This article was written as a contribution to the Soaring Twenties (STSC) Symposium. This month’s Symposium theme is “Connection.” The STSC is a group of creatives who write, paint, versify and experiment their way through life. Join us!
It only recently occurred to me that I could have invited Anne to come to a café with me, or even one of the dance halls.
I liked Anne. She was quick-witted. She was beautiful. She was a thief. She always seemed to be in trouble because of some petty theft or misdemeanour. I don’t know why. Looking back as an adult, I wonder if something awful had happened to her and that all the miscreancy was a cry for help. I don’t know. What I do know is that one day she was very upset because she had been banned from entering one of the amusement arcades.
That didn’t put me off enjoying her company. Perhaps that was a portent of things to come, because as a teacher I always got on really well with the very naughty kids!
Anne and I had first met in an amusement arcade, and we never formally arranged to meet because we would always be sure to come across each other in an amusement arcade. This was Butlins Holday Camp, where there was always plenty of choice of activity, but I didn’t once see her roller skating or swimming, only in amusement arcades.
My preference was for the rifle range. (I later “graduated” to space invaders.) There was also a seven foot mechanical cowboy you could challenge to a draw. You put your coin in the slot, and the cowboy would say things like, “Reach for your gun, Greenhorn.”
And always, everywhere, the background music seemed to be the Kinks’ newly-released first record, You Really Got Me. Raw, gutsy, assertive, with a great riff and a beat you could dance to. A complete contrast to the sugary sweet She Loves You by the Beatles, released in the same year.
I like to think that, even at that age, I might have had the sense and found the courage to ask Anne if we could exchange addresses and write to each other. I’d have waited until the night before the last day of the holiday. But the possibility of doing so was taken out of my hands because soon after the banning incident Anne was no longer to be found, even though it was only mid-week. In a way I’m reminded of the verse from the Bob Dylan song One Of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later):
When I saw you say goodbye to your friend and smile
I thought that it was well understood
That you'd be comin' back in a little while
I didn't know that you were sayin' goodbye for good1
For about a year afterwards I fantasised about bumping into Anne while out and about. But the likelihood of that happening was remote to say the least. I spent twelve years hoping I would meet once again the girl with long hair, and when I finally did so, at a party, it turned out that all the while she lived just around the corner from me, a five minute walk away.
Occasionally, I wonder what happened to Anne. Was she able to overcome whatever demons had led her to misbehave, or did she just grow out of a mischievous phase? I do hope she’s had a nice life.
I hope you enjoyed this article. You might also be interested to learn that I recently started up a new newsletter called Write!.
I find these words sad and beautiful and poignant, and they in turn remind me of Rod McKuen’s poem, Song Without Words. Here’s the official Bob Dylan video:
Now. I’m wondering what happened to Anne 🙂. You transported me to that camp with your words.
Non-conformists always seem to be celebrated in writing. I suppose we’ve been raised to channel it in that way. This is a relatable childhood experience about one.