The lad himself…

There he is the lad himself; twenty-something not yet twenty-five, Ibiza, Tenerife or some such place, too much hair, a pack of Benson and Hedges, and a swift pint for breakfast – oh yes, the lad himself on holiday abroad in his favourite shirt and wishing he was somewhere else.

I’ve never been one for having my photograph taken and photos of me from teens to thirties are rarer than hen’s teeth, so when this turned up recently – well, I was more than a little surprised at what I had once been.

I’ve never been much of a smiler:

“Say cheese.”
“Go screw yourself.”

See that look? I recognise the look far easier than I recognise the face that’s looking it. That’s a look I’ve made all of my life, the look of how I feel inside. If you look closely you’ll see the question in it, the doubt and uncertainty, the scorn, the boredom, the wanting the next thing. Don’t worry it’s only there to mask what I’m really feeling and it’s mainly (mainly mind) aimed at myself not anyone around me – although they sometimes got caught in the ripple… and still do come to think of it. The look’s mainly dissatisfaction, but there’s a touch of disappointment, a smidgeon of disbelief because always somewhere in my mind has been: “What am I doing here, and why am I doing it, and why am I doing it with you?”

My head back then was a mess of worries. I’d taken on far too much before I’d really done anything you see, never tried for the things I knew that I wanted; instead settling for what was there simply because it was there and my misplaced sense of duty tied me to it. Not that I didn’t care, I cared plenty, but I knew even then what it was costing me, even though I pretended all was fine and just got on with things, sometimes I even had fun, sometimes I almost believed, but always that look to remind me.

You should have cut and run you stupid boy. What had you to lose? Just look where it ended up; you let me down you know and I hate you for it.

Oh, well, too late to change things now, it’s all so long ago. There he goes the lad himself and it was almost nice knowing him.