Down to Woolacombe in Devon for the stag night/day of an old school friend of mine. Nice to have a day off, even if the first half of it was spent driving 200 miles, which perhaps isnÂ’t quite the break I needed.
But it was all worth it when I had got there and was on the beach with some of my oldest friends. I hadnÂ’t seen some of them for about ten years and my main memories of them are from 20 to 30 years ago and though they all are still in pretty impressive shape, there was no denying that we werenÂ’t the people we once were. Age shall wither us and the years condemn.
Better than the alternative, I suppose.
I hadnÂ’t seen the prospective groomÂ’s brothers since school and it was with a start that I remembered that one of them had been in the brass band with me. I had hated being in the band, but my parents had been very insistent that I take lessons on some kind of instrument and I had ended up playing the trumpet. Very badly and very reluctantly. And much as I wanted to not be in the band, somehow I was able to be forced to do so. How did my parents have this power over me? I guess because they controlled my pocket money and my food and shelter. They probably said they would stop feeding me if I didnÂ’t play in the band. Or locked me in a cupboard until I agreed to practise my scales. That is almost certainly the kind of thing they would do. I was a bit like Harry Potter, but without the magic powers or the scholarship at a brilliant school with ghosts and monsters in it, where my dad wasnÂ’t the headmaster. His parents were dead, of course. The lucky bastard.
My dad was the headmaster of the school, which I am sure has created psychological scars that have blighted my whole life, so no doubt wanted me to be the kind of model pupil who took part in such extra-curricular activities. But it was bad enough having to cope with the fact that everyone was at least suspicious of me (and at worst automatically hated me) because of my relationship to the supreme figure of authority, without then having to be the kind of nerd who was also in the brass band.
I imagine that my early life was very similar to that of Jesus. Everywhere he went, everyone knew his dad was God and so it was hard for them to be his mate or mess around or be naughty while he was there, because theyÂ’d be worried he would report back to his father (who art in Heaven). But Jesus longed to be mates with all the other kids and do the kind of rebellious stuff that they were all doing, but his dad was concerned about appearances and made him wear the exact correct school uniform and work hard in lessons and obey all the rules. But at least Jesus had magic powers, which I did not. How come I am the only one without magic powers.
Like Jesus, I probably annoyed all the other kids by hanging around all the time, wherever they were, wishing they would be my friends. Though Jesus took that omnipresence a bit too far in my opinion, going absolutely everywhere, with absolutely everyone. No wonder he was so unpopular. “I’m trying to have a shit Jesus, will you just respect my boundaries and leave me alone?” But Jesus never learned.
Whilst I donÂ’t condone the use of crucifixion against anyone, you can at least understand why people got fed up with him.
I languished in second trumpets for pretty much my entire time in the school band, never getting promoted to the front row, which did all the cool and beautiful stuff. Because I was shit at the trumpet. And hated it. And call me weird but I donÂ’t think you can force someone to be interested in something they are not, by making them do it regardless of their own feelings. But the groomÂ’s brother, two years younger than me, was a trumpeting whizz and very keen and had soon overtaken me to the first trumpets.
I wasnÂ’t jealous, so much as amazed that anyone would take this prison sentence so seriously and with such dedication.
I had forgotten all this, until today, when I saw him again twenty years on and now a man. It is an odd jolt to see someone at 16 and then 36 and nothing in between.
Maria Barnes who I used to be desperately in love with (for about three months) was there too, still looking lovely. Though she is 8 months pregnant, so to be honest I have probably missed my chance with her. Not that I think I ever had a chance with her. When I was 14, assured, handsome and popular Adam Baker found out about my crush and wickedly told me that Maria fancied me back and that I should definitely ask her out. I remember going up to her, my face on fire with embarrassment, nervously bumbling something about her becoming my girlfriend and being quickly, though not brutally rebuffed. I was a little heart-broken by this humiliation, but it served me well as a practice session for all the future romantic failures I would experience. So I should thank Adam Baker for helping to toughen up the sensitive skin around my heart.
It didnÂ’t floor me for too long. I soon moved on to having another hopeless and unrequited crush on Marcia Radford and then on Fiona Pope. I could go on. But we only have limited time and 25 years have passed since then.
But them passage of time soothes all wounds and seeing Maria again only made me remember these more innocent and stupid times with fondness and a smile. I was such a clueless, tiny idiot, who was in the brass band and whose dad was the headmaster. But like Jesus Christ I would go on to leave my home town and appear in a few cultish TV programmes and have a moderately successful stand up career, before dying on the cross at 33.
Maybe I am not quite as like Jesus as I like to think.
It is such a privilege to still be friends with the people I knew at school, even if I only see some of them every ten years or so. We slipped very easily back into our old relationships, got drunk together, ate together, laughed together, felt old together. I hope we will still be getting together occasionally in twenty years time. Maybe even in forty years time. I know at least I will see them in a monthÂ’s time at the wedding. Might have another crack at Maria then. SheÂ’ll have had her baby by then and will doubtless be very keen to be impregnated again immediately. At least that it was Adam Baker has just emailed me to tell me.
