I was in the rear carriage of a District Line train returning from work one evening in 1992. The rear carriage is the fashionable one from which residents living near Gloucester Road and Barons Court debauch.
On this occasion I saw the father of my godson. Frankly, I eyed him with some apprehension as I had noticed a tendency for him to shout at me half the length of a carriage in language that can only be described as tumbril talk and in an accent, not so much plum in mouth, as whole fruit bowl. He told me he was taking time out from the City to go on an expedition, like Pooh, of which more later. He needed to raise funds, could I help? “Pencil me in for five?”, I ventured. “£5 quid won’t go far”, he guffawed to the amusement of the carriage. “Actually, I was thinking in terms of £5,000” I murmured.
“We are all going on an Expedition,” said Christopher Robin.
“Going on an Expotition?” said Pooh eagerly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on one of those. Where are we going to on this Expotition?”
“Expedition, silly old bear. It’s got an “x” in it.”
“Oh!” said Pooh. “I know.” But he didn’t really.
“We’re going to discover the North Pole.”
“Oh!” said Pooh again. “What is the North Pole?” he asked.
“It’s just a thing you discover,” said Christopher Robin carelessly, not being quite sure himself.
“Oh! I see” said Pooh. (Winnie-the-Pooh, AA Milne)
He did go on his expedition and I did find £5,000 to help him out.
(To be continued)
Surely “debouch” rather than “debauch”? Perhaps not.
Debauch or debouch? Actually in the context of Barons Court perhaps the former word is more apt.
Debauch, from the French verb desbauchier, meaning to scatter or disperse. Debouch would make sense in this context too.