My
True Stories prompt today was powerful.
I caught a glimpse of it in my inbox,
"...we're talking about memory flashes." just as Cam and I approached
Radcliffe Camera, and I knew immediately what I would be writing about.
John was my first boyfriend. My first love. My first everything.
We met one drunken Halloween night where he later tried to unclip my bra in the backseat of a taxi (I didn't allow him!) before stumbling out of my life with my telephone number written on his palm.
He didn't call.
After the intial disappointment and bruised ego, I didn't really think about John again until this foggy, thick-as-pea-soup, evening in late November. I was out with two of my girlfriends, and we were all feeling a little cold and miserable, so were about to call it a night, when I heard someone say my name. It was John.
Well actually, I later discovered it wasn't John, but his mate Alastair instead, but that's by the by... Anyway, what followed was a suitably awkward exchange you would expect with the-boy-who-didn't-call, and we politely went our seperate ways.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, all the
Sweet Dreams novels I crammed in my earlier life came crashing into my reality, and I became possessed with this urgent need to find him again. Dragging my poor friends around the pubs of Oxford with me, I braved being asked for my ID (I was 15) with this bizarre and seemingly desperate urge.
Now maybe time, and too many movies, have exaggerated my memory here, but what happened next does play like a scene from a film to me. Jenny and Rachel were getting openly annoyed with me, so I had to concede to give up with one last attempt. It was
The Chequers and I see the scene as clear as day. I walked in and around the bar, towards the pool table in the middle of the room. There was an open arch beyond it and there, on the bench to the left, was John. The guy in front of me bent down to take his shot, the crowds parted, and John looked up...
This was the flashback I had today when I saw Radcliffe Camera. This was our spot. Before they put up the black railings which now keep you at a distance. This was where we would cuddle in the cold Winter nights, sharing our dreams, and stealing kisses. This is where the most memorable image I have of John is taken. Sitting in this arch, looking like James Dean, in his brown leather jacket.
This is where I first fell in love.
