One Chance by Paul Potts Page B

learning about these films, and it rarely felt like work at all.
    Philosophy was one of my favourite subjects for a different reason. It was genuinely challenging, yet there was never a right or a wrong answer. We were free to have open debates, and we studied things as varied as the Thatcher years and their relationship to morality, and whether her successor John Major’s “classless society” was an achievable aim. I think by far the most difficult book I studied in philosophy was Søren Kierkegaard’s Either/Or . I’m not sure I ever got my head round that one!
    During this time, Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait was about to become all-out war. It was a worrying time because mybrother John was on HMS Gloucester . The Gloucester was to play a major part in the war, taking out an Exocet missile that had been aimed at the British fleet; it was also the ship that would have had to sacrifice itself if the USS Missouri was targeted.
    As the war started, I was shocked at the jingoistic attitude amongst some of the students; to get extra money they had signed up to be reservists, and now they were scared they would be sent to war. I was concerned for my brother, whom I knew was in harm’s way. I was listening to a lot of Chris de Burgh’s music at the time, and on a piece of paper I wrote out part of his song “Borderline,” which talked about the futility of war, and taped it to my room door. It upset me when someone wrote underneath it that those in the armed forces were meant to lay down their lives for their country. It was a challenging time, but thankfully John returned unscathed three months later.
    In the early evenings of my first few months at college, I could often be found waiting for the phone at the porter’s lodge. This was before widely available mobile phones, so anyone who wanted to make a call joined the queue for one of the hall of residence’s few call boxes. I’d have my phone card with me, something I seemed to be spending a small fortune on at the beginning of college. All of which was because, with my typical sense of timing, I had got into a relationship just before I went to university.
    Allison was the daughter of some family friends. She was pretty, funny, fairly outgoing, and had very fair skin and red hair. I’d always had a thing for redheads, and I went out on a limb and asked Allison out on a Sunday after the communion service. Iwaited by the church while Allison came back from helping her mum at Sunday school.
    â€œHi,” I said, somewhat awkwardly.
    â€œHi,” she replied.
    â€œFancy watching a film later in the week?”
    â€œSure,” she replied, to my huge relief. “What’s showing?”
    Allison was only the second girl I had been out with. My first relationship had been with Helen, a girl at Redcliffe school, and we were together for eighteen months. My father didn’t approve, and we had a number of arguments about her. When we split up, I didn’t tell him, as I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I thought it was perhaps just because he didn’t like Helen, but he had the same attitude toward Allison. We quickly became very close, and this bothered my father as he felt that our relationship might put the families’ friendship in jeopardy. This left me feeling that I couldn’t win. He also seemed to think that if I met someone, then I would somehow move away from our own family.
    One particular date early on became memorable for all the wrong reasons: I was due to see Alli at the Golden Lion pub on Frenchay Common, and cycled into the centre of Bristol beforehand as I needed get a few odds and ends. I cycled down the main cycle route that ran on a disused railway. I got to the Lawrence Hill area, and was making good speed, when suddenly I was on the ground: I had collided head-on with a mountain bike.
    The other guy’s wheel was buckled but apart from that, unharmed. My