When I was at school (I left in 1955) my best mate was a bit of a budding footballer. It was predicted that he would be signed as a junior by Liverpool (who, in those days, were in the old 2nd Division). From the day I left school we lost contact completely as we lived miles apart. He was far more mature than virtually all of our classmates, bigger (in all departments) and he had started to shave when he was about 14.
By the miracle of the internet he made contact about 6 years ago and we met up. He had lived for most of the intervening years in Australia and, had he not given very specific details of where we were to meet, I would not have recognised him in a month of Sundays. He was short, slightly stooped, almost completely bald and as miserable an old git as I have had the misfortune to meet in the intervening half century. He never did sign for Liverpool, drifted out of football, became a teacher and obviously developed a very severe chip on his shoulder.
It was quite a chastening meeting and one that convinced me not to repeat the experience with any other long forgotten mates, should the opportunity present itself in the future.
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