The front
The back
Back in the day, I had friends who sent me postcards. These days they either e-mail, send an expensive text, or we just chat as usual via Windows Live Messenger (formerly MSN Messenger). This week’s archive postcard is from Chomas, a friend of mine from school days.
Before you read the text of the postcard, you may be interested to know that Tom was the chap that I ran over on my bike somewhere between Arisaig and Mallaig. It was his fault, he’d clumsily hit a “passing place” on the single-track road while looking at his chainset. It was making a funny noise, seemingly. But not as funny a noise as him hitting a hillock at 20 mph, coming off his bike and landing on the road right in front of me.
What could I do? I hit him, of course!
To cut a long story short, his brother delivered a replacement bike that evening and took me home, with big holes in my hands, knees and hips. It was like stigmata but in the wrong places and less holy.
I’ve a feeling that this was a holiday he took shortly after that dramatic tour; I may be completely wrong.
Dear Gareth,
Having a wonderful wet holiday here in Orkney. We’ve visited quite a few of the ancient neolithic sites, gone around some of the other islands, done some cycling (with difficulty ‘cos I bent the crank on my 4-day-old chainset in a slight accident) played some golf in the rain, and gone for some cliff walks in the rain.
I’ve also done some fishing. I managed to hook and land myself a terrible 4 day cold (ever heard of it) which is just starting to subside now thanks to the help of a few (hundred) tissues.
Thomas
What I think he meant was: wish you were here!
I love how you blanked out the first line of your address, especially as your mum is moving now (isn’t she?) – is this to discourage stalking?!
I thought I should make an effort to protect the innocent. And yes, Mum’s moving … more news on that soon.
How come the address says ‘Northern Britain’, and not Scotland?
Oh how I remember this!
Your legs looking the way they did of course.
I couldn’t believe so much skin could come off someone’s legs!
I’ve seen worse – but usually on dead things.
Gareth must still be wearing the scars.
And the Northern Britiain thing – well, Tom was a true-blue Unionist at the time. He liked Britain so much he now lives in New Zealand. How queer.