Julie – 12th January 1988

I got your picture on my wall
I think maybe I should give you a call
I haven’t seen you for a year or two
I don’t know if I’d even recognise you
I know you just took me for a fool
But now we’re older and out of school
You’re someone I’d really like to see
I wonder if you’d even recognise me

5th Nov 2021 – It’s 1983/1984 – On my school bus was a girl called Annabel Frost and one day whilst looking out of my second-floor classroom I could see Annabel in her classroom on the ground floor in the building opposite. She was talking with this cute girl and I got their attention and from that point on I would regularly blow kisses out of the window whenever I would see her there. I found out her name – Julie Roberts but was somehow too shy to even have the courage to talk with her, let alone take it any further. The attached picture is a barely snuck shot in the playground one day. The days when no one wanted their picture taken!

Sometime in the following year (1985) Julie happened to be visiting Annabel in her village, which was one of our gang’s rotation of regular haunts and we got to hang out a bit in our wider circle of friends. I tried to lead her off, not for any nefarious activity but more to just talk alone and we did that in the local church doorway. I so desperately wanted to kiss her but was too shy to approach and also recognised the awkward position that that might put her in.

Anyway, she was quite interested in the fact that I had pierced my own nose twice and wanted hers pierced too. I told her I would do it and we arranged for her to come to my house in the days following. Oh my god! Julie Roberts would be alone with me in my bedroom! Better hide the stinky socks.

Again, I was so damn nervous and I couldn’t for the life of me understand if she was here just to get her nose pierced, how much she liked me or wanted to fumble around. I felt like I was acting like a gentleman by not initiating anything and leaving it for her to decide if there would be any making out.

Things were also frustrated a little by the fact that I spent part of the time with my tobacco-stained finger stuck up her nose and making her cry when trying to shove a sharp needle through. The needle wasn’t sharp enough, I wasn’t brave enough. She left in the end, both of us disappointed, one way or another.

And that was the last time I saw her! In 1988, her picture inspired this poem and, as I’m sure we all have similar pictures, left me wondering what might have been.

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