How do you change as you get older? With luck you mellow and find your still centre. Your heart. I find that happening to me increasingly as I approach 60. When I was about 17 I went to college. My sixth form college was at the end of a long road in Twickenham. I walked down it towards classes in English, History and Politics. Constructing myself I now realise.
I was virginal and innocent. I didn't know anything about the world and very little about women. The street to the college was long and straight. Beautiful young women walked up and down. In the morning and the late afternoon. Long coats. Straight hair. Some incredible beauties. Mysterious. And deeply lovely. The young women of South West London. Or at least my part of it.
I built up a friendship with one of them. A true sensitive beauty. Hungarian blood. Artistic temperament. She's since become an artist. And done alright for herself. I went round to her house. Just off Kew Green one sunny day. She served me fig rolls and tea in the kitchen. We chatted with her lovely mother and charming sister. Her dad came into the kitchen.A f riendly, affable man. He'd left Humgary after 1956. Married the true sensitive beauty's mother and settled down in Kew for blissful family life.The true sensitive beauty played me Howard Jones and talked about how much she liked him. I enjoyed the fig rolls.Howard Jones not quite so much.
Later there was an embarassing everning when I met her in Twickenham on a Saturday evening. We went for some drinks. Then I walked her back to the train. As she got into the compartment, (those old carriages where you could lean out of the window). I asked her if I could kiss her. She said I could. She proffered her cheek towards me. But I misunderstood and went to kiss her lips. She was embarrassed. Ducked away. The train shot off. She called me up a couple of days later. Said I like you but....
It didn't matter at the time. There are always more straight haired dark eyed beauties to fall in love with when you're 17. Our friendship endured and blossomed. She started going out with one of my friends. Told me how she liked James Taylor. Played me, perhaps gave me Gorilla , I don't remember I didn't think much more of James Taylor than I did of Howard Jones at the time. I thought it was bland.
I like James Taylor now. I listened to Sweet Baby James last night. It's sweet and soft and bruised. but wise. Like a Georgia Peach
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