January 2012
'A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet.' (Will Rogers)
I first saw him, sitting at the large corner table in my local pub, 'The cat and mouse' (used to be the Red Lion – but you know what these national pub-chain corporations are like.)
He was one of those persons who just attracted people to gather round, rather like moths to a flame. I sat at a nearby table with my usual glass of imported, super-strength, super priced, German lager and could not help but listen.
There was the murmur of general conversation, interspersed with the occasional shriek of laughter from one of the women.
But, after what seemed an ominous pause the stranger started to address his new-found audience in a low, rhythmic, voice.
'I suppose you could say I got off to a bad start; as a baby I was abducted by a member of a touring circus company. My mother had left me outside a telephone box for a few minutes. When she came out there was only the still warm pram to show I ever existed. Of course, that dramatic incident meant nothing to me at the time; one pair of arms being much the same as another.
My earliest proper memories were of appearing as a trainee clown's assistant as the circus travelled from place to place around Britain and Europe. By this time, at the age of seven or eight, I thought I had always belonged to the company.
With the passing of time, and as I began to feel more independent, I developed doubts as to my long-term future. Finally I decided I wanted a different kind of life and started to make plans. I didn't think the circus would be happy to see me go as I suppose I was, by now, of considerable value to them. I would just have to pack a few things and make my escape when a good opportunity arose.
My first chance came quite soon. We were to start our spring season in the south of France and our first stop was at Marseilles. After we had all joined in setting up the Big Top and other equipment a few of us spent some time looking around the city.
I couldn't help noticing the many brightly coloured posters advertising something called the French Foreign Legion, with illustrations of smart and heroic looking, sun-tanned young soldiers.
Making a sudden decision, I slipped away from my companions and made my way to the address shown on the posters. With some trepidation, I entered a dim and dusty room located in a run-down office block near the harbour. A ceiling fan rotated with a periodic squeak while slowly stirring the humid and smoke-laden air.
A sweaty sergeant, seated at an untidy desk, looked up from his newspaper with no attempt to conceal his mixture of boredom and contempt (another dreamer, he thought). Anyway, after barely an hour, I found myself recruited into a four year tour of duty in the Legion. I was given a railway and ferry warrant with a sheet of instructions and told to report at the Wadi el Maadi basic training depot at 8.00am the following Tuesday.
I didn't know what I was letting myself in for; but I soon found out. In those days the main purpose of the Legion was to police and control the more remote regions of the French colonies, such as they still were. Many adventures, some considerably risky, were to follow while we tried to keep the various hostile tribes away from each other and from the scattered rural populations. From time to time we were required to attend ceremonial occasions, with much flag waving and martial music, in Metropolitan France; a welcome break from the harsh conditions in the desert locations.
They say the Legion will either make or break you. Maybe I was just lucky but I survived my time, relatively intact, and I suppose a lot fitter, harder, and wiser than when I started.
A chance meeting, during my last few months of service was to have far reaching consequences. Asaf, though hard to believe at first, was, in fact, the son of a rich and powerful Asian prince. His family had pushed him into joining the Legion in the hope that, taking him away from his play-boy, jet-setting life style for a while might be character building and turn him into a more balanced and sensible person.
As with most people from his privileged type of background he had far more money than he knew how to spend (certainly when he was stuck in a North African desert.)
However he was full of grand plans and schemes. Although we were from entirely different backgrounds he, somehow, regarded me as a close friend and confidant.
One evening over a nice cup of cocoa he looked earnestly at me and said, 'Tom, I have a great idea of what we could do when we finish our service here. Years ago an old uncle of mine acquired the leases and rights to several parcels of land in Europe. They were very cheap at the time because the locations were remote and undeveloped; now however many of them have become popular luxury holiday resorts. Uncle considers himself too old to realize the potential of these sites-and has decided to hand over all the rights to me, as a sort of birthday present.
'Now, with your better English, you could be a great help to me in dealing mainly with American companies and clients; you wouldn't find me ungenerous when it came to salary and perks. What do you think?'
Well, what could I lose?
Anyway, over the following, very busy, years our enterprise (which, by the way, we registered as 'Legion Leisure Corporation') went from strength to strength. We now have eleven major holiday and convention complexes around the World; from the Mediterranean through the Gulf States and as far as some pilot schemes in Australia.
Asaf recently made me a partner, with a large increase in salary and nearly a million in share options!
So, I can't complain, considering my start as a baby being snatched from a pram.
During a pause, while some-one went to fetch some more drinks, young Mary, wide-eyed with amazed attention and admiration, ventured to speak, 'Tom, that's a really great story; did all those things happen just like that?'
Suddenly Tom's usual confident and assertive manner seemed to evaporate, and, in a much quieter voice he replied, 'Well, I have never told anyone this before but I must confess now; none of what I said is true, I made it all up.' An embarrassed silence spread around the table. 'Many years ago I noticed that no-one seemed at all interested in me or my real life story – so one day I decided to invent something more exciting and interesting. It has served me well over time. Although, of course, I could never tell that tale to anyone who knew me, I kept it in reserve as something I was able to use as a Stranger's Story'
There was another short pause, but then William spoke up 'Never mind Tom. Thanks for being so honest with us. Have another drink.'