Where Did You Go To My Lovely
Where Did You Go To My Lovely?
Somewhere in the innocence of my youth lies a golden memory and at the same time lasting regret. I am talking specifically about first love and the mistakes I made and will always wonder ‘what if…’ I don’t regret the last forty one years of marriage or the satisfyingly romantic courtship that preceded it and I will never want to go back and change that, but I hate unfinished business; not that I can go back and ‘finish’ the story with my first love.
Ok! So the reader may be a little confused and not just a little bit annoyed at me for what appears to be a contradiction; yet if I unravel it as I hope to the reason for going back may be explained.
Anne was fifteen as was when we noticed each other at school. Growing up and dealing with the confusing urges of puberty can be difficult, but if you mix in two painfully shy teenagers it is no wonder the romance budded and failed to blossom. If I have learned anything from the past it is to ‘seize the day’ or regret it for all time and wonder without any resolution of emotion. Nor should I forget that fairy tales always finish ‘happy ever after. I mean, can you imagine Cinderella with Marigold Gloves and a piny stood next to a mountain of dirty dishes? I suppose I am grateful in short for the innocence and leave it there, but would I change anything? Yes I would!
Anne and I were as I explained both shy and were brought together through friends and third party messages; you know ‘my mate thinks you are pretty…’ You know the form. We went to two bonfire parties and that was the summary of events pretty much. I was even too shy to kiss her on the second date as she boarded the bus to go home, so she kissed ME…
Two days later she hinted that she wouldn’t mind seeing ‘Doctor At Sea’ at the local Odeon. I wasn’t against the idea, but it was the certificate sixteen and we were fifteen. I was not the bold type and feared being refused entry. However, I found it impossible to tell Anne the reason for my apparent lack of enthusiasm was fear. Anne thought I wasn’t really interested and passed the dreaded ‘you’ve been dumped’ through a third party.
That was over fifty years ago now and ‘je ne regrettte rien’ except the chance to put the record straight. I do not know if Anne married, had family or even fell in love and I don’t want to know.
‘Where did you go to my lovely?’