Thursday, July 26, 2012

Hugs are tanglesome things

When is a gentle hug just a hug and when does it turn into a cuddle?  That last hug felt so sad and gentle and I only broke it off because everyone else could see and I didn't want them to start wondering.  Which is a pretty pants reason now I come to think of it.

Oh, I'm all caught up on a tide of nostalgia now.  The campfire in my friends' garden led on to talk of camps we have known and loved which, for me, was definitely Camp Eagle Owl/Camp No Name in Sweden in July 1997.  I was 16, I'd just done my GCSEs and my Ranger unit went off on an international trip to Sweden to visit a Scout troop we were friends with in Sundsvall.  It was amazing.  For several years after, I kept in touch with some of them and we met at several more camps over the years.  I frequently wished one of them, Daniel, lived closer to home but it was never to be.  Neither of us were ever single and on camp together at the same time.  I often wondered whether we would ever had gone out with each other had life been completely different.  Thinking about it, long hugs good-night were a feature of that non-relationship too but I don't remember thinking that they were odd, just that Danne was silly when it came to hugs.

It's slightly odd to think that I could have stood there all night holding him. It was that sort of slow, companionable night which sitting around a fire often results in.

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