Sydney has continued wet, I fear. Again woke early thinking about my various deadlines. Sigh. Instead I settled down in front of my computer to browse through the offerings of some of my fellow bloggers. I didn't get as far as I should, I got sidetracked, but I want to share one memory with you.
Ramana wrote of his memory of his first kiss (Story 2. My First Kiss. and Story 2. My First Kiss – Sequel.) Now as it happened, I had been talking to a female friend immediately before this. I told her a story from my professional life. She laughed, and said that she had been just eleven at the time. Oh dear!
My first kiss was a peck stolen from MW on the front verandah when I was at primary school. I knew about kissing in an abstract sense, it was hard to ignore given books and media coverage, but I didn't actually know what kissing was. So that first kiss, how shall I put this, was sudden, chaste and not followed up!
However, this wasn't what came to my mind when I read the story. In Saturday Morning Musings - Goat and rhododendron & other nostalgia, I spoke of that girl I met on the boarding school train. This was to be 
After train trip, I next met her at the school athletics carnival. This is an actual shot from that carnival,' the one hundred yards. I, am I think, in this photo but no where near Rick Howe (first) or Rollo Manning (second).
We wandered along the bank. Plucking up my courage, I said may I write to you? The two schools are only a few k from each other, but that was a different world. She said yes. So, and innocently, I wrote to her every week. I say innocently because I wrote on school letterhead and put the letter in a school envelope. Now that made the letter totally identifiable in the intense environment of a girl's boarding school. Everyone knew that she had a boyfriend at TAS!
That year finished. She returned to Sydney and I started university in Armidale. I wrote her for me what was a fairly passionate letter. A month later, she and her parents called in at home on their way though. She and I were standing in the kitchen. I got your letter, she said. I gulped. Our parents were in the next room.
What would you do? I wanted to kiss her, but my inhibitions got the better of me. That wasn't quite the end of the story. but it was a missed opportunity. And, to this day, I still feel a bit silly. Ah well.
2 comments:
I am delighted to have got you reminiscing about your first kiss Jim. I have had my share of missed opportunities too and a couple of them may just feature in my blog in my stories series.
Nothing like being a venerable three score and ten!
Now, Ramana, I'm not quite as old as that! Look forward to your stories.
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