primary school in the neighbourhood shops across from my old home in
1984 or '85. ALEX LOWE by name, and as fine and decent a bloke as
you could ever hope to meet. We exchanged greetings, enquired after one
another's well-being, and then Alex asked: "Are you still living across the
road?", nodding in the direction of my previous abode. He was surprised
to learn that I'd moved away about twelve or thirteen years earlier, and
it made me wonder how many other people I knew still thought I
lived in a place I'd left almost half my life away at that point.
me recounting that he once appeared in our secondary school play as a
fairy, uttering the immortal lines: "I'm a fairy, bright and gay, helping
constantly quoted the lines back to him in lisping, falsetto voice over the
course of the next few terms. (I know I did, little bastich that I was.)
(in an epic exercise in tedium) wider themes than I actually have. For
example, what it is that draws us to our past and connects us to where
we came from, and whether or not it has any bearing on the direction we
take in life. Can a house in which we once stayed shape our perceptions
of ourselves, or would we be precisely the same as we are regardless of
the bricks and mortar which shield us from the elements? However, the
realisation has now dawned on me that it's simply too big a concept to
concisely and competently capture within the confines of a couple of
blog posts or so - in an interesting and entertaining way, at least.
Or, failing that, helped cure them of their insomnia.