Planet Mad

On Saturday I went to my first wedding of the year (out of a grand total of four or maybe five.... I'm obviously just that age). Village organists deserve to be shot. If the Queen of Sheba had arrived to music played like that she'd have turned straight round and left again. Dull and disinterested vicars should be the next in the wedding-cull. I was not, you may have noticed, impressed with the service itself. On the other hand, the reception was another bouilloire des poissons.

I first met the groom and his sister when I was 10, and we've been in touch ever since. Every year we went to camp with the St John Ambulance; I would only see them every twelve months but things didn't seem to change and the time-gap made little difference. I stopped camping with St John when I was 16 and, although I have photographs, I can remember precious little detail of the camps or the people who went.

This weekend changed all that.

The groom is still an active member of St John and the guest-list looked like a Who's Who of the camps I attended 15 years ago. People haven't changed. They look the same, have the same mannerisms and turn of phrase. What's worrying is that I remember them exactly as they looked on Saturday night. This leaves me wondering - how can I not have accounted for the passage of time? Have they just aged well? When I was young, did I assume that they were all sixty-plus because they were leaders, even when they must only have been forty? How come they all realised that Saturday's smartly dressed woman with short curly hair and glasses used to be the long-haired 16 year old wearing tatty jeans and walking boots? Have I really changed that little?! I'm not sure I want to know the answers.

It was lovely to catch up with them all: I've had invitations to join them on camp this year (although I think time will conspire against me) and next year (tempting); I've caught up with everyone's life story; I've been offered a job making teas when they're on duty for pop concerts at the Britannia Stadium. I laughed and sang and danced my little socks off, got home at 2am and then slept until nearly 3 on Sunday afternoon. I now have aching legs and a raspy voice, but it was worth it. I think I'm off now to find my old photo albums...