How to make a procrasto
Ingredients:
5 parts competetiveness
5 parts brilliance
3 parts leadership
Method:
Add to a cocktail shaker and mix vigorously. Add fitness to taste! Do not overindulge!

10 September 2003 - 11:35

"A super hero for the kids in the bottles..."

The one about the trip down memory lane

Two evenings ago I did something I did something I didn't expect to do.

I took the tube from Heathrow to Hammersmith. I got out and walked to the underpass. That's where I'd called her when I was lost. I followed the path through the churchyard and to the turn in the road where there was a pub, just as she had mentioned. I followed the path down under Hammersmith bridge and turned right onto the cobbled path. And saw the corner where she stood. Where I saw her for the first time. Overlooking the river. Looking as beautiful as anything I had ever seen. So I continued walking along the river and eventually came to the pub where we had stopped and supped a few pints. I sat in the window seat where we had stared at each other - looking at every contour and cute dimple. It was the seat where I had whispered "come here" and we had kissed for the first time. After I walked through the park in the dark, passed the spot where we had kissed eternally, I walked back to the tube station, Missing "Edwards", where we had stopped for nibbles. Back to the train and to the same hotel where we had camped out for two consecutive nights eating pizza and laughing at British television.

I have no idea what possessed me to do that; to take that trip down memory lane.

Perhaps I needed to.

Perhaps, despite my own self-denial, I miss her.

Perhaps I needed to go and relive a moment and to realise that she would not be there.

I know she set the bar, in terms of what I was looking for in a partner, a woman. And I've been looking up at that bar, trying to figure a way over it, without ever really knowing how. And nobody else could ever come close to it either. Because if for a second I thought they could, it would take away the memory and topple the pedestal.

So taking that walk made me realise that she was not there. She will never be there. "We" came and "We" went and now she's doing her own thing - and I'm glad for her.

And perhaps that bar should be removed and stored away. And I should concentrate on finding a brand new shiny one. God knows I'm ready...

Coz until now I haven't been fair to myself or anyone who's been vaguely interested.

Ironically, when I got back to the hotel, I switched on the TV and "The Talented Mr Ripley" was on. Just at the part where Tom Ripley is playing the piano and explaing that:

"Don't you just take the past and put it in a room, in the basement, then lock the door and never go in there? That's what i do. And then you meet someone special, and all you want to do is toss them the key say, 'Open up, step inside.' but you can't. because it's dark. and there are demons. and if anybody ever saw how ugly... if i could take a giant eraser and rub out everything, starting with myself...

...Well, whatever you do, however terrible, however hurtful, it all makes sense, doesnt it? in your head. i mean, you never meet anyone who thinks they're a bad person."

Hmmm. It seemed somehow very appropriate. Some of me wishes I could tell her this... and to explain the impact she had on me...

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