Let me introduce you to Helen Rice.
Blondie were number one in the charts, Mrs Thatcher had just been voted in to Number 10 Downing Street, and Saturday morning TV was dominated by Noel Edmunds and his Multi Coloured Swap Shop. Spacedust was very cool at school, and we loved Look-in and all things Star Wars and Abba.
The year was 1979, May in fact, and Helen?
Helen was first ever date.
A friend though my Dad's regular Sunday morning churchiness, she was a sweet, funny, slightly ungainly creature, taller than me, but fun to be with. Helen was the first object of my early teenage crushes, and I summoned up courage to ask here on a date. Our parents agreed, as she was clearly a suitable girl. Time would tell whether she was indeed a match.
Saturday arrived, Helen's parents came over for a drink and a canape or two, allowing the two lovebirds the opportunity to go for a walk together. We strolled off into the dusky Saturday night, holding hands and chirping away like feathered friends
We ended up at my middle school, Bective, where the 1930's exterior loomed ahead in the dark, amply surrounded by shrubs and conifers. This raised the exiting prospect of a kiss. Soon the moment of contact arrived. Lodged behind the art room, screened by a wallflower, I angled my head in the optimum smooch position, or so I thought, from watching Grease. Helen leant forward, puckered up and swooped down like a falcon rushing down on it's prey. Our lips missed and teeth knocked together, with a sudden jarring. Was this really passion? Yikes, more like pain and embarrassment. A quick fumble was now out of the question as Helen groaned. Nothing quells the teenage flames of desire than jarred teeth and a cut lip. We giggled and scampered away from the art room in the dark, Helen holding her jumper, me holding my Idiots guide to dating...
That then was my first date, an important event in my life. Another date arrives this week, as I finally get word from the hospital that the vein graft is scheduled for this coming Wednesday.
Wonderful news.
Helen and I drifted apart soon after our date, and the last I heard she had become a nurse. Lets hope she has not moved to New Zealand and now works in the vascular surgery ward in Auckland, rostered to work next Wednesday to Friday..............
The year was 1979, May in fact, and Helen?
Helen was first ever date.
A friend though my Dad's regular Sunday morning churchiness, she was a sweet, funny, slightly ungainly creature, taller than me, but fun to be with. Helen was the first object of my early teenage crushes, and I summoned up courage to ask here on a date. Our parents agreed, as she was clearly a suitable girl. Time would tell whether she was indeed a match.
Saturday arrived, Helen's parents came over for a drink and a canape or two, allowing the two lovebirds the opportunity to go for a walk together. We strolled off into the dusky Saturday night, holding hands and chirping away like feathered friends
Wonderful news.
Helen and I drifted apart soon after our date, and the last I heard she had become a nurse. Lets hope she has not moved to New Zealand and now works in the vascular surgery ward in Auckland, rostered to work next Wednesday to Friday..............
No comments:
Post a Comment