readily available social activities. Though most of my Birmingham friends had moved on, the few that remained did so because this was the town that they had moved to for university and had now adopted as their own. Out in Moseley one Saturday night with my friend Monica, I was introduced to Sam. Sam had long straight shoulder-length auburn hair, grey-green eyes and a cheeky smile that seemed even cheekier once she started talking with her broad Yorkshire accent. Though she dressed like a student (in all the time I knew her I don’t think I ever saw her wear anything other than jeans or cords) she actually worked for the local dole office and had moved down to Birmingham from Keighley a few years earlier to be with her boyfriend.
I can’t really remember what we talked about although I suspect that at some point we must have discussed the fact that she came from Keighley because I’d visited Brontë country with a couple of university mates only a few months before and had walked all the way from Keighley to Top Withens which was supposed to be the location of the main house in Wuthering Heights . I used to like to think the fact that I had ticked Wuthering Heights off my To-Do List of places to visit marked me out as some kind of literary romantic but I suspect that it actually marked me out as someone who needed to get out more.
After the pub we all went to a nightclub called Snobs, but then Monica had some kind of melt-down to do with her boyfriend so Sam and I spent the evening hanging out together. Sometime in the early hours of Sunday morning most of the group left but Sam and I decided to go for a walk at about three in the morning. We were both tired and more than a bit cold but we headed to Cannon Hill Park and ended up sitting on the swings talking about everything and nothing as though we’d known each other forever. From that moment onwards we were firm friends.
Sam’s message to me via Facebook perfectly captured the essence of the person I knew back then.
It’s you! How are you? I’ve been hoping that one day you’d pop out of the woodwork! I’m well, thanks, living in Leeds, working in IT and driving a Ford Fiesta! Still like good music though. Tell me your news! Seethee, Sam x
Though it was short it was both warm and funny (I particularly liked that word ‘seethee’ as though she were an eighty-year-old Yorkshireman). I replied outlining everything that had happened to me since we had last seen each other (the best part of fourteen years ago) and suggested that we meet up. Within a few minutes I received the following message:
Would absolutely love it if you came up to see me! How long has it been? Feels like forever. Whatever day you fancy just let me know and I’ll book the day off work and cancel my spin class (I go most days after work). Give my love to your Missus and your very, very, very cute kids! Sam x
A short flurry of emails later we’d arranged a date.
It was just after eleven a.m. on the last Wednesday in January when I found myself standing in front of the departure board at Leeds railway station scanning the hundreds of faces milling around on the concourse. There were girls of every sort but not one matched the face that I had pictured in my head. Suddenly there she was: the long auburn air was now bobbed, the silver nose stud gone and her skinny frame, though fuller, was more healthy looking (this version of Sam didn’t look for a moment as though it survived on a diet of Silk Cut and microwave pizza rolls). The only thing that remained unchanged were the clothes (less obviously studenty but still recognisably Sam’s style), her smiling eyes and the filthy big grin. For a moment I was speechless because it really was the weirdest sensation to see someone whom you’d once seen practically every day for a year after a fourteen-year gap. I was expecting to see the Sam that I’d known then and though the person in front of me
I can’t really remember what we talked about although I suspect that at some point we must have discussed the fact that she came from Keighley because I’d visited Brontë country with a couple of university mates only a few months before and had walked all the way from Keighley to Top Withens which was supposed to be the location of the main house in Wuthering Heights . I used to like to think the fact that I had ticked Wuthering Heights off my To-Do List of places to visit marked me out as some kind of literary romantic but I suspect that it actually marked me out as someone who needed to get out more.
After the pub we all went to a nightclub called Snobs, but then Monica had some kind of melt-down to do with her boyfriend so Sam and I spent the evening hanging out together. Sometime in the early hours of Sunday morning most of the group left but Sam and I decided to go for a walk at about three in the morning. We were both tired and more than a bit cold but we headed to Cannon Hill Park and ended up sitting on the swings talking about everything and nothing as though we’d known each other forever. From that moment onwards we were firm friends.
Sam’s message to me via Facebook perfectly captured the essence of the person I knew back then.
It’s you! How are you? I’ve been hoping that one day you’d pop out of the woodwork! I’m well, thanks, living in Leeds, working in IT and driving a Ford Fiesta! Still like good music though. Tell me your news! Seethee, Sam x
Though it was short it was both warm and funny (I particularly liked that word ‘seethee’ as though she were an eighty-year-old Yorkshireman). I replied outlining everything that had happened to me since we had last seen each other (the best part of fourteen years ago) and suggested that we meet up. Within a few minutes I received the following message:
Would absolutely love it if you came up to see me! How long has it been? Feels like forever. Whatever day you fancy just let me know and I’ll book the day off work and cancel my spin class (I go most days after work). Give my love to your Missus and your very, very, very cute kids! Sam x
A short flurry of emails later we’d arranged a date.
It was just after eleven a.m. on the last Wednesday in January when I found myself standing in front of the departure board at Leeds railway station scanning the hundreds of faces milling around on the concourse. There were girls of every sort but not one matched the face that I had pictured in my head. Suddenly there she was: the long auburn air was now bobbed, the silver nose stud gone and her skinny frame, though fuller, was more healthy looking (this version of Sam didn’t look for a moment as though it survived on a diet of Silk Cut and microwave pizza rolls). The only thing that remained unchanged were the clothes (less obviously studenty but still recognisably Sam’s style), her smiling eyes and the filthy big grin. For a moment I was speechless because it really was the weirdest sensation to see someone whom you’d once seen practically every day for a year after a fourteen-year gap. I was expecting to see the Sam that I’d known then and though the person in front of me
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