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I’ve had a couple of messages over the past week from old friends from my Haven & Pontin’s days where I’ve been referred to as Johno. The following keeps popping up in my head…….

Me: Johno? Johno… Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time… A long time.
Junior: I think my uncle knows him. He said he was dead.
Me: Oh, he’s not dead… Not yet anyway.
Junior: You know him?
Me: Of course I know him….He’s me!
*pauses*
Me: I haven’t gone by the name of Johno since before you were born.
*looks away reflecting on the past…at Camber and Littlesea*
Me: I have something here for you. Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn’t allow it. He feared you might follow old Johno on some damn fool idealistic summer season show like your father did. It’s your father’s jacket. This is the weapon of a BlueCoat. Not as clumsy or as random as a Red Coat, but an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. For over a thousand generations, the BlueCoats were the guardians of fun and laughter in the Old Holiday Camps. Before the dark times. Before Ibiza.

But I am an old man and my powers are weak….

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