a well-masked past..

last night my dad went up in the loft to find something, and came back down with boxes of things so familiar to me, it was as if a 13 year old na had been hidden up there, and he'd found her.
oh man, the hours that followed i spent reading, laughing, really laughing, viv-thornton laughing....
the box of letters, notes, secrets and epic sagas written and passed between myself and friends in class.....talking about what we'd do at lunch...or what we had done at lunch..mainly involved finding the best vantage point from which to stare at certain boys..naming not one name here..they had code names anyway...journals covered on one side with the beatles' picture and the other thom yorke's...mixed tapes...ballet shoes...dt coursework...school tie..earrings...oh lord..but there is one thing that has left me giggling inwardly all day..ok..i'm not sure how to tell this one..bear with me..it was primarily on the part of my sister (the box was half her stuff too) but i believe i had initially led her into it.....and the evidence was all uncovered in that one box.....we sat on my bed last night, in pyjamas, laughing until we felt sick......i can't believe i'm about to blog this..it was 1994 man, there's no excuse for it i know, but well it was a boyzone thing.
i hid it, really quite well, i think.....i loved blur, i was at mile end.....i screamed country house at anyone who was rooting for roll with it, i looked like the hippy my mother had been in '72...i wore my hair in two plaits and a doctor marten on each foot..(yeah yeah they were still cool then). and yet this secret lurked, all the while, threatening to expose me as a fraudulent 'alternative' type. i loved shane lynch, he was my favourite...fiona loved keith duffy....well, at least my one isn't now in coronation street..
so there you are, i could elaborate. i won't
it passed, by the end of fifth year...then sixth form came along with all the boys, cigarettes, essays on the cuban missile crisis and virginia woolf you can imagine...they were happier days, i had no musically-criminal secrets to keep guarded any longer. it was 1997 and we only knew good music. as miss w will attest, music has not been that good since, so i was safe from having to look elsewhere, i mean not only was the music good, those indie boys were lush.....man, hands up who's favourite year was 1997..