Faces

Three, originally, seen on my way to work yesterday, but a fourth was added on the way home. The first was that of a boy of 13 or 14, on a Northern Line tube station platform. He looked like a slightly younger version of someone I used to work with, and who I haven't thought about for many a long day. He was one of the juniors in my workplace in Birmingham (my company doesn't employ anyone under 18 now, but 16 and 17 year olds used to be part of the workforce) who I became very friendly with, even close to. I was in my late twenties at the time, not that much older than his then 16 when we first met. I was attracted to him, but never did anything that would've let him know, and our friendship was genuine and mutual - I ended up spending quite a bit of time with him outside work. There was never a chance of anything more - apart from the fact that, even though he would be 'legal' nowadays, he wasn't then (the gay age of consent at the time was 21), he was, as I described him to one of the very few people who knew at the time that I was a boylover, 'a disgustingly normal little boy' (tongue in cheek, of course, he was neither little nor, in any way, disgusting!). We eventually drifted apart as he reached 18, and went off to his first 'senior' post, at around the same time I left the Midlands forever, heading back to Manchester. We did meet up once after that - a mutual acquaintance, another of the former juniors in Birmingham, who'd ended up working in the West Country, somehow found out I was living in Cornwall - I guess because the 'community' in our industry in that part of the world is pretty small - when my friend was due to go on holiday there, duly putting us in touch. My ex, K and I met up with him and his family for what proved to be a very nice afternoon in the early 'noughties', but that was the last time I saw him, and, to be honest, almost the last time I'd thought about him until yesterday.
The second 'face' was much more the sort of scenario that characterises my life these days - another beautiful 'ghost'. But, wow, was he beautiful, the most gorgeous boy I've seen for months. Around 12, on what was evidently a school trip in town, blond, smiley, dimples, simply breathtaking. And, of course, gone forever in a matter of seconds, as my bus went on its way. I felt like crying, and almost did, not, of course, that tears would've made any difference whatsoever.
Once I'd got off of that bus, and caught the train to 'worktown', I wasn't expecting anything more out of the ordinary, but another 'face' intervened to affect me, but in a completely different way. This time the face of a young man, late teens, maybe even into his twenties, handsome, particularly attractive eyes. But very obviously mentally disabled, having to be helped onto the train by a man, possibly his father, and speaking in what was pretty much 'baby talk'. Very, very sad, that anyone should be disabled in that way, but all the more so for someone who would otherwise be in the prime of his life.
The final encounter of the day was perhaps the most unexpected of all, given the time it happened, and its effect on my mood. I'd been relieved at the latest possible time that wouldn't have constituted lateness on duty by one of my colleagues who lives no more than ten minutes drive away from our workplace, and missed what would've been my homebound train by literally one minute as a result. Needless to say, I wasn't at all amused, as I waited for a different train that marked the beginning of a 'Plan B' that I knew was going to get me home substantially later. But then, the last 'face' of the day came onto the scene. Just a little guy, maybe 10, with, to judge by their respective ages, his grandparents. Not at all the sort of person you expect to see around so late on a school night. He wasn't supercute, but he was happy, smiling, full of life, and instantly cheered me up, A lot.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B