Rolling Stone

Firstly allow me to apologise for the tardiness of my correspondence. I confess it has been over 20 years since my last utterance...

You find me, foxy reader, in a reflective and unsettled frame of mind. In fact, you're lucky to find me here at all, given that I've spent a good deal of my otherwise indolent Sunday at high school. Porpoise Spit State High School to be precise, during the years 1982 - 1986. I was thrown without notice onto this whirlwind ride aboard the Nostalgia Express by my friend Brendan.

Motivated by that most persuasive of devils -- study avoidance -- Brendan spent a bit of time recently fossicking about the net and happened upon a link to Suburban Safari, and subsequently graced me with an email. There I was, Brendanless for 20 years, then voilá! like a genie he just pops out of the bandwidth bottle to brighten my weekend. Such a happy-making surprise for your Sunday-dulled correspondent, and flattering, too, that he'd remember me and consider it worth the effort.

He and I go back a way. Quite a way. We were first classmates in primary school in 1981, but it is from years 9 and 10 that my more vivid memories of him date. I recall us sitting in class, giggling, trying to outwit and out do each other with wicked wisecracks and surreal silliness. And landing in trouble for it, of course. We shared a keen sense of the absurd, and I, at least, got a real kick out of letting it out to run when he was around. Brendan really made me laugh, was constantly surprising, so I was always pleased when I was able to do the same.

But times change, sometimes taking personalities with them. He's now a financial advisor; I'm not even sure what that means, let alone having met one. Going back is always a gamble, don't you find? There have been people I've not seen for decades to whom, when I run into them, I relate as if we'd never lost contact. Those times are truly wonderful. With others, it's awkward, dissappointing. Those uncomfortable encounters leave a stain on memories of easier times. Somehow, our mind alters the view we had on events past -- we reappraise the relationship we had and who they really were, and once those recollections are changed they're never the same again. Memories are one of the few things we can truly call our own, so going back is not without its risks.

Brendan and I have arranged to meet for coffee. I'm looking forward to it.