Saturday, October 31, 2009

They do things differently there

Mark T was slightly younger than me and attended posh boys' school the Edinburgh Academy (the uniform, tweedy green, often with brown leather elbow patches, epitomised the school). I met him at a party in the year when the record du jour was Sade, Diamond Life (1985). I was 16 and had already had my heart broken twice. Mark affected the shabby chic of rich kids in the 1980s: his jumpers were cashmere but they had holes in them and he wore battered, pointy suede boots which excited the rude attention of the neds in my village when he arrived on the bus to see me, getting off two stops early by mistake and walking in his innocent fashion through the heart of the lion's den. Mark came from an extremely wealthy family whose house, overlooking the Botanic Gardens, was rented by Elizabeth Taylor one year during the Edinburgh Festival. His pretty blonde sister, 14, had an account card at Benetton. Mark had the entire top floor to himself; he had a juke box, and a pool table, and huge groups of us used to sit around listening to Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground.

I liked Mark, and he said I was beautiful, but he was a bit timid, and I was more interested in Simon D who had a dangerous edge to him (it all seems absurd now); so I dumped Mark and snogged Simon in front of him, in Mark's own bedroom. I don't think about it very often but when I do, I still feel guilty about being so callous.

I was talking to my friend Peter recently about how you can be haunted by hurt you think you've caused someone else; in the meantime they get on with their lives without, probably, a second thought about it. We were imagining what it might be like to be able to go back and say sorry and how delighted, or more likely astonished, the recipient would be.

Simon D aged badly and became something of a joke. I have no idea what happened to Mark. He is probably a lawyer somewhere. I still remember the hurt that someone else caused me in 1985 (clearly "I bear more grudges/Than lonely High Court judges"), of which more some other time - repent, Dougie, damn you! - though despite my exaggeration here for the sake of a story, it doesn't bother me at all anymore. But I can't swear that a little piece of me would not be rather gratified if Dougie came back to apologise. I wish I could do the same for Mark.

17 comments:

nmj said...

Gorgeous post, simply gorgeous.

LottieP said...

Thanks, nmj. It did occur to me that I might have taken pleasure in hurting Mark partly because he was so rich. Can't have everything, nyah! But also, I couldn't believe he really liked me, therefore I proved to him he shouldn't. The sorry sick world of the teenager...

Anonymous said...

First of all, congratulations on becoming a Top Hong Kong Blog.

Mark T sounds like a right puff, well done for dumping him.

(No point me being anonymous, is there?)

I think the rich find it easier to call people beautiful because they have no fear of contradiction and no fear of being told that they have no right to even a tangential relationship with the concept of beauty, let alone any of its earthly representatives. I recently realised that I really really hate being working class, it has held me back in so many ways, including in the matter with which we are concerning ourtselves in this blog post (which is indeed gorgeous) and I really really resent it. I know I shouldn't, but I do. So ner.

LottieP said...

Thank you, Anonymous. Mark was a nice guy, actually. It's not his fault his family were quite astonishingly rich. Care to comment on the original topic?

Anonymous said...

You're not going to believe this, Lottie, but I just lost my lenghty and heartfelt reply to the original matter. I don't think I can do it again, but I will try to summarize:

I like shabby rich people really.

I feel the need/desire to apologise for being overbearing, but to apologise for being overbearing is quite overbearing, and it is even more overbearing to expect any kind of response, especially the positive one I would hope for/require.

Not sure I want to talk about this in public, even anonymously. I just keep deleting stuff. Not really fair on Person X, is it? Plus, I might become an internet phenomenon like Belle de Jour.

mancsoulsister said...

I bumped into an ex of mine, a few years ago and apologised to him. (similar to you only the person I snogged was his best friend). The snogging incident had happened about 15 years previously. The person in question thought it was very funny that I had been feeling so guilty all these years about snogging his best mate. While he had not completely forgotten about the incident, he certainly was long since over it.

Interestingly we actually became friends again after my apology so it was altogether a good experience. I would recommend it if you ever bump into Mark again! :-)

Anonymous said...

Woah!

(How do people get over things? What's wrong with them?)

Anonymous said...

Hello, me again. For the record, you were all right. My apology was met with general bemusement. I don't think it's done any harm though, apart from me feeling like a bit of a fool, and I can take that easily enough. It has certainly done me good. So yay.

LottieP said...

Sighs of relief all round, Anonymous...

Anonymous said...

Mmm...

Claire said...

I've been keeping quiet on this subject because of things I may or may not have done with Simon D. There's no proof! He stole a treasured t-shirt from me, though. If you're reading this, Simon, I'd like to have it back please.

Re. Dougie, I'll track him down for you if you like. He's probably still here.

LottieP said...

Yuck. The less said about Simon the better. So full of himself.

As for Dougie, I heard his parents accepted him back home (Nile Grove in Morningside? - you'll remember why he was kicked out, Claire). He went to Sandhurst and then had a career in radio, although I think I might have imagined the last two possibilities.

Claire said...

Do you remember Dougie's surname?

LottieP said...

Er. Yes. McG...

PJ Miller said...

Did you locate Dougie? What a fun Christmas you could have with all this.

LottieP said...

I'll have you know I made no attempt to locate the man - leather-jacket-wearin', Dire-Straits-lovin', lyin' and cheatin' Dougie.

LottieP said...

I have an update on this. I found Mark, or someone I am damn sure is Mark, on LinkedIn. I emailed him, of course, to apologise, within the constraints of the ridiculous word limit LinkedIn impose. Answer came there none! So I'm either forgiven, or absolutely not forgiven.