July 1981. There was, as the song says, panic on the streets of London, thousands of UK citizens fighting with police in Liverpool, Sheffield, Birmingham, Hull, Preston and Manchester as racial tension heightened and inner-city depravation hit the headlines. Elsewhere, the country prepared to celebrate the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer, street parties were planned, bunting was hung and cakes were baked.

An image shot from the back beach at Teignmouth in 2019, one of my favourite places to visit. Time, as has often been noted, is a peculiar beast and it feels like an opportune moment to take a brief detour from the main narrative and slip forwards in time from where we were and take a short hop back from where we are...confused?

It took time to adjust and I think for a while I resented having to leave behind the home that we had made for ourselves. I’d finally found somewhere where I thought I belonged and had built up an environment where I was comfortable. I’d left behind people that I considered to be friends, although some would show their true colours in years to come.

With Lily, who once came to a game of cricket with me... Married life seemed pretty near perfect for a while. We spent a week in Looe on honeymoon, relaxing after the stresses of planning a wedding and adjusting to the changes of a situation that neither of us had experienced before. Soon enough, we returned home and went back to work while basking in the glow of what should have been one of the happiest days of our lives.

In Australia, December 1994. Slowly, I began to pull my life back together. Going back to work was tough and everyone was very supportive. Friends were sympathetic, as one might expect and I gradually began to adjust to a ‘new normal’. The one bright spot on the horizon was an impending trip to Australia. When I had met Louise, she had already arranged a four and a half week stay with family in Sydney over Christmas and New Year.

Carole with Dad on her wedding day It was a totally and utterly unremarkable Monday in November, 1994. The remarkable ones only come along so often, so it was no surprise. The day before, I’d received a call from my eldest sister, Carole, who was visiting my youngest sister, Ellie, in Horsham and they were planning on a night out. Carole asked if I wanted to tag along.

Saturday, August 6th, 1994. The date was set. After four turbulent years away from Plymouth, I’d made the decision to move back to Devon, where my Dad had a spare room waiting. Still working at McDonalds, a transfer had been arranged, my bags were packed and I had said most of my goodbyes. Still not the most outgoing of souls, I’d been invited to show my face at a friend’s party just around the corner from where I’d been living and I figured it would be the last chance I would have to say a few last farewells to some people I’d not managed to see previously.

They gave everything for the badge. Argyle gave them an email. Save PAWFC

With little to do but lick my wounds following recent events (Alone Again (Naturally)) I plodded through the next few months working as many shifts as possible. People might knock working at McDonalds, but I quite enjoyed my time working there, with the exception of the failed romantic liaisons and a couple of other incidents that I’ll come to shortly. I had little to challenge me elsewhere in my life and while I continued to write any submissions were more often than not ignored.

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