It was difficult to establish my role at this reunion. For example, when KP and I disappeared to the ladies for an hour we felt terribly guilty, believing that we would be missed. However, when we emerged again afterwards, nobody seemed to have noticed our absence. In fact, very few people were interested in me at all. Just one of the teachers went through the motions of politely asking how I was keeping, and the single classmate who bothered to strike up a conversation with me only did so when she realised that I was one of the few there who would appreciate her job role at the University of Oxford.
Life wasn’t any easier with the men in my life. Now that TPR was out of the way, GB (a fellow Birmingham University graduate and ex-husband of my school friend JT) sped onto the scene like a budding actor desperate for the vacant part. Following an audition in the tiny terraced house that I shared with four other girls, he left to travel south in his car and I headed for the Hoppings on Newcastle Town Moor. Within minutes, however, GB had turned round and driven back again with the news that he couldn’t live without me.
This was all getting far too complicated, so I set off to seek the advice of JM. I found him dressed in a pale green cashmere jumper watching a film in an open-air auditorium. I approached him from behind and called “Guess who?” over his shoulder. He was delighted to see me, as was everyone else. Nobody cared that I had interrupted the performance. On the contrary, all welcomed my arrival. It must have been a terribly dull film.
Dreamaticus 