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Coming of Age Friendship

It was twenty-five years ago when my old pal, left The Big Smoke. Pete had struggled to get regular work as a snapper in London and had nothing to lose by accepting a staff photographer post with a Spanish newspaper. 

It’s only for a year, he’d said, enjoying one last pint with me the night before he left. 

You might meet the love of your life, I said 

You’re joking? A year will be enough for me. 

Clinking glasses together, we laughed.

I couldn’t stand all the excitement, he said, frowning. 

Neither of us believed it’d work out, however, he never returned. 

The hypnotic lights of Barcelona changed his life forever.

#

I visited Pete half a dozen times when he first moved to the Costa Brava. Before he bought his first car, he’d meet me at the airport on his new Yamaha Low-Rider. We’d grab a quick cortado and then I’d jump on the pillion seat, lean back and off we’d go. Pete used to weave between the slow-moving lanes of local traffic and zip past the dazzling overhead street lights. Those were the days before they enforced the helmet laws. I’m too long in the tooth to risk that now. The city’s pace of life has quadrupled and there’s way too much traffic.

#

Back in the day, the citizens of Barcelona spoke the Catalan language first and Spanish second. Pete was from South London, however he maintained his new position because his mother’s family lived in Girona and they all speak Catalan. He had plenty of opportunities to improve his fluency and enjoyed the challenge. Life was working out well for him and before long he showed no signs of returning to Britain.

#

I visited Barcelona in 1992, during Pete’s first year, and occasionally killed time if he was working late. Often I had to wait for him to process and deliver the day’s shots to his picture editor. Sometimes I’d wander around the immediate area, take in the sights and sample the local tapas bars. I made myself understood despite my poor command of Spanish and encountering few people who spoke English. Young British ravers hadn’t discovered Ibiza’s nightclub and started invading Barcelona en masse prior to sailing to the Balearic islands for endless nights of ecstasy-fuelled dancing. Nowadays, the locals would sooner speak English than Spanish and enjoy a share of the English currency that washes through the city.

When Pete first moved there, it was unusual to converse with an English-speaking native. In 1992, there was one fledgling language school run by a bunch of wayward British graduates. They were hispanophiles who loved the languid pace of life in Barcelona and taught English as a foreign language. The ramshackle language school business expanded way beyond their expectations and nowadays, it’s possible to hear the English tongue everywhere in the city; especially in the central tourist areas; former bastions of Catalan. 

#

When Pete’s father died, he visited London for the funeral. Gerry was only fifty-seven, which is no age to pass away nowadays. Pete had paid for his father’s flights to Barcelona and had made little effort to return to South London. He had forgotten the everyday stuff you take for granted when you live here. I collected him from Gatwick Airport in my car and he groaned when we joined the nose-to-tail traffic on the M23, heading back to central London. 

Is it always this bad? he asked. 

You’ve been in Spain too long, I said, laughing as we chugged to a standstill. 

I thought Barcelona was bad for traffic, Pete said. 

You ain’t seen nothing yet, I said. You’re lucky we missed rush hour. 

#

With life long friends it’s easy to pick up the conversation where it ended last time. Pete had regrets about not spending more time with his father. You know what? I said. It’s better to have quality time than to get bored and fight. True, he said, nodding and scanning the sea of metal boxes ahead. Is there any chance of a detour? 

You should have said you wanted the scenic route. 

We headed away from the congestion at the next junction and meandered through the leafy suburbs due South of the city. My alternative to the congested motorway gave us both a time for reflection and comparison. 

These were green-fields when I was here last, he said. 

It’s been a while, I sighed. What do you miss most?

I don’t know where to start, Pete said.

There’s a pen and paper in the glove box. 

I’m only here for a couple of days.

Why don’t you list your top ten, I said. 

Is this the start of an adventure?

You can tick them off during your visit.

#

I’d taken it for granted that Pete had kept in touch with his family in Britain and assumed he’d visited his them on a tight schedule and not had time to meet me. It never occurred to me he’d remained in Barcelona all along and hosted all their visits to Spain. Maybe it’s easier to find a spare room than take a flight home when you’re living in an exotic location. 

#

Do you fancy a drink?

The beer’s different in Spain. 

In what way, I asked.

It’s served cold for a start.

You don’t get bitter over there?

Not unless you go to an Irish bar, he said, biting his lip. 

Guinness isn’t the same thing, though.

Well, no, not really, I suppose that--- .

That’s stout, I said. You mean bitter, don’t you?

Right. He said, nodding. I’ll put it on the list.

