Hmmm
I have a few of these, but this one in particular casts me in a very bad light. So please, please bear in mind that I was a naive seven year old, I didn't know any better. And me and this guy did, eventually, become good friends until he emigrated to New Zealand a few years ago. Even then he came back for a mutual friends wedding a while ago and, after a few glasses of wine, I still felt the need to apologise to him for this. As I have done many times over the years.


Way back in March 1982 my parents moved house and I had to change schools.

I didn't take too long to settle in, but there was one kid who I just couldn't get along with. I think perhaps because I was welcomed into his group of friends and there was some jealousy issues.

I’d still go round his house for tea sometimes with the rest of them, we tolerated each other to that level. Even though I hated his house, with its religious paraphernalia everywhere and his Indian mums strange spicy food (in 1982, curry was a strange and alien thing to a common as shit Basildon boy).

I didn’t like his Dad much either. This stern, very white, stiff upper lipped headmaster type who scared the shit out of me.

Anyway, somehow, we bumbled along without ever becoming friends and with the very occasional playground scrap or an extra hard tackle when playing bulldog.

One of our bust ups occurred while playing - and this is actually cringeworthy enough on its own – hopscotch. He trod on a line, so I called him on it.

He denied it. We argued, shoving started and then – cringeworthy moment number two – I ran.
Yes, I was a coward. Hated fights. Was terrified of getting hurt.
I sprinted across the playground as fast as my spindly little legs would carry me.

Which unfortunately was not as fast as his spindly little legs could carry him. He caught me, pushed up against the wall, was about to hit me.

I was going to die, I knew it.

So I did the only thing I could think of to save me. I came up with a smart alec remark.

And, I swear, (oh god, I am cringing still as I write this), I don’t know where these words came from, I can’t remember ever having heard them before, but they were enough to stop him in his tracks and leave him sobbing with tears and me still feeling guilty when I think about it some 27 years later.

I blurted out…

…’F…f…fuck off, you fucking religious half caste’

God I hate myself right now.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 10:42, 2 replies)

Kids saw awful things and they don't know what they mean nearly 100% of the time.
If you're friends with the guy now then let it go, you can't keep beating yourself up about it.

(Or are you in fact still 7 and it only happened a couple of weeks ago?)
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 16:30, closed)

He'd better not be
I met him in a pub a few weeks ago.
(Bazongaloid, Fri 28 Nov 2008, 16:56, closed)