The Summer of '93

The final flourish

2nd December1993

Dear Ali,

It has been an interesting day. I had a set of really nice trainees. It is so rewarding when a teacher compliments me. I had a flick through my diary and it was good to read of all the great times we've had in Loch Lomond, Glasgow, Edinburgh the Dales, Wales, York, so many places in such a short time! I particularly remember Aberdeen and it being the first time you told me you loved me. I remember we were on our own and you asked me "Do you love me?" And I had been so taken aback I was stumped for words.

I digress but the TV is so depressing - it's AIDS week!

Well on a more cheerful note Mum and I enjoyed town. There was a great atmosphere, with people bustling for their bargains. I stumbled across a piper and for a second I was transported back to Edinburgh and by the station on Princes Street. The lights reminded me of the tattoo fireworks. There was that wonderful smokey baked potato aroma infusion filling the air; I hopedhe would play my favourite, Green Hills. It had that cold crisp feeling.

I really hate it when I have to say goodnight over the phone; you might have noticed! I miss you so much. Nine and a half days. It feels like an eternity until you are here and I think of you all the time.

I posted the letter once I had signed it. I waved it goodbye and imagined it would take the same journey as the ones to Dionisis. Did he ever give me a second thought or was he too wrapped up in his own life or his studies? I didn't envy his cold December in Heidelberg. I imagined he would be spending time with his Family and making plans to travel himself. 

As Christmas approached I had no desire to go into town as shopping was murder. I did enjoy how the Christmas decorations sparkled in the icy cold of winter. I did not really watch much television but Mum would watch some of the worst, from Soaps to the absolutely dire Noel's House party. I cringed at Mr Blobby, who seemed to have taken over through unsubtle brainwashing, the UK mob. The foamy inflatable entertained by slamming into things and, for reasons unfathomable to me, these tiresome antics drew in the crowd. Mr Blobby was even on track to Scoring the Christmas No.1 in 1993 in the charts with a cringeworthy single, filled with Kids singing out 'Mr Blobby'. Most of the time I listened to my own music and the Astra had my Peter Gabriel 'Us' album on repeat. Noel Edmonds came to turn on the Christmas lights, I read in the local paper. He turned up with Mr Blobby and there was, as usual the great countdown, but the lights  had already been accidentally lit! The lights were suspended from lamp posts and across the streets from wires. 

As I walked passed the City Varieties, the Victorian music hall, with the lights illuminating the tiny theatre front, to me that was the epitome of Christmas. Mum would take me as a child to the pantomime or to see some theatrical event with a famous TV contemporary, such as Charlie Drake, Harry Worth and Little & Large. Names that are now of their time and faded into the past. We would always arrive late, just as the show was about to start and we would always sit high in the 'Gods' seats, peering down above the light rigs, with a small tub of costly ice cream and a wooden spoon. The spoon haunted me as I had bad tonsils as a child and the doctor always forced my tongue down with a wooden stick whilst he peered in with a fine torch.

I found myself in the town centre because Sue and Anthony had managed seven weeks of marriage before parting. So Quig, being the great friend he was, had invited Anthony to move in, but Anthony had had to move back to his parents. We had arranged to take him to the Cinema. Anthony was pretty low. I had insisted on Mrs Doubtfire, because my comic genius hero was in it and I thought it would lift Anthony's mood. Well I absolutely loved it. Anthony shuffled with his head constantly pointing down to the ground, looking like a moving statue of Atlas. Nothing would lift him. I think Quig was grateful that I was another distraction for him as Quig had run out of ideas with him.