister Barbara, who was again single, breaking up with another boyfriend in early October. That year their Christmas Day dinner table had been very full.

She’d spent the whole morning in the kitchen cooking, and she was already tired when they finally sat down to eat. Margaret had just wanted to eat her dinner in peace, but as always, before they had even begun their main course, the table had fallen into another argument. This time it was started by her own sister. Barbara had read that book The Female Eunuch again and was again was telling off all the men at the table for oppressing women. Richard and Colin were defending men in general, though not very well, and Margaret’s mother kept telling Barbara that she wouldn’t get a man with talk like that, all of which only spurred Barbara on.

By the time they reached their Christmas pudding the table had fallen into a kind of cold war, with Richard, Colin and their fathers talking too loudly about football. At that point Barbara had seemed to realise that Peter was at the table too and had started flirting with him, though Peter was blindly ignoring her. Margaret had silently just eaten her pudding. She hated Christmas. As a mother, there was always so much work involved, and yet no one seemed to notice what she did. She would have all the washing up left to her as always.

Over the previous months Barbara had been going on and on about that book, The Female Eunuch. To hear Barbara talk this was the most important book ever written, more important than the Bible and Shakespeare. Barbara said that reading that book had turned around her life. Barbara said that it had opened her eyes to how oppressed women were by their society. Margaret didn’t feel particularly oppressed, her life was ordered and comfortable, but she had agreed with what Barbara said just to keep her happy. Barbara’s life was always so up and down that Margaret constantly felt sorry for her. That Christmas Barbara had actually given her a copy of The Female Eunuch, as a present. Margaret had left it on her bedside table, with all the other books she meant to read.

"Look at the knockers on her," Gary said.

Margaret’s ears picked up at the sound of the boy’s voice. Again he was trying to show off. She’d had enough of his behaviour at the Christmas dinner table.

"Don't be crude," she snapped, not bothering looking up from her knitting, she’d had a belly full of this nonsense from him yesterday.

"But Raquel Welch has a great set of melons," Gary protested.

“And that’s all this film has got; its complete rubbish,” Margaret replied, now looking up from her knitting. She tried to fix Gary with a look, but his full attention was still on the television screen.

“They’ve got it quite realistic,” Richard said, shifting in his chair. She felt her patience being stretched. Richard was again siding with Gary; sometimes she wished he would just back her up with the boys.

“For Pete’s sake! Dinosaurs and people never lived at the same time. I’ve helped our sons with their homework enough times to know that,” she said, putting her knitting down. She knew why Richard wanted to watch this awful film, and he was shamelessly telling the boys so.

“It’s a harmless bit of fun,” Richard said. Gary slumped back onto the sofa, his face falling into his usual sulking expression.

“No, it’s rubbish. There’s no story to it. You lot only want to watch it for that Raquel Welch,” she snapped. She had had it. It was bad enough that they had to watch this nonsense, but she wasn’t having her husband and both her sons openly ogling that Raquel Welch.

“Yeah, and she’s a bit of all right,” Gary said.

“You shouldn’t be thinking like that at fifteen,” she said. The boy’s language was getting out of hand.

“I’m sixteen next month,” Gary protested.

“And don’t I know it,” she said. She couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice.

“The lad’s only showing a natural interest,” Richard added.

“You three are all the same,” she said, casting a dark look over all three of them. They were only watching that awful film for one reason, that Raquel Welch in that ridiculously small costume, and she was fed up with it.

“I should change the channel from this nonsense,” she said to the whole room. She should as well, she told herself. The Christmas holiday had all been about what those three wanted; they were even watching only this awful film because those three wanted to watch it. Not once had they even asked her what she wanted to watch.

“No, mum,” Gary protested. “It’s a really good film… Isn’t it?” He directed his last comment at his brother.

“It’s boring,” Karl replied, giving a little shrug of his shoulders.

“What do you know, sissy!” Gary snapped back as he punched Karl on the arm.

“Hey,” Karl shouted and then sank back into the sofa.

Margaret opened her mouth to again tell them off but stopped. What was the point? No one in the room seemed to be listening to her; her voice seemed to be drowned out by that Raquel Welch’s cleavage.

As she returned to her knitting, Margaret wondered if there was something in that Female Eunuch book. She would have to start reading it tonight.