Wednesday 3 November 2010
Moving back to your home town can inevitably mean bumping into your past on a regular basis, old friends from school, boys you’ve snogged at the back of the arcades who are now fat balding men and girls who wanted to beat you up because you were not part of their gang who are now almost unrecognisable due to the absence of heavily hair sprayed perms. There’s no escaping it, well, not for the time being anyway.

It’s been great catching up with the group of girls I used to hang about with at school though. Many of them have come back to settle down with their families after being away and I’ve realised just how much I’ve missed them being part of my life. I suddenly feel part of something again. Of course seeing the majority of your friends settled down leaves you wondering whether you got lost somewhere amongst the map of life. Was there a wrong turning or a junction which I missed?

When I was ill with the doomed pregnancy my big brother handed me a book and told me to read it, “it’s a good book”, he said. “It’s about 2 people who meet and the different journeys they take over the next 20 years, you know, people taking different paths in life and where it leads them.” The first page of the book was set in Edinburgh so I immediately felt a connection. I was struggling to concentrate on anything though at that point and the thought of concentrating on a big novel was not particularly appealing. I’d only read a few pages when it got packed away with the rest of my belongings for the unwanted move back home. If I’m honest though, there was also a reluctance to read it. My relationship with Mr Rockstar was on a downward spiral, I was feeling extremely confused about everything and I felt lost. At times like that and usually when I am drunk and feeling lonely the same person always creeps into my thoughts, The Ace.

I can distinctly remember the first time I saw him, Safeways, Byres Road, Glasgow around the time of Euro ‘96. He was sporting fairish hair, cut in a mod style. He was tall and was wearing a leather motorcycling sports type jacket and he was going out with my friend, who looking back on it, had never been particularly nice to me.

I think perhaps a little part of me fell in love with him, at that point and it’s probably the closest I’ve ever come to love at first sight apart from Johnny Depp of course….

I can’t even remember if we spoke that day or the next time I saw him at my friend’s flat. I can remember him telling her off for clicking her false nails together though – funny the things that stick in your mind.

Shortly after that he finished with my friend. The nail clicking must have got to him.

It was an impromptu decision to go out following the defeat of England in the semi final that found me in the Art School on Renfrew Street. Myself, Martin and Dave had started the evening in the Grosvenor Lane drinking beer and I remember the constant laughing between the three of us. I also remember that upon realising we were going to be going out I had rushed back to my flat to change and only shaved the thigh part of my legs because I was wearing knee high boots and a mini skirt – nice.

The Art School was a haven of pretentious young things trying to out smart each other in the fashion stakes. You could be forgiven for thinking that you’d walked back in time when entering the ground floor. Everyone looked like a throw back from the 60s but in a very chic vintage way and the music matched the fashion. Naturally I went there for the talent and to dance beside guys who knew how to dance. It was very rare that I got to dance with them. I always felt like I could never get it quite right clothing wise. My outfit often consisted of a mix up of Top Shop and Miss Selfridge, or cheap high street sale items. I tried my best to work the retro look but you could tell I hadn’t been vintage shopping in Virginia Galleries like the others. I didn’t have that moth ball aroma.

The first floor was in complete contrast to the ground floor, thumping house music and people who appeared to be chewing their cheeks a lot. I liked both floors and flitted between the two that night. Somehow at the end of the night, when the crowds were spilling out onto the street I lost Martin and Dave. But as I looked for them amongst the surge of people around me I found someone else, there he was, The Ace.

We got talking, I have no idea what about but no doubt I made some reference to him dating my not so nice friend briefly to break the silence. Somehow we ended up walking all the way up Great Western Road back to my scabby basement flat. We lay there on the bed fully clothed facing each other just talking for what seemed ages about, well, I have no idea what about but while lying there I felt this unbelievably strong energy, it was like electricity was building up between us. Naturally there was a part of me which was also concerned about the fact I had only shaved half of my legs and that I would inevitably have to remove the boots which were concealing my fuzzy calves but regardless of that, I couldn’t get over this feeling that I was experiencing. It was all rather innocent, we weren’t even holding hands but there definitely seemed to be a strong connection between us. Of course who knows what The Ace was thinking at that point although I sincerely hope that later on it wasn’t along the lines of “Jesus, what hairy legs….!”

I had no idea if we would kiss at all that night and although I really wanted him to kiss me; I couldn’t help but worry that the magic might disappear. If he was a dreadful kisser it would have ruined the illusion. So I held back for as long as I could until it began to get light outside and the thought of my semi hairy legs reflecting the daylight across the room filled me with enough fear to take a chance on breaking the spell……

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Bird on a Wire
Imagine Carrie from Sex and the City morphed with Bridget Jones and a baby thrown in for added entertainment – that’s me, the ever optimistic romantic looking for my Mr Big but already with child! Read my blog from the beginning where I find out I am pregnant following a brief fling with my much older male colleague and fast forward to where I am now, stressed out working mum to my beautiful 10 year old daughter wondering if love really does in fact exist at first sight.
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