Last night, we nipped down to the pub to see our friends the two T’s and walked back after eleven wandering along the middle of the High Street still in our shirtsleeves, me in shorts and sandals too. Today it’s been cool and rainy and summer is definitely on its way out. The summer has been long and lovely,, and I feel almost resentful that I’m having to put a jumper on to go out.
Thinking about summer reminds me of a true story… the names and places have been changed but this did really happen:
Like a bird…
It was the late 60’s and Kate had finished her A-levels and was staying for two weeks in the summer with her aunty who lived in Plymouth where she used to live. Kate had great fun with all her friends from when she’d lived there – some of them were working and could only get together with her in the evenings, but others were a similar age and either on holiday from university, or waiting to go as Kate was.
One evening they were down wandering round the harbour and stopped at one of the many pubs. Kate was standing with her friends, when she noticed Philip talking to a tall blond young man she didn’t know. The man looked across at her and their eyes met. Minutes later they were talking to each other, as if they had known each other for ever. He wasn’t English but she couldn’t place his accent, Australian, maybe? But no, he was Norwegian and he was here in Plymouth for two weeks to improve his impeccable English at a language school. His name was Óli, he was two years older than her, and he came from Bergen. Unfortunately he had already been in Plymouth for a week and then he was returning to Bergen.
Kate and Óli spent the evening together, wandering round with the others, and they agreed to met the next day when he had finished his classes. He had a car, which was great because they could drive out of the city and go to little pubs nearby. They spent the next week together, when he wasn’t at the language school; one afternoon when it was not very nice weather, they just went to the room in the house where he was lodging and listened to music… yes, it really was as innocent as that. He was captivated by an American singer Philip had introduced him to, Leonard Cohen.
Leonard sounded as if he was singing a dirge to Kate, but his lyrics were interesting and witty… and in actual fact, when the LP was played for about the third time – Óli only had one LP and that was Leonard, Kate began to actually quite like the songs. That was the last afternoon Kate was with Óli. He returned to Bergen and she returned home to her family, and to a place at University. Óli and Kate wrote to each other, but they both began to meet new friends at their respective universities in Norway and England. Óli visited her, but it wasn’t a success. He had come over for a friend’s wedding in Plymouth, and Kate had gone down to meet him… but somehow things weren’t right. The following summer he came again, and they went away for a few days together, but he seemed annoyed for some reason. Kate meanwhile had met other friends, not boyfriends although they were boys…
Life took its course and soon it was merely a card at Christmas, until suddenly, one July Kate received a letter telling her that not only was Óli married, but he and his new wife had a baby. Kate wasn’t sure how she felt… she had fallen in love with someone else – not a successful or reciprocal relationship, and she had moved on from her feelings for Óli, but even so it was somehow a shock.
Years passed… there was no internet, no mobile phones, no texting or messaging or emailing until the 90’s. How different things might have been if there had been that instant way to stay in touch. These days if a young woman meets a young man, even if he lives halfway round the world from her they can stay in constant touch with each other. For Kate and Óli they just had to rely on the postman.
Now, whenever Kate hears Leonard Cohen, she is taken back to that wonderful sunny week in Plymouth, so long ago.