fresh
I escaped from the office as usual at lunchtime, headphones on even before
I'd reached the lift, relief washing over me as the opening bars of 'down
colorful hill' rang in my ears.
I found a seat in my usual area of the grounds of the city hall, however,
this time on the other side of the railings -- outside the grounds, to be
precise -- on a bench, watching the people walk by, shopping, on their lunch
break, the kids hanging round with nothing better to do now that school is
finished. as per usual I was in my own world, the red house painters
escorting me away from the traffic and the noise and the humming of money
being made and spent, even out here, in the wide-open streets.
the people blend into one mass as they drift by, barely distinguishable -
but then something caught my eye. a boy and a girl, probably about eleven,
probably wearing smarter clothes than they needed to for a thursday
afternoon walking round belfast city centre, and clearly a new couple, and
not only that but this was their very first date, ever, with a member of the
opposite sex. it was their first step... little did they know they would be
sliding down the slippery slope sooner than they had anticipated. you could
tell, it was clear: the way he had his arm round her shoulders, stiff as a
plank, as if he was comforting a damp dog. her arm around his waist, not
quite leaning into him, not quite touching, just hovering, uncomfortably.
I must admit I did find the scene amusing, I envisaged the both of them
going off to meet a set of their friends - either his or hers, but probably
not both, and these friends may not have boyfriends/girlfriends of their
own yet, and the couple would demonstrate their maturity and superiority by
showing how at ease they were with holding hands and Being Together. I
doubt, however, that they would have the confidence to go any futher, in
public - no kiss goodbye as one of them boards the bus (that's a half fare,
please, under-16), not yet a squeeze of the hand, not yet a caress of the
face. just standing about, blushing, hands awkwardly in pockets.
it also made me wistful, for I never had a chance to go through all this at
that age, never had a chance to experience the awkwardness whilst it was
still new territory - all that came later, afterwards, with cynicism and
sarcasm and unnecessary complications - the waters had already been charted,
then, and the cartographers had been elevated to wise old men, knowledgable
in the way of Women.
regardless, apart from my selfish yearnings, I was happy for them: just
think of the fun they'll have, how happy they'll be, in the next couple of
weeks. unlikely to be more than weeks. summer holidays are a long time when
you're eleven. yes, heartbreak will come, but it will pass. early teenage
birthday parties, on the brink before things become too serious, can spin
the bottle still be played /sans/ irony at that age? I hope so, I hope so.