I had a surprise visit from an old boyfriend over the Bank Holiday. Well, I say it was a surprise but it wasn't really all that surprising as I am living in the same cul-de-sac where he grew up and where his parents still live. I'd seen his parents around and they'd told him where I was living - which is a bit of surprise for all concerned (including me!!) Anyway, although he now lives in London, his Dad is none too well so he was down to visit when he called in to see me.
We went out together for about a year when I was 16 and he was 17 and he was my first boyfriend. We have met up again several times since then - the last time being well over 20 years ago as it was before I'd met P - and it is lovely that we seem to be able to pick up conversations and stories as if all the years in between have never happened. Though when we compared ourselves to a photo he had on his phone of us in our 'youf' it was easy to see the toll the years have taken on us both. He is now totally white haired and I have to hobble round with a walking stick.
That photo has really brought home to me how soddin' old I'm getting - though as was pointed out, it was 37 years ago when we went out together so it's not surprising we've both changed a great deal. I'd love to show the photo on here but Typepad is still refusing to allow me to put photos on the blog. I really must do something about that ASAP or pack in blogging altogether - which I am thinking of doing, anyway.
It's a funny old world, ain't it? I never in a million years thought I'd end up living just a few doors down from my ex-boyfriends family home. Nor did I ever think when I was 16 that I'd become the wrinkled old bat hobbling round on a stick that I seem to have turned into. Ah, to be sweet sixteen again and have all your life ahead of you. I'm pretty sure it was Oscar Wilde who said 'youth is wasted on the young,' how bloody right he was!!