Over the years, I have been very lucky, in that I have made friends whose friendship has lasted down the years. Even when we go for several years without seeing one another, people have wanted to stay in touch with me. Of course, things such as Facebook and, before that, Friends Reunited, have made it much easier to do this, but even so it is not as if there is any compulsion on anyone to make contact.
One of those friends is Angela, my flatmate from my last year at university. I wasn’t quite the flatmate from hell, but I came close. Fortunately, Angela had known me for a couple of years at that time and so, apart from fixing her with a stern determination never to live with me again (which must have been a blow to my mother who, at the time, adored her and regarded her as ideal girlfriend material, if not more), the year did no damage to our friendship.
Just after I left university Angela turned 21 and invited me to her birthday party, which was held in her home town in Leicestershire. Also invited were three of our university friends, Crash, Eek and the guy Angela had been pursuing for virtually the whole time I had known her, Big Dave.
We were staying at Angela’s brother’s house, and she had made some cunning changes to the sleeping arrangements to ensure that Dave would have no choice but to share her bed. Things didn’t go quite according to plan though.
It must have been a good party, because all I can remember of it is doing some crazy, whirling, dancing along the length of the hall. In fact, the next thing I remember was that we were all back at the house and Ange was trying to persuade us to go to bed – or, more specifically, Dave to go to bed.
Dave was having none of it. His avoidance of Angela was a masterpiece of its kind, lasting over many months and would have taught me many useful things if I had ever been in the position of having an attractive young woman chasing me when I didn’t want her to. I can’t recall the exact sequence of events, but eventually Dave ended up going to bed without Angela and Angela and I ended up staying up half of the night talking about why Dave wouldn’t sleep with her.
Dave came out a few years later, which bothered no-one and must have been a great relief to Angela.
I’m mentioning this now, because it was 21 years ago today. Happy birthday, Squeaky.