black hair and intense brown eyes looking out under enormous bushy eyebrows,like a giant hairy caterpillar crawling across his forehead. He said his name wasBug and
I wasn’t surprised.
We were in the sleepy little village near to my school when we first met, and it
wasn’t until over 30 years later that I found out it was no coincidence we bumped
into each other, but a carefully orchestrated meeting. There was a lot about Bug I
didn’t find out til later … including his real name.
It was a lovely afternoon i
n the long hot summer of ’76 a
nd I was with my friendsTanya, Bucket, Linda and Victoria. Bug was with two other boys and we all walkedrather self-consciously back to our school and sat in the playing fields, us girlstrying not to be too over-awed by being with
. We were ridiculouslyshy and silly, so goodness
knows why they didn’t just leave an
d find some moremature girls to hang out with. We laughed at all their jokes, hungry for whateververbal morsel fell out of their mouths so perhaps that was the appeal. That firstmeeting is permanently etched in my memory, maybe a sign, now that I look backon it, that meeting Bug was always going to be more than just a casual flirtation inmy life.