Two days of our holiday. July 28. We were in Kent, visiting family, when Lizzie gave me the opportunity to do my own thing. I took the chance with both hands. A quick search online to find the phone number, a deep breath and call. Hugh and I were best mates at secondary school and then started our apprenticeship at a printing firm at the same time. I moved on from that job in 1980; Hugh stayed there. We hadn’t seen each other for 46 years!
“Hello, is that Hugh? It’s Paul Cook here.”
“Bloody hell! Paul Cook.”
We agreed to meet up at a cafe at the top end of Hythe High Street, while Lizzie was at the bottom end of the High Street seeing her step-mum.
I waited nervously. Not knowing quite what to expect. And there he was. A firm handshake. Food and drinks ordered. And then we reminisced… for two hours. My opening gambit was to tell him that I was brought up in a strict, religious family. He had no idea. I must have hidden it well. But then it came out that he had three siblings, when I thought he was an only child. And so we talked…
About our time at Headley’s, about the years that followed. I suspect I talked more, but he didn’t seem to mind. Our story as a family is full of twists and turns, deserts and forests, lush landscapes, all intertwined. He wanted to talk about my blog, which we did, and then continued to talking about my Papa, the God I have discovered over the years, back and forth, three steps forward, two steps back. It was a wonderful two hours, of reconnecting, understanding each other better than we ever did before.
As the conversation drew to a close Hugh said, “You should write a book.” “Sod off!” And then explained that he was now the fourth person to nudge me into writing a book. So I have started. It’s hard work, but very therapeutic. As for my old mate and I… I think we will meet up again. I realised afterwards that I hadn’t talked about Thailand!
Three weeks on, and we were on holiday in Shropshire. We wanted to visit a Victorian Town which is part of the IronBridge project. Little did I know. We had a great day out, and were just working our back through the streets of this town and found the printers – a working printers as they did in victorian times. As we stepped in, I froze. It was as if I had been transported back to those early days at Headley’s. The man working in there, was talking to an older couple about how things worked. As he neared the end of his conversation, I chipped in: “I used to do this stuff when I started an apprenticeship back in 1975. The man behind the counter, doffed his cap in recognition of a fellow craftsman. It was a very special moment. One I won’t forget in a hurry.
There is no moral to the story, no pearls of wisdom. Except to say, I’m no longer afraid of my past. At least, until the next time.
