Had something of a shock yesterday. Went out for a drink with someone I’d not really spoken to for nigh on twenty years. That wasn’t the shock. This was:
“So, you remember Graham?”
“Graham who?”
“You know. Graham. The short one. Did maths with Sharon.”
“Sharon who?”
“Sharon with the brown hair who liked The Smiths and hung around with the Goths”
“I think I remember Sharon.”
“And Graham?”
“No idea, sorry.”
“Right.”
(pause)
“He only had one ear.”
“Still not ringing a bell.”
“He used to wear red velvet hats and fart ostentatiously in the lunch queue.”
“Oh, hang on… no, sorry.”
“He lost the use of his legs for three weeks in 1989 following an accident with a spirograph and had to come to work in a converted baby walker.”
“Not helping.”
“He had a green face”
“Look, can you stop now?”
“He had a really high pitched voice, like someone strangling a cartoon ferret.”
“You are now scaring me. Leave me alone, please.”
“He once sexually assaulted a pigeon during Early Modern British History.”
“Help! Someone get me out of here! Police!”
Miraculously, this was *not* how the conversation went, which bucks the trend of most times I have caught up with old friends. In fact if we actually want to know what we’ve been doing for 20 years we will have meet up again to open the trunk of memory, because we completely forgot to remember to ask whether we had forgotten or remembered everything.
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