We laughed out loud, as we compiled his bucket list. I can’t imagine going without a cooked breakfast for twenty-five years. No bacon and eggs? No Cumberland sausage and black pudding. Coleman’s mustard and Helman’s mayonnaise are always essential items in my household. Winkles and muscles I could live without. He missed popular BBC programmes like “Match Of The Day.” British full fat ice-cream and fresh cow milk we on the list; Pete was tired of the UHT substitute that’s available in Spain. There were more than ten things he missed; everyday items that I’d taken for granted living in London. 

#

I pulled over at a charming thatched pub with walls painted a pale shade of pastel blue and parked outside. Pete twisted his face as he inspected the straw on the roof and shook his head as though he’d seen a spaceship.

I think you need a pint, I said, slapping his back and chuckling.

I don’t remember what you call any of this stuff anymore, he said.

It’ll all come back to you, Pete.

I’m not staying long enough for that.

#

Pete stumbled forward as he ducked under the low ceiling beams and crashed down at a table by the window. A couple of pints of bitter, please, I said. The barman nodded at me and made a comment about Pete being lost or worse for wear. 

He’s all right, I said. He’s been away for a couple of decades. 

Inside you mean? He asked, narrowing his eyes and gauging whether I’d fallen into dangerous company. 

What? Oh no, I said, he’s been living in Spain. 

He nodded, scooped off the excess froth and topped up our drinks. Just as long as you don’t mean the other, he said, we don’t want no trouble here. 

I thanked him and carried our glasses to the window table.

I think I’ve become Spanish, Pete said.

Here, I said, take a sip of your bitter.

You know, I dream in Spanish now?

Another pint will sort that out.

I’ll drink to that, old friend.

Cheers anyway, I said,

Good health, he said.

It’ll all come back again.

It’s going to take time.

One down, nine to go.


The End




December 24, 2022 04:58

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27 comments

12:28 Dec 30, 2022

I really enjoyed this. It reminded me a lot of trips to London and hanging out with my coworkers back in the day, drinking that oddly delicious and slightly warm and sweet beverage called "bitter". I could picture Pete very well having known many expats like him out here in asia. Somehow having the inline dialogue made it better than having quote marks all over the place. How the ending sentences became shorter was like poetry. Great work.

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Howard Halsall
07:49 Dec 31, 2022

Hi Scott, Thank you for taking the time to read my story and leave your positive and thoughtful comments. BTW - I agree with you concerning the speech marks. They can clutter up writing, especially when the narrator’s voice dominates the storytelling. Have a great year in 2023. Take care HH

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Stevie Burges
09:43 Dec 29, 2022

Howard This captured exactly how things are for me every time I revisit the UK. I felt it captured the difficulties of appearing so 'native' but clearly having difficulties using 'local' names (such as the bitter and stout). I particularly like the way you split your stories into different paragraphs to move the story along - and move along it. Keep writing I enjoy your stories.

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Howard Halsall
09:13 Dec 30, 2022

Hi Stevie, Thank you for reading my story and leaving your positive feedback. It’s gratifying to find it rings true and encapsulates that detached feeling of return to a once familiar place. Take care HH

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Helen A Smith
17:41 Dec 28, 2022

Nice light touch to this story of different languages and cultures. There was sadness to old friends picking up the pieces and catching up. It was interesting to see the effect living in a different country had had on Pete, to the extent that for him there was no going back.

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Howard Halsall
09:46 Dec 30, 2022

Hi Helen, Thank you for reading my story and leaving your thoughts; they’re much appreciated. Going back anywhere after a long period is always challenging, however returning home can be traumatic. A patient old friend can help and a sense of humour is invaluable. Take care HH

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Francis Daisy
11:50 Dec 28, 2022

The flow of their friendship moved so nicely through your story. I loved reading the tales of their visits and how people change, yet our friendships remain. True friends are like this.

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Howard Halsall
09:18 Dec 30, 2022

Hi Francis, Thank you for taking the time to read my story and leave your positive feedback. I wasn’t sure if the time span might be an issue with this idea, so thank you for highlighting the flow of the friendship, that was helpful. Take care HH

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Mary Lehnert
21:08 Dec 26, 2022

I enjoyed this story of meeting up years later with old friends. Those nostalgic memories so vivid yet tinged with pathos Thankyou Howard.

