Ho hum, what did I promise you for this post?
Teenage angst and early adulthood, I suppose. Sitting here today, I don't know what to tell you. Despite sneaky McDonalds (before discovering Burger King) I remained on the plump side of slim, spot free, mostly incident free. Between 11 and 17 I went through various fashion disasters, two hockey B teams, the two extremes of school skirt length. I was relentlessly teased for my differentness, which had been celebrated in previous schools. I suffered for a few months until I found my band of brothers (mostly sisters) and learnt again to be proud of individuality. Although now I speak rarely to those elite few, I am Facebook friends with nearly all of them, and when we do get together it is as if it was yesterday we last met.
I changed schools at 13, and actually got on with most people. Maybe I had learnt to tone it down by then. However, my band of besties was an eclectic mix from that school, the previous one and some local boys. There was a boy I grew up with (our parents were friends) who went to school locally (I first boarded a three hour drive away, then went to a girls' school half an hour away), whose friends became mine too. My BFF remained in Somerset, resulting in a LOT of time on the phone and long holidays spent at eachothers' houses.
It was during this time that I discovered church. I didn't attend as a child, and had no religious education beyond the Brownie guide song. I always simply knew there was something out there, but we didn't get a formal introduction until I was 14. I became friends with a girl at school who was in a similar boat to me, taken from a school she adored for reasons beyond her control, nursing a best friendship with a girl sent off to board. This girl, however, went to a youth group affiliated with the local church and one day I tagged along. We used to meet on Sundays during church and 'study', for want of a better word, the Bible and Christian life. I actually spent a lot of my time studying one particular boy, who in turn spent his time studying one of the other girls. Ah, young love.
The church that we occasionally attended, usually to perform some sort of sketch learnt at the group, was Methodist. Eventually I was baptised and confirmed there. The baptism was a group affair, set in a small church on a long terraced row in a village. We had, at my suggestion, a paddling pool set up at the front, and spent some time filling buckets in the sink out the back and carrying them round to fill the pool. I and my friend got the giggles halfway through when we realised that although I had remembered to wear a swimsuit, I hadn't brought a towel and would be presenting a large damp patch on my shorts to the congregation as I went up for confirmation.
My faith was made firm in those years. I spent them surrounded by love and fellowship with awesome people. Of course, nearly all the boys dated nearly all the girls over the years, although only one of those mixes stood the test of time. Half of the gang went to church, the other half didn't. And so it went on until I was 17. Then, my life changed absolutely, whilst staying the same. Poetic, what?
The BFF in Somerset was going through some emotional upheaval, as was I (a breakup with a boy outside the gang) and unfortunately, we were too far apart to really realise the extent of the other's suffering. That summer I spent in Somerset, I came back without a best friend. I betrayed her big time, without knowing that I had until it was too late. I also met a boy, who was totally wrong for me on all sorts of levels but who was exactly the right person to get me through that time. We only stayed together a couple of months, but I actually owe him a lot. He made me see who I needed to be in my adult years.
So I'm nearly at the end of my teenage chapter. Yes, I partied, I went to school, I learnt to drive, I did teenage stuff from 17 to 20, but I ended up a bit ahead of the game by 20 as I had by now met the man I was going to marry. We met at 17, in the autumn after my epiphanic summer, moved in together at 19 (I think, it's all a bit hazy now), were married at 22. At 24 I was pregnant. Amazingly enough, although he very much does not go to church, it was through my friends at the church youth group that we met. At a halloween party. He had trashed his car earlier that day and him and our mutual friend were looking for something to do that night, so they accepted my invitation to a party held by a school friend. The rest, as they say, is history. We are celebrating our 20th year together this year with a big party in June, church wedding service, dinner and a band. I've bought a new dress! I would love it if all our friends from the era could come, but as we live in Portugal now, I'm guessing most will pass. I wish I could afford to ship you all out here!
So I have not spoken of food in all this post! That was refreshing, and a great trip down memory lane. When I sit down to write a post, I never know what's going to flow out of my tiptapping fingers. I wonder what's coming next? Stay tuned.
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