Friends getting married whilst I’m destined to be mad cat man.
ONE MONTH AGO – AMSTERDAM
A month ago I was having a long weekend in Amsterdam, whilst taking in a fascinating and cultural tour around the city (not the dirty red light district – nosiree) I had the surprise of bumping into an old acquaintance as we passed through the Jewish quarter.
“Adam!” I shouted, a little too loudly, the moment our eyes met.
I’m quite poor with names so I was just chuffed I could recall his through the fog of time. Although to be fair its hard for me to forget his name, Uni may have been seven years ago but I fondly remember spending numerous weeks in the Spring of ‘02 brokering a tentative peace settlement between himself and his girlfriend, a good friend of mine called Jenny.
Those were the days.
Anyway we didn’t really have time to stop and chat, we exchanged a manly hug and he introduced me to his new girlfriend Clair and explained to her how close we were. “We used to go to the same rock club!” But it was all very brief, my tour group and friends were melting into a labyrinth of streets ahead of me so we made plans to facebook and hook up sometime later. (How many times have I said that for it not to happen?)
Anyway the stars obviously wanted me to keep my promise. The small world kept getting smaller and I bumped into him again the next night on a tram.
Now my years in intelligence haven’t been wasted on me as one thing immediately struck me about Adam. He was wearing a suit. On holiday. I only wear a suit when protocol forces me too. And even then I’m usually in trainers. I break all the rules. Anyway this un-nerved me slightly. Mainly because Adam was two years younger and people younger than me should never wear suits out of choice. Adam was different from when I last knew him seven years previous, as patronising as this sounds,I remember him being a hesitant, nervy kinda guy who liked System of a Down. But lo! Before me was a calm and confident man bereft of a stoop. It was almost like he’d……… grown up.
Actually he was very grown up. He owned a house (fair enough – I like renting – honest – I don’t imagine murdering my flatmates EVER), was a marketing manager at the Home Office (same as me – well I work for a non compartmental government body and we have temps – its close) and drum roll please…. had 10 minutes previous just proposed to his girlfriend…..
“You’re the first to know!” She exclaimed, flashing a ring at me, smiling so broadly her head was in danger of splitting in two. It was very sweet but ever so slightly surreal. This wasn’t what I was expecting in Amsterdam. I was expecting art, bicycles and debauchery and not to be congratulating Adam Addison on getting married.
“You know you haven’t changed a bit.” Adam said, smiling from ear to ear and slapping me on the arm. Which I think was meant to be a compliment but the look up and down he gave me wasn’t reassuring. Did he not approve of my grubby trainers, ripped jeans and leather jacket? Maybe he meant I’d retained my youthful good looks through the years? Or was he mocking me!?!
Had I really not changed that much? Seven years is such a long time and I’ve accomplished so …… much….. I’m ………sure……. I now own two consoles and don’t live cheque to cheque. That’s progress isn’t it? Plus I don’t exclusively wear Carharrt jeans anymore. I’m practically a different person. Actually as we were speaking I was rocking a pair of Cheap Monday’s. It was apparent Adam wasn’t qualified to make such a bold statement in the face of overwhelming evidence suggesting otherwise.
“Anyway this is our stop.” Said Adam “Where is your hotel?”
“Zelctanshauung.” I said, omitting the fact I was staying in a hostel but whats a continent between friends? Plus hadn’t he seen the exchange rate? Its £9 here for a bloody sandwich!
And with that he and his new wife to be were skipping off through the night. Waving goodbye and giggling to each other.
“Last year I took some kids to Borneo to build a school!” I shouted as I waved them off.
Fuck.
Me in Amsterdam. Looking mature and ting.
