I must admit that until the advent of social media, I was in contact with absolutely no one from my schooldays or brief foray into further education. That situation has now changed to a certain extent, and it’s nice to occasionally share a memory or two with someone who knew me when I only had one chin.
When I was forced to look for work back in 2014, I registered on a business-related social networking site in the faint hope that fortune might flash a smile in my direction. Curiosity also got the better of me, and I took the opportunity to search for some names of former school classmates to see what they had done with their lives. And, more importantly, to see how many chins they’d acquired.
The people I found had all done well for themselves. I suppose that success was probably a pre-requisite for registering on the site in the first place. I did feel like the odd one out for a while – just as I had when I was at school. Back in those days, fees to attend what was a private school were waived in respect of sons of teachers (girls joined the sixth form for the first time in the late 1970s).
By definition, then, all the other pupils came from families whose financial situation presumably ranged from comfortably off to loaded. Their backgrounds and lives were very different to mine, and in hindsight, it’s no real surprise that there were certain people to whom I felt unable to relate. Evoking, albeit unintentionally, those long-suppressed feelings was a mistake (my fault for looking), and, as soon as I managed to get another job, I deleted my account.
During that time, though, I was contacted by Andrew Powles, who was a contemporary at St Peter’s, one of the few people with whom I socialised outside school. I most definitely classed him as a friend. It was really good to hear from him and we began to exchange emails and keep up-to-date with each other’s news. When Andrew brought his family to Harrogate for a short break during the Easter holidays, it was an ideal opportunity for me to make the short journey down to see him.
Meeting Andrew was different to almost all of the other tasks I’d completed up to that point. I had spent so much time planning and ticking specific tasks off the list, but this time the task was purely incidental. Having the chance to catch up with an old friend I hadn’t seen for something like 35 years was what mattered.
I’ve said before that even the closest of friends can essentially become strangers over time. But thankfully, when lives briefly converge, even fading memories of similar or shared experiences can compensate for the intervening years – and so it proved when I met Andrew. Of course, it was slightly surreal when he appeared. I recognised him, but when he spoke I realised I had no recollection of what his voice sounded like.
The conversation flowed effortlessly (or at least that was how it felt). Two hours passed quickly and from my perspective at least it was a hugely enjoyable evening. Andrew messaged me the following day to say pretty much the same and, for once, the tick that followed felt almost totally irrelevant.
When I was forced to look for work back in 2014, I registered on a business-related social networking site in the faint hope that fortune might flash a smile in my direction. Curiosity also got the better of me, and I took the opportunity to search for some names of former school classmates to see what they had done with their lives. And, more importantly, to see how many chins they’d acquired.
The people I found had all done well for themselves. I suppose that success was probably a pre-requisite for registering on the site in the first place. I did feel like the odd one out for a while – just as I had when I was at school. Back in those days, fees to attend what was a private school were waived in respect of sons of teachers (girls joined the sixth form for the first time in the late 1970s).
By definition, then, all the other pupils came from families whose financial situation presumably ranged from comfortably off to loaded. Their backgrounds and lives were very different to mine, and in hindsight, it’s no real surprise that there were certain people to whom I felt unable to relate. Evoking, albeit unintentionally, those long-suppressed feelings was a mistake (my fault for looking), and, as soon as I managed to get another job, I deleted my account.
During that time, though, I was contacted by Andrew Powles, who was a contemporary at St Peter’s, one of the few people with whom I socialised outside school. I most definitely classed him as a friend. It was really good to hear from him and we began to exchange emails and keep up-to-date with each other’s news. When Andrew brought his family to Harrogate for a short break during the Easter holidays, it was an ideal opportunity for me to make the short journey down to see him.
Meeting Andrew was different to almost all of the other tasks I’d completed up to that point. I had spent so much time planning and ticking specific tasks off the list, but this time the task was purely incidental. Having the chance to catch up with an old friend I hadn’t seen for something like 35 years was what mattered.
I’ve said before that even the closest of friends can essentially become strangers over time. But thankfully, when lives briefly converge, even fading memories of similar or shared experiences can compensate for the intervening years – and so it proved when I met Andrew. Of course, it was slightly surreal when he appeared. I recognised him, but when he spoke I realised I had no recollection of what his voice sounded like.
The conversation flowed effortlessly (or at least that was how it felt). Two hours passed quickly and from my perspective at least it was a hugely enjoyable evening. Andrew messaged me the following day to say pretty much the same and, for once, the tick that followed felt almost totally irrelevant.