In the last week of August 1974 there was another Church Youth Group Houseparty, which I duly went on, as did my best mate at the time, a chap called Mick. Indeed, Mick was such throughout almost all the 1970s; he had been most helpful in the solace he provided during the trauma of Girlfriends 1-26, and before the end of the decade he had been Best Man at my wedding, and I had done the same for him at his first one.
Anyway, it was a lovely sunny afternoon on the Houseparty, and a couple of 17 year old girls who were also in the party invited Mick and me to go on a walk with them. Mick had turned 19 by this time, and I of course was 18, and we were pleased to agree; so off we went.
One of these girls was a drop-dead gorgeous brunette with long straight hair, and both Mick and I fancied her to bits. The other was a sort of mousey one, though by no means unattractive, and I remember thinking that she had the prettier name.
Nevertheless, at least on the outside, the stroll proceeded on an entirely platonic basis. We parted knowing much more about each other than we had at the start of the walk, but none of us thought any more about further social intercourse. Apart, that is, from the mousey one, after a gap of some 4 months.
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