I was over-joyed to catch up with an old friend today, Jo, and when I say “old” I mean “known for quite a while”, not elderly. I must’ve known Jo for about … *counts* … twenty or twenty one years and, believe it or not, I met her at Scouts! She was a Girl Guide and we (as in the Scout group) did some joint activities together, she joined as a Venture Scout … and it all went downhill from there! Seriously, though, it was good to see her and chat about friends, old times, new times and, of course, Rocco.
After she’d lulled me into a false sense of security, Jo produced a small collection of photographs. This is in itself didn’t seem like something to panic about until I realised that a main feature of these seemingly innocent pictures was … *dramatic orchestral swell* … me! As a teenager! With horrendous hair! ARGH!!!
And, against my better judgement, I’ve decided to share two one of them here with you, my unsuspecting readers - I can’t share the third one because it also features another friend and I don’t know if they’d be happy with me posting their likeness on the world weird web … that’s the only reason why I haven’t uploaded it and it has nothing whatsoever to do with the truly grotesque shirt I was wearing at the time.
The first picture was taken on Weston-super-Mare beach:
Me and a group of mates had driven down there with the intention of spending some cash on the sea-front arcades and shops and then sleeping in our cars on the beach - it was a night when the tide was due to not come in. Unfortunately, it was also the same night that a rave had been organised about half a mile away, so we didn’t get much sleep. I wasn’t trying to look cool or anything … honest!