{"id":2150,"date":"2025-03-01T10:51:00","date_gmt":"2025-03-01T09:51:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/?p=2150"},"modified":"2025-06-12T17:52:18","modified_gmt":"2025-06-12T15:52:18","slug":"frank-chapter-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/?p=2150","title":{"rendered":"Frank: Chapter One"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Frank: Chapter One<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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This is the true story of Frank, born in 1906, the youngest of three children, and their devout parents, who worshipped each Sunday in their local Baptist Church on the outskirts of London. Frank was a reserved little boy, with a dry sense of humour, and was conditioned to be dutiful, loyal and long-suffering, an attribute which lingered on as his hallmark to the end of his days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The entire family were enveloped in the Church community and when his siblings found their respective mates in the Church, Frank came under pressure to snap up a young lass for himself as well. There was one tepid, young girl called Elsie, who seemed to be on permanent standby, and who was frequently suggested by his anxious parents. There was no apparent stampede for her, and Frank held back as long as he reasonably could, voicing other commitments. Finally, to keep the peace, he agreed to invite her for a glass of orangeade or walk in the park, without further commitment. But after several months of these uneventful jaunts, he found himself under renewed pestering from his parents to \u2018do the right thing\u2019. Reluctantly, he agreed to clinch the deal, before someone else snapped her up, a likelihood which seemed remote to Frank at the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And so it was, that under no specific illusion, Frank rather half-heartedly popped the question to Elsie. She instantly accepted so dramatically, that he had to warn her that it would be some years before he would have sufficient savings to offer her the home she expected. Soon the deal was sealed with an announcement in the local paper and a cluster of small diamonds on her left hand. Thus, a tedious Victorian style of engagement followed, where Frank was now allowed to hold Elsie\u2019s hand on their walk home from Church on Sundays. Shortly after this event, Frank\u2019s firm decided to transfer him to their branch in Birmingham. In the meantime, Elsie was still living at home, and dreaming and waiting for her new life with Frank. She was keen to accumulate items for her \u2018bottom drawer\u2019 and wait for his savings to increase sufficiently in Birmingham, so she enlisted the help of her many aunts, to make embroider initials on sheets and pillowcases, for her future home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His new environment was an undeniable upgrading for Frank, without the domestic constraints of his parents\u2019 home and the incessant demands of his bride-to-be. It suited Frank, living in his little bedsit, to go to lectures and films and read books to his heart\u2019s content, a pastime which had thus far been denied him. In fact, he had become so interested and immersed in Japanese life and culture, that he himself started giving lectures on the subject, to increasingly interested audiences. These intellectual and cultural evenings began to draw ever more public into the events he arranged in his spare time. He was charming, humorous and interesting, giving him recognition and respect previously unknown too him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the meantime, he was progressing splendidly at work and his boss was delighted with this new member of staff, who could charm his clients into investments not previously anticipated. Neither had it gone unnoticed, that the boss\u2019s daughter, Fiona, whose professional vocation lay in quite a different area, found herself visiting her father\u2019s business ever more frequently. And so it was, that despite his marital intentions back home, the flicker of desire mysteriously mutated quite quickly into an intense appetite, for both Frank and his Fiona.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over the course of the next few months, Frank\u2019s requisite visits back home became more sporadic and perfunctory, and his fianc\u00e9e was becoming increasingly disconcerted. One weekend, she took it upon herself to take a train up to Birmingham and see for herself, the root of her perceived problem. Talk about, caught in the act! Frank was discovered in a caf\u00e9 across the road from his place of work, in a deep t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate with Fiona, at a small round table, allowing an almost intimate proximity to each other. Looking through the window, Elsie could hardly contain her intense shock \u2013 the moonstruck couple were audaciously holding hands, right next to the plate of biscuits. She could hardly contain her dismay, and marching unabashedly into the coffee house, she challenged the tense Frank with unabridged fury. Poor Frank! You had to feel compassion for this na\u00efve young man, confronted with this abrupt situation. He retracted his hand from the table, gave a heart-wrenching glance at his lover, and stood up. With all the speed of a robber in flight, he took Elsie by the elbow and steered her seamlessly out of the caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next hour or so was a psychological test in diplomacy, while Frank tried to pacify the hysterical bride-to-be. Finally, he had no other choice. Seeing the woman he so desperately loved, in close vicinity with the woman he felt ensnared by, he made an instant decision and as calmly as possible faced his demons. He explained that he was intending to take the train that very evening down to London, and admit to Elsie, that with great regret, he had to break off their engagement. He pulled himself up to his full height, and told her that he had not planned for things to develop this way, but it was best in the long run, to allow Elsie the chance to find Mr. Right, who he assured her, was probably waiting in the wings, as he spoke. With that, he handed her his large pocket handkerchief to mop up her tears and steered her back towards the train station. He helped her to agonizingly wait for the next train back down to London. It was a distraught Elsie, travelling alone in the train, contemplating all the hand towels and serviettes embroidered with their entwined initials, by various Aunts, that would need to be unpicked to use again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The phrase that came to mind as an addendum to this first stage of \u2018Frank\u2019:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the perspective of Frank: \u2018A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the perspective of Elsie: \u2018Don\u2019t count your chickens before they hatch\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this point in time, Fiona\u2019s perspective is still open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just wait for the next stirring instalment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Photo: Pexels \/ Wolfgang Weiser<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Frank: Chapter One This is the true story of Frank, born in 1906, the youngest of three children, and their devout parents, who worshipped each Sunday in their local Baptist Church on the outskirts of London. Frank was a reserved little boy, with a dry sense of humour, and was conditioned to be dutiful, loyal […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2151,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,6,185],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2150","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-adoption","category-all-topics","category-odds-sods"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2150","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2150"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2150\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2153,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2150\/revisions\/2153"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2151"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2150"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2150"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humble-thoughts.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2150"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}