formidable proposition. Mel, Charlie, Vernie and I had all been for lunch at the Haversham, and as we headed for Highgate Woods we all donned our sunglasses with pride—
Reservoir Dogs
let loose in Muswell Hill.
Our plan for the afternoon revolved around us finding a patch of grass to sit on, earnestly reading the various sections of Charlie’s Sunday newspaper and then discussing any current events that caught our eye—just like we’d always imagined proper adults did. In reality, however, I knew we wouldn’t do any of these things, because it was such a beautiful day and all we really wanted to do was lie down on the warm grass, stare at the sky and drink the bottle of wine we’d brought with us.
Walking through the iron gates of the park, Charlie and Vernie decided to race each other to the benches in the open space in the middle of the woods. Laughing maniacally, they grabbed at each other’s clothing as they tried to stop each other from getting ahead. Mel and I, still digesting our pub lunch, opted to follow them at a far gentler pace.
There was a new seriousness about the two of us, as if the people we had been before our engagement were becoming more and more like distant relatives. Family and friends’ responses to us had changed almost overnight—suddenly I was an adult; I was respectable. In recent weeks we’d driven to Southampton to see Mel’s mum and dad and taken them out for dinner; my mum had come down to London specifically to see us both and had stayed the whole weekend at Mel’s; and we’d seen more of Mark and Julie than ever. Without fail everyone would mention our “wonderful new life together” as if our old life together had been a complete waste of time. It was hard not to feel nostalgic for the old days when we just “were.”
As we ambled along, we were drawn to the sounds coming from the adventure playground in the middle of the woods. We stood by the wire fence looking in. The climbing frames, swings and slides—in vibrant shades of red, yellow and blue—were a heaving, screaming mass of kids, like ants crawling over lollypop sticks in summer. Their parents watched enthralled at how much fun these small people could have without the aid of artificial stimulants. The noise was incredible, their Lilliputian voices communicating overwhelming joy and on occasion individual sorrow. A small boy in red dungarees tripped over whilst racing his friends to the slide and immediately burst into tears. Like a one-man ER his dad scooped him up into his arms and gave him a huge hug. Within seconds the tragedy was over and the boy was back with his friends again racing toward the slide. The whole scene reminded me of when I was small and my mum would take me and Vernie to the park. I’d always insist that Mum play football with me, and to her credit she did. She was terrible of course—it’s impossible to be a good goalkeeper in high heels—but at least she tried.
Mel nudged me gently on the shoulder, rousing me from my reminiscences. She took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Duffy?”
“Yeah,” I said breezily.
“You were somewhere else.”
“I know,” I said and kissed her.
Reaching up she put a warm hand on either side of my face, pulled me toward her and placed her lips firmly on mine. “We’re getting married,” she said excitedly.
“Yeah, we are.” Holding her hand in my own I absentmindedly rotated the engagement ring I’d bought her. It was a white gold band with a single sapphire. It wasn’t particularly expensive compared to the meteorite-sized rock arrangement Mark had commissioned for his engagement ring to Julie, but Mel seemed genuinely to love it.
“Do you think we know enough about each other?” she asked wistfully.
“Yeah, of course,” I replied. “What I don’t know about you I could write on the back of a stamp. I’d need very small handwriting, mind you.”
She punched me in the arm playfully. “Are you saying that just to shut me
Reservoir Dogs
let loose in Muswell Hill.
Our plan for the afternoon revolved around us finding a patch of grass to sit on, earnestly reading the various sections of Charlie’s Sunday newspaper and then discussing any current events that caught our eye—just like we’d always imagined proper adults did. In reality, however, I knew we wouldn’t do any of these things, because it was such a beautiful day and all we really wanted to do was lie down on the warm grass, stare at the sky and drink the bottle of wine we’d brought with us.
Walking through the iron gates of the park, Charlie and Vernie decided to race each other to the benches in the open space in the middle of the woods. Laughing maniacally, they grabbed at each other’s clothing as they tried to stop each other from getting ahead. Mel and I, still digesting our pub lunch, opted to follow them at a far gentler pace.
There was a new seriousness about the two of us, as if the people we had been before our engagement were becoming more and more like distant relatives. Family and friends’ responses to us had changed almost overnight—suddenly I was an adult; I was respectable. In recent weeks we’d driven to Southampton to see Mel’s mum and dad and taken them out for dinner; my mum had come down to London specifically to see us both and had stayed the whole weekend at Mel’s; and we’d seen more of Mark and Julie than ever. Without fail everyone would mention our “wonderful new life together” as if our old life together had been a complete waste of time. It was hard not to feel nostalgic for the old days when we just “were.”
As we ambled along, we were drawn to the sounds coming from the adventure playground in the middle of the woods. We stood by the wire fence looking in. The climbing frames, swings and slides—in vibrant shades of red, yellow and blue—were a heaving, screaming mass of kids, like ants crawling over lollypop sticks in summer. Their parents watched enthralled at how much fun these small people could have without the aid of artificial stimulants. The noise was incredible, their Lilliputian voices communicating overwhelming joy and on occasion individual sorrow. A small boy in red dungarees tripped over whilst racing his friends to the slide and immediately burst into tears. Like a one-man ER his dad scooped him up into his arms and gave him a huge hug. Within seconds the tragedy was over and the boy was back with his friends again racing toward the slide. The whole scene reminded me of when I was small and my mum would take me and Vernie to the park. I’d always insist that Mum play football with me, and to her credit she did. She was terrible of course—it’s impossible to be a good goalkeeper in high heels—but at least she tried.
Mel nudged me gently on the shoulder, rousing me from my reminiscences. She took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Duffy?”
“Yeah,” I said breezily.
“You were somewhere else.”
“I know,” I said and kissed her.
Reaching up she put a warm hand on either side of my face, pulled me toward her and placed her lips firmly on mine. “We’re getting married,” she said excitedly.
“Yeah, we are.” Holding her hand in my own I absentmindedly rotated the engagement ring I’d bought her. It was a white gold band with a single sapphire. It wasn’t particularly expensive compared to the meteorite-sized rock arrangement Mark had commissioned for his engagement ring to Julie, but Mel seemed genuinely to love it.
“Do you think we know enough about each other?” she asked wistfully.
“Yeah, of course,” I replied. “What I don’t know about you I could write on the back of a stamp. I’d need very small handwriting, mind you.”
She punched me in the arm playfully. “Are you saying that just to shut me