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How Not To Get An Irish Lass

Ray Culley volunteered for the Royal Canadian Navy when war broke out and found himself in the thick of the action on the Atlantic runs between Canada and Derry as part of the escort convoys which protected the merchant fleet. Often chsed by uboats the lads were delighted to reach Ireland for a few days shore leave.
This story is taken from his book about his wartime experiences ‘His Memories will Survive’

My ‘shore- going’ ship mates were all on red watch, so we had to wait for white watch to return aboard, to find out where the action was in Londonderry. They informed us that a local dance hall was open nightly. They also told us the local Irish Lasses looked favourably on Canadian sailors. However, it depended on what we had to barter(chocolate bars, gum, canned food etc). Needless to say, there was a quite a run on our small canteen, as each seamen loaded up on ‘goodies’

Yours truly didn’t want to leave anything to chance, so ventured to the galley and when the cook wasn’t looking, pilfered a pond of butter. I proceeded ashore with my prize barter in my Burberry pocket.

We made the trip to more than one pub, and took off for the dance hall. The dance was well under way, but it did not take me long to notice a very attractive girl in a bright red dress. The lass had a line-up waiting to dance with her, so I dutifully stood in line to await my turn. In due time my turn arrived. The lass was a very good dancer (as was I ), so we had more than one dance and the line-up dwindled. The dance floor was crowded with sweating sailors jitterbugging and swinging, the heat of the hall was stifling.

On cue she asked me if I wished to walk her home, but first wanted to know what I had to offer. With great pride I said ‘ a pound of butter’ where uopn she introduced herself as Renee Dalrumple and said ‘lets get out of here sailor. ‘Renee waited while I left the cloakroom to retrieve my Burberry. I put it on and rushed to her side. Renee took one look at me and grabbed the closest sailor and stormed off.

Everyone near me started to snicker and point at me. I looked down to see a large wet greasy mess on the front of my Burberry. The damn butter had melted.

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