Contrasts

Perhaps we shouldn't have gone to the Gallery opening. The smart, shiny people glanced unseeingly at us as we slipped through the door, so absorbed were they in all the other smart, shiny people they had known for years. Strangely, nobody else seemed to be looking at the stunning pictures. More people drifted in and were greeted with shrieks of recognition, air kisses, as we bounced off them like billiard balls, unable to penetrate the invisible shield.

She used to be a neighbour of his, in and out of each other's houses, their children playmates, but they hadn't seen each other for years.

'I can't quite place you ...’ she said, puzzled, as he greeted her and congratulated her on her work. 'Oh yes, didn't you used to be married to ...’

'Things change', he replied awkwardly as my smile slipped.

Not the right woman. Not the right place. Not my fault.

The next day, the thin Autumn sunshine breaking through the misty morning drew us out onto the water. We spent the day sailing up the river, the water like spun silk, dropping anchor in a quiet creek, listening to the silence, soaking up the late sun. Later, as the light drained away, we headed back to port under the bright, almost full moon, shivering in the damp, cold, river air.

Turning Point

'You changed the course of my life,' I said to her as we stood talking in the Marquee beside the white-covered trestle tables, laden with food and drink. She looked shocked. I suppose it is strange to think that a casual decision, taken one busy working day, can shape someone else's life.

I was a fresh pretty young girl, recently arrived in London from Yorkshire when she took a chance on me, offered me a job working for a large international company without checking my shorthand and typing, which weren't all they could have been.

Not that I had thought of her at all, these 30 years or so since that day, but seeing her there now brought it home to me that it was that decision which had changed my world, brought me a marriage that lasted 18 years, our three amazing sons, life-longs friends and the invitation to this party in a Sussex orchard on a fine June day.

Scottish Reels

It was quite simply one of the best parties I had ever been to! The Scottish reels were an inspired choice and the perfect antidote for inhibitions as we all made mistakes and fell over our feet or span into someone else. For a while, we all became children again, laughing and giggling and talking to complete strangers.

I took to the floor with a friend but we were immediately whisked away from each other by the dance and I found myself stopping with the music in front of a tall, slender man wearing a pink shirt. I have a weakness for a man in a pink shirt. We chatted for a few minutes and discovered we had friends in common before the music started up again and we whirled away from each other in opposite directions.

It was much later when I was taking time out at the bar, chatting to people I hadn't seen for a while, that I saw him come across the room towards me. He joined the group and someone introduced us properly, then the group gradually dispersed as people rejoined the dance floor or saw other friends and we were left temporarily alone. We talked for a while and I wondered if he would ever ask me to dance. I was itching to get back on the floor. At last he did and we danced the night away, leaving the party in the small hours.