How lovely to see you Mr Bond

On 24th July Club member Trevor Bond shared some of his experiences with the surname Bond. Trevor’s namesake was of course Ian Fleming’s fictional James Bond. Whether travelling on business or pleasure, at the check-in desk, the departure gate, passport control or hotel reception, the scenario would follow the film script: Trevor hands his documents to a lovely lady behind the desk. She smiles: “Welcome Mr Bond”, a short pause and then “James?”. The most recent occurrence? Yesterday, when he and Jan enjoyed a 63rd wedding anniversary meal, with the table reserved in the name of Bond – too much for the waitress to resist.

Trevor then proceeded to give us a “Homer’s Odyssey” (that’s the Greek hero, not the TV Simpson) of highlights from his international travel experiences, some of which could easily have been scenes from a Bond movie.

Scene 1:

 As Sports Editor of the Sunday Telegraph, Trevor is on a trip to Jerez, Andalucia organised by the Domecq dynasty, promoting their sponsorship of equestrian events. The group is invited to a party at the Domecq palace – 300 guests, hosted by Don Alvaro (think wedding scene from ‘The Godfather’). Having scanned the guest list, the Don’s lovely wife seeks out our hero – “How lovely to see you Mr Bond”…

Scene 2: 

South Africa: an undercover trip at the height of Apartheid, to interview politicians, journalists and sports leaders. Two contrasting quotes: Ali Bacher (SA cricket captain) – “White or black, we will always pick our best team”; Danie Craven (SA Rugby Union Director) – “No black man will ever play in my national rugby team as long as I live”. Mr Bond, you must choose, but choose wisely.

Scene 3:

A sports conference in Isfahan, Iran, shortly after the Shah has been deposed. On a tour of the city, Trevor asks the guide if the people still wish for the Shah”. Our hero immediately knows he is in trouble – “You must not mention that name – it is dangerous”. That evening there's an ominous knock on his hotel room door. But it’s not an arrest. His host hands him a black coke bottle, whispering “When you’ve finished it, put it in a bin in the street, not in your room”. Suffice to say, in a dry country, the liquid inside was the water of life, not ‘The Real Thing’. Mr Bond was a little shaken but, having drained the bottle, he did not stir until morning.

Scene 4:

A group of travel writers are on a cruise ship heading for Manilla, when a Mayday call comes in. The captain diverts and picks up the survivors. Trevor interviews many of them and submits a ship-to-shore report to the Mail on Sunday, who ask for photographs. Out comes Trevor’s trusty Olympus. A dash to the Reuters office on arrival at Manilla: the film is developed and the best shots are transmitted to London. Our hero gets the scoop! Trevor jumps into a taxi to get from Reuters to his hotel. “You want woman, Mr Bond” asks the taxi driver - repeatedly. “No thank you” insists Trevor. Sometimes it’s best if fact doesn’t follow fiction.

Scene 5:

Our hero is sat with his wife on the patio of the Luxor Sheraton at the end of a relaxing Nile cruise. Suddenly, a female voice booms from behind: “Mr Bond, you have not yet paid me for last night”. Turning, he sees the woman in question in fits of laughter. He recognises her as the wife of a journalist colleague who has a reputation for practical jokes. The four of them enjoy an afternoon of drinks on the patio (fade to black). 

So there you have it, a life in the shadow of a surname. A life which might have been a little less exciting, less embarrassing and less fun if that surname hadn’t been Bond.