FRIENDS REUNITED...

"Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end..." is something me and a pal used to sing around the time of Mary Hopkins' hit single of the late '60s.  Maybe it was a little later (though not by much) when my pal and myself belted out those lines as we gadded about the street enjoying ourselves.  (Hey, give us a break, man, we were only about 9 or 10 years old, no older than 11.)  Occasionally, in later years, we'd also belt out bits of the song, as it reminded us of when we were kids with forever seemingly ahead of us.

Those days did end though, when my pal joined the Royal Navy and never seemed to regard me in quite the same way again.  Whether it was by not visiting me when he was back home on leave (though he usually did - as far as I know), or not coming to see me when I moved down to Southsea (at his request) for 3 or 4 months at the start of 1981, he appeared to be distancing himself from me as he immersed himself in his new life.   Were there aspects of his marriage that he didn't want me to know about (his wife left him after about two-and-a-half or three years), or was he worried that I'd inadvertently 'blow the gaff' on the lies he told everybody about himself if I met his new friends?

Who knows, but I was always puzzled as to why he'd bother to invite me to visit (and even stay) with him in his new location when he evinced absolutely no inclination to have anything to do with me when I accepted his invitation.  Perhaps his wife had thought it a good idea and he was only trying to 'keep her sweet', or maybe he thought (and hoped) I'd never accept, but whatever the reason, I was treated like a bad smell for the entire duration of my stay.  That's why, without telling him of my intention, I decided to have nothing more to do with him when I last saw him in a canteen in Haslar Hospital in Gosport towards the end of April 1981.

I last heard his voice in 1987 when it emanated from the speaker of my telephone answering machine, when he pretended to be a Detective Chief Inspector in the Hampshire Police Force, so even his last words to me were a lie.  He just wasn't the same person I'd known as a kid and teenager - or maybe he was and I'd just never noticed at the time.

Anyway, as regular Crivs will perhaps know, 5 weeks ago today, I discovered he'd died around 10-and-a-half years ago, so if there'd ever been a chance of me burying the hatchet (there wasn't - I was too angry and disappointed in him) it was now gone forever.  And yet I find that I still have fond memories of him when we were kids, teens, and young adults, and I have a better opinion of who he seemed to be then, than the absurd fantasist and liar he 'became' after joining the Navy.

As I said, I last saw him face-to-face in 1981 and last heard his voice through an answering machine in 1987, which is a hell of a long 'separation' for two people who'd once been such firm friends (or at least I'd always thought so) and faced all sorts of adventures side-by-side as we explored office buildings, schools, hospitals, hotels, and all sorts of places (after hours) in which we should certainly never have been.  'Side-by-side'?  Well, that's not quite accurate - he was usually a few feet behind me as I led the way, urging him to follow in my footsteps.

He was especially a few feet behind me on the night we were jumped by a gang.  As I faced up to them he cowered at the back of me, then did a runner as I got belted over the head with a big bit of heavy wood.  I was outnumbered by at least 6 to one, so on that rare occasion, I thought it best to follow my pal's lead and make myself scarce, following in his wake as he disappeared over the horizon.  At least the huge lump on my head got me a day off work the following morning.  (This would've been around early 1975 when I was still 16, in my second job since leaving school.  It was a local Co-op in case you were wondering.)

So in memory of happier times, I dug out an old primary school photo he'd given me back in 1978, copied it, framed it, and placed it next to an old primary school photo of myself (same school) on a nest of tables on the hall landing.  Mine, as you can see, is black and white while his is in colour.  I could've made it b&w to match my pic, but why deny him his moment to outshine me and put me in the shade?  It's not something he ever managed to do while he was alive, so I can afford to be generous.

And there you have it!  Two old friends who once seemed inseparable, finally reunited, side-by-side - even if only in old framed photos atop a table in a hall landing.  It's not much perhaps, but it'll have to do, won't it?

Tiddely-Pom.    

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