I was trying to remember what Merrill Lynch reminded me of, before the words "takeover" and "Bank of America" became associated with it. And I remembered: deely boppers*.
I was wearing a pair - gold sparkly ones, star shaped glittery polystyrene on springs on a hair band as I travelled on the number 37 bus across south London at about 1 in the morning one Sunday.
I was living in a shared flat in Clapham and was relatively newly single, and so making the most of every opportunity offered to go out and meet new people.
I'd received an invite to my former flatmate's party - a joint 30th-birthday-and-buying-a-first-flat party at a bar near her new nice but shoe-box-sized flat.
She'd themed it - come dressed as one of the decades of her life: I figured most people would go for the 1970s so I went for the 1980s: black and gold striped cheesecloth catsuit (I was definitely slimmer then!) tucked into black boots, hugely shoulder-padded jacket black jacket, enormous earrings a la Pat Butcher in "Eastenders" and the aforementioned deely boppers.
It being November, I stuck my big black coat over the lot, carried my deely boppers in my hand and I decided not to take a handbag. I hate having to have a bag at parties and frankly the part of south London I was travelling to (one of the scummier bits of Camberwell) always makes me feel very vulnerable.
When I walked in, Harriet came over and gave me the biggest hug she'd ever given me. "Thank God!", she said, " I thought I was going to be the only one that dressed up!" I looked around and realised she was right - she and I were indeed the only people in costume - and certainly the only pair wearing deely boppers. I got over the embarrassment relatively quickly - fortunately I'd steered clear of going the whole hog and doing 80s make up - and some of Harriet's best friends arrived in full disco clothes including afro wigs and platform shoes.
But I didn't really meet anyone new that I wanted to keep in touch with so I made my excuses and left just after 12.15. It was cold outside and all the buses were running late but eventually one with the right number on the front arrived. To be honest, I was feeling really down. It can be really hard to go out, expend all the energy of being bright and personable and then find all the girls already have established circles of friends that don't need you in them and all the men are weird, married or gay. I knew I was moving to Brussels in 6 weeks so ultimately it probably didn't matter too much, but nevertheless feeling down doesn't have to be rational or reasonable, it's an emotional response. I didn't even have a book with me that I could escape into for the journey, or my mobile phone to play with as I'd left it at home (no bag).
A few stops from home, a guy got onto the bus. I noticed him immediately - a rugby-type build, light brown hair with a slight curl and those glasses that make you look like a Danish architect. Although there were other seats available, he sat next to me. So, bonus.
He pulled out a book - Toby Young's "How to Lose Friends and Alienate People". I'd not read it at the time, but I'd got it on my mental list. But instead of reading it, he smiled at me. I smiled back and, for the first time in my life managed to say something witty and intelligent that caused a conversation to happen. Not that I can remember what I said now - and of course I was slightly drunk, but no matter.
We got chatting, his name was Christian and he worked for Merrill Lynch. We were getting on brilliantly but we were also just two stops from my house by now. Christian said that he was leaving for New York for two years in six weeks. And I was leaving for Brussels in six weeks. He grinned: that gives us six weeks to get to know each other, then you can come to New York and I can come to Brussels. Give me a call and we'll do brunch tomorrow.
I was a bit reluctant to give my number - I had after all only met him on the bus twenty minutes before. Seeing this, he suggested that he'd leave it up to me - I could call him in the morning and we could meet up and we would, but he wouldn't hassle me.
Neither of us had a pen. I didn't have my mobile (remember, no bag). So we used his phone to call mine at home, and I got off the bus, promising to call and meet up in the morning. And realised I was still wearing the deely boppers.
Of course the call didn't connect. My phone was off and didn't store the number. So I didn't have the number, and couldn't call. I was cross about it for about a month.
And then I moved to Brussels (and presumably he moved to New York). I found a busy job I loved, a church and new friends, and met my now husband. I have a fabulous life that I wouldn't change for the world.
But sometimes you just wonder what would have happen if that call had connected.
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*= http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deely_bopper
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