What You Don't Know Won't Hurt You!

So after that, the next thing I can remember clearly was – me and Jimmy in his car, driving North, destination: Glencoe! It must have been a great fucking party, I know I was a bit tender down below (front and back both) and my lips were bruised and my face had a bit of a rash, probably with stubbly men snogging me, or their short and curlies rubbing me! Anyhow, I was in Seventh Heaven, or Cloud 9 – that's the kind of thing my Mum used to say when she was deliriously happy, which wasn't that often, you can guess. But, here I was, all alone with my very iown Hero, being driven by him up to his cottage: I'd heard about it, Martin and Doc Graham and Ronnie all spoke about the fun times up there, but I didn't expect much partying, just me and Jimmy – and sheep outside! He was so generous: whenever we stopped for petrol, or a coffee and something, he paid for everything (actually, I didn't have any money – I'd never needed any, the Men were always so willing to buy whatever I needed, or they wanted me to have, which I thouhght was so sweet and kind of them. They never asked for anything from me.
     And Jimmy wanted to discuss me and Jo going on Jim'll Fix It and said one of the producers and maybe one of his own assistants might come by, which would be good, because then he could finalise stuff for the show. Otherwise he did a lot of his business on the phone. But Mobile reception was patchy once we'd left the Central Belt and were going up the M9 or was it the M8 or M7 – what did I know? I wasn't driving and Jimmy was amazing: when his phone was working, he could talk to someone on it, talk to me, drive, smoke a cigar, sip some vodka he kept in a lemonade bottle, tell me about the history we were going past, point out where he'd walked for charity – all at the same time!
     And wherever we stopped, he was recognised and flocked by women and girls all wanting his autograph. I'm sure a lot of them were jealous when they saw that I was his travelling companion. Some of them asked me personal things about him, which made me feel a bit embarrassed, because I didn't want to tell them things I shouldn't (he'd never said how I should deal with that kind of thing, well, he probably didn't expect people to ask me things, after all, he was the Star) so I just made things up. Like for instance: “his favourite breakfast cereal is Coco Pops, his favourite drink is Pepsi Cola, he doesn't wear pyjamas in bed, he does a hundred Push-ups before breakfast and a hundred Sit-ups before bed, his favourite cigars are Havanas, his favourite TV shows are Top of the Pops, Eastenders, Coronation Street, Jim'll Fix It and Match of the Day, his most important people are His Mum, The Queen and Maggie Thatcher, and the one thing he'd really love to do would be to play for Leeds United in the FA Cup Final if someone could Fix It! For him.” So if you read any of that somewhere, it's probably because of me!
    
I even got my photos taken while Jimmy was talking to his fans, and trying to buy me some fags, or a can of Irn Bru – I felt rather self-conscious, bacause I wasn't anybody, I was just with Jimmy. And when girls asked me if Jimmy was good in bed, I blushed to my roots and said, “don't ask me, how should I know, I'm only 13!” and the girls would laugh and nudge each other and me and wink and ask me to ask Jimmy if they could come with us. Of course, I didn't. What did they take me for?