Been thinking about this for a while and today seems a good day to make a start. Not sure how long this will be and how many parts I will manage before I run out of steam or if I will be able to maintain a consistent writing style but here goes. Let me know your thoughts along the way.

1986

It was a fairly standard weekend option for our little group of friends, one or more designated drivers would transport us all to Belle Vue for a night of drinking and 10-pin bowling, the few of us with girlfriends would bring them along and we would secretly hope that the wait for a lane was at least a couple of hours so we could down a few pints in the bar first. So this particular Friday (it could have been a Saturday but I intend to use artistic licence to avoid such uncertainties and make this readable) wasn’t unusual, Bri was rocking up with a new girlfriend to show off to us all and the rest of us were flying solo. This particular new girlfriend was appropriately dressed for the evening in skinny jeans and high heels and was a gorgeous 16 year old brunette that had recently started at De La Salle 6th form college and had fallen for the charms of my good mate. She went by the name of Jackki and entertained the drunken group all evening with a unique bowling style that seemed to defy physics.

Jackki and her friend Susan became a part of our little band of friends zipping around the northwest from drinking spot to drinking spot until after a short period she vanished. That was also far from unusual when it came to the relationships of our mate Bri who continued that pattern for some time, letting some absolute gems slip from his grasp.

1987

Some time in early spring of 1987, Jackki started to appear on Eccles market after finishing work at the local library each Saturday. She would totter across the market wearing a short skirt and high heels, looking anything but a librarian, and come over to the baby clothes stall I was working at for a chat. She would hang around for a while, bearing the brunt of lots of stallholder banter like the rest of us and then head off to visit her Grandfather in Ladywell Hospital. I used to look forward to her friendly visits and was content this was just an ex-girlfriend of a mate being genuine and friendly. After she left each time I would get suitably abused by my uncle Dave, who’s stall I was working on, for not asking her out when it was obvious to him that there could be more than a friendship available.

Eventually, in early April, I asked her to come along to the celebrations for my 18th birthday in the Windmill, Swinton followed by City Lights nightclub in Farnworth, we knew how to live! She turned me down. Apparently she was busy that night and I think the reason was something to do with her best friend Joanne and her partner Carl, who may have done us both a favour since the night was a messy one. What Jackki missed on that potential first date involved a stripper dressed as a bride, a naked and very dunk Adi in the Windmill thanks to said stripper and then a drunken snog with an ex girlfriend in the dark at City Lights. A close escape I would say.

So we are back on the market and the pressure is still on for Adi to score a date with his stilettoed librarian and the genius idea he comes up with is a game of squash. I suspect she was somewhat confused by this curveball tactic and accepted, a court was booked in Irlam leisure centre that week. Seriously folks, gym skirts are not good for the concentration on a squash court, I can still close my eyes and see the scene clearly now. After the game we rolled into the sports centre bar where Jackki said hello to some ugly twat, gave him a kiss and introduced me to her boyfriend, I cant remember his name so lets just call him Turd. I mean FFS.

Roll forward a couple of weeks, I suggest another game of squash, figuring at worst I will have some more gym skirt imagery to think about, and the evening is repeated. This time I asked about Turd on the way to the sports centre and was told that he was about to be flushed away, Turd was about to be dumped. We skipped the bar this time and I drove Jackki home in the trusty Mini, as we stopped outside Brentwood under cover of the trees my little heart was racing. We chatted, saying our farewells and then I just leaned over and went straight for the kiss. Success, she kissed me back. Our farewells took a little longer and we were a couple from that moment on, never looking back.

Our summer of love in 1987 was a time in life when we cemented friendships with our little group that have lasted a lifetime. Bri and I went off to Spain for a drunken holiday where I sent a crass and over confident postcard to Jackki that could have seen me flushed like Turd but she had enough confidence in us already to brush off the drunken idiot humour and laugh, she still has that postcard in a box in the loft. As I returned from Spain to collect my A-Level results, which my mum had steamed open and re-sealed, it was confirmed that I would be heading for Lancaster University in September, leaving Jackki and our new relationship behind to start her second year at 6th Form.