BABS 1973

It's 1973, I am 25. I am nearing the end of my 5th year at Manchester and about to gain a BArch and start working in an architect's office for real. I went shopping from the house opposite the Halls of Residence and unbelievably ran into a girl who was resident there with me 3 years before just walking along the road – she had left Manchester two years before – what was she doing there? I had always wanted her but she was Arnie's. We greeted each other incredulously, and I invited her back to the house for a coffee and chat.

She was living about 6 miles north of Manchester and had just come back from Africa after working for an aid agency; she had a powerful motorbike (fortunately I had a motorbike licence) and (as I discovered) was wearing rather a large number of layers as she felt the cold.

She invited me for the weekend and after she had got rid of her brother we made the most of being alone together . . . . “We should have done this a long time ago” I said; so we made up for the lost time. But unfortunately I was due to leave Manchester in 6 weeks, so the relationship was automatically time limited, which made it all the more exquisite.

About 4 months later my mother was surprised to see a motorbike draw up and a figure in full leathers and helmet knock on her door. She opened the door and only when Babs removed the helmet and she saw the flowing auburn hair did she realise it was a girl. “Hello, I'm a friend of Roger's, and as I happened to be passing I thought I would call on you”. So she was invited in and proceeded to subtly quiz mother about me and our life, and of course poor lonely mother poured it all out. When she had heard enough Babs thanked her for a most interesting afternoon, and roared off.

She also came and visited me in London at about the same time, in rather curious circumstances. She asked if she could stay for the weekend and I dragged another bed into my bedroom for her - I had every expectation we were resuming our relationship. She arrived and I showed he round my dark, shared, basement flat and rather cluttered bedroom with two single beds next to each other. We spent the day together happily seeing the sights, but then she said goodbye with no mention of staying the night, and no explanation. I never saw her again.

What was going on? I had (and still have) the feeling she was making up her mind about something and didn't like what she saw. She was probably right.

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