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(22nd December 2002)
With Alistair having returned and the car moved to a better spot, we headed off to one of the 'leys. Perhaps it's because I'm a 'ley myself (Ashley) that I got to choose which one to visit - Ilkley or Otley. Realising that I had to be decisivie, I chose quickly and firmly - another couple of 'leys - at least by sound though not by spelling... obviously. Ilkley was our destination, my unannounced reasons being threefold. Firstly, there is no song about Otley, where Ilkley, or at least its moor, does have a song - indeed, it's a song that I've officiated in the singing of on countless occasions. Secondly, apart from a brief visit to the area, in order to dig up a box full of Ilkley moor to take to a student event (don't ask, long story!) I don't recall ever spending any time in the place. Thirdly, I happen to know two people from Ilkley, and sometimes it's nice to put yourself in a position where you may bump into someone you know.
The beauty of life is that, even when you play the odds carefully, there's always something unexpected that can happen which shows you how miniscule your game is. Sure, I thought I'd maybe bump into someone in Ilkley... but I didn't think it was likely (nice anagram). It was, therefore, a nice surprise when someone walking past in the street said those words I've heard people utter before when recognising me - "Ashley Frieze!". They always say BOTH names, and always with a sense of triumph, as though they're saying "check mate" or "is THIS your card?". As has happened on previous occasions, I found myself not really recognising the speaker of the incantation that has grown from my name. Luckily he introduced himself - Christopher Lombard. The name range a bell... quietly. He then gave more detail (bless him). I hadn't seen this man in years. Fifteen years. In fact, he was a child (as was I) when I last saw him and I can't say I remember what he looked like then. I, on the other hand, have looked like this forever, emblazoning my image and my name on poor unfortunate souls for all eternity. As I said, this happens to me a lot.
Having engages in a mild exchange of life updates with Christopher, establishing that we are both working in I.T. and that neither of us could work out the odds of our meeting, we parted company. Round the