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Howard Halsall
01:03 Dec 27, 2022

Hi Mary, Thank you for reading my story, I’m pleased it struck a harmonious chord. I find a solid friendship never dies and it often matures and gets better with time. As long as the shared sense of humour remains intact, those bonds of friendship last forever. I trust you’re enjoying a pleasant festive period and hope you’ll have an inspiring new year. Take care HH

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Mary Lehnert
01:22 Dec 27, 2022

And to you too, Howard. You make those great friends but only at a young age. Time burnishes and gives them so much depth. I enjoy your writing. Thankyou so much

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A. Neptune
06:31 Dec 26, 2022

I liked this, especially how old friends can slip so seamlessly back after a long stretch apart. There was a bit of sadness I feel when he returned, and not just from his father's death, but as he realized how much he'd changed in his time away. Well written!

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Howard Halsall
09:15 Dec 26, 2022

Hello A, Thank you leaving your thoughts and commenting on the melancholy nature of the story. I think there’s always a shock when one rekindles an old friendship, especially in a once familiar environment. The nature of the changes can be both overwhelming and undermining; everything is the same, but completely different. As you remarked, it is indeed the test of a good friendship when the banter flows seamlessly; a good sense humour always helps. I’m pleased you enjoyed the story and glad it achieved its aim. TBH - it’s tricky to convey su...

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Wendy Kaminski
01:17 Dec 26, 2022

I loved this story of the return of a native son who's been away too long, and the complexities of how things change in your absence... and how you change while it stays the same. I loved the theme of the friendship remaining constant in a world of change. Lovely story, Howard, and very well-conveyed!

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Howard Halsall
09:00 Dec 26, 2022

Hello Wendy, Thank you leaving your thoughtful comments. I’m pleased you enjoyed the story and glad it achieved its aim. TBH it’s tricky to convey such a complex idea in so few words so I’m relieved it made sense. I trust you’re enjoying a relaxing festive break and thank you for taking the time to read my story. Take care HH

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Graham Kinross
04:01 Feb 02, 2023

This reminds me of a lot of reunions of people I went to university with. They disappear all over the world, me included. But sometimes when the stars align we meet up and take the pi$$ out of each other for a few hours. I guess it's that thing of alcohol being a social lubricant. Normally it might take a while to get used to each others company again but getting inebriated speeds that up.

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Howard Halsall
09:03 Feb 02, 2023

Hello Graham, I have a couple of good pals I shared a house with, for three years, back in my college days and we’ve all gone our separate ways. However, when we meet up, we get on like a house on fire and have aching ribs afterwards from all the laughter. We’ve all aged, but the shared humour is still there along with all those hilarious memories. It’s always interesting to hear their takes on an incident and compare it to my point of view. It never ceases to surprise me how much our perspectives vary. I agree with you about the social lubr...

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Graham Kinross
12:01 Feb 02, 2023

That all sounds familiar, maybe that could be one of your stories.

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Howard Halsall
12:44 Feb 02, 2023

It’s got great potential for humour :)

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Graham Kinross
21:56 Feb 02, 2023

Definitely. Have you ever seen the comedy Fresh Meat? It’s about people meeting each other to be flatmates at university. It felt quite true to life and it’s hilarious.

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Howard Halsall
22:51 Feb 02, 2023

Hmm…. No, I haven’t seen it. I’ll check it out. :)

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Hannah K
21:12 Jan 09, 2023

"The hypnotic lights of Barcelona changed his life forever." I loved that sentence. Short and concise, yet with so much implicit meaning. I also loved the intimate way you handled the dialogue between the two friends. As an American, I found it interesting to read something written from a European perspective. What seems so comfortable and so much like home to one person can seem completely foreign and uncomfortable to another. I have a little experience with this because my husband is from a small town in southern Italy. There are so many ...

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Howard Halsall
22:26 Jan 10, 2023

Hello Hannah, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts. You’re right about the Spanish versus English conversion. I think I could have developed that idea further and explored the disappearance of Pete’s English vocabulary through lack of use too. It’s definitely a notion I might rewrite at another time. I appreciate your response and I’m happy to comment on your latest submission if you’d like some feedback… Take care HH

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Mike Panasitti
21:34 Dec 30, 2022

Your concise story proves that no matter the intervening particular circumstances (time, international borders), universals like friendship endure. Nice way to tie in nostalgia to the prompt about losing one's language.

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Howard Halsall
07:41 Dec 31, 2022

Hi Mike, Thank you for reading my story and leaving your thoughts; they’re much appreciated. Wishing you all the best for 2023. HH

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21:15 Dec 28, 2022

Hi Howard! You've got great descriptions and landscapes in your story. Some feedback for improvement the dialogue was hard to follow as it wasn't marked. Also it would have benefited from using more variety of words instead of said. Otherwise I really loved your descriptions they really pulled me there!

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Howard Halsall
09:14 Dec 30, 2022

Hi Narelle, Thank you for reading my story and leaving your thoughts; they’re much appreciated. Take care HH

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