Monday, January 8
I sat in the classroom, impatiently waiting for C to arrive. It was the first lesson of the morning ands we hadn’t had a chance to meet up beforehand. My bag was thrown across the desk next to mine, to save her a place and behind me sat Chris and Richard.
C walked in and dashed over excitedly, “you’ll never guess what I got this morning!” she told me brandishing a familiar looking envelope in front of me.
“I got one too!” We squealed happily at each other as teenage girls tend to do. I pulled the letter out of my pocket and slapped it down on the desk in front of me but at that moment the teacher walked into the room. There was a cacophony of chairs scraping back along the wooden floor as everyone scrambled to their feet and chanted, “Good Morning Mr Hunt” more or less together, but less enthusiastically.
We slid our letters under our text books and waited. Fifteen minutes later Mr Hunt sloped off out the room, warning us to stay silent and work. Ten seconds later everyone was chatting away and no one was working.
I gave my letter to C and she passed me hers. We opened them. They were our first love letters, from two boys we had met that summer of ‘87 in Pos. Two boys that we had talked to, hid from, but never even kissed. The letters were identical apart from the addresses on the front. Seconds later, Richard who was sitting behind us, swooped in and plucked the letter out of C‘s hand. Delightedly he read aloud:
Hallo! How are you? We hope fine! We not very since when you go to London. We felt you much that for one day we have thought to arrive in England our small motor. D does like you very much and he feet bad when he was superfluous. In September 1988 we come to visit you in England.
I hope that write us and sand your telephone number.
Hugs and kisses, your wooer.
“Wooer!” Richard crowed in disbelief, “hahaha, they’ve got wooers!” Chris sniggered and dramatically put his hand on his heart, kneeling on the floor,”I am your wooer! Please let me woo yooo!” The classroom erupted in laughter and I snatched the letter back. C’s face was bright red as we stuffed our precious letters into our bags.
The funny thing is that normally these ‘wooers’ would only be a distant memory, but not in the weird world of Positano. Twenty years later I still see our ‘wooers’ on the beach every summer, and we always exchange greetings!
at 12:30 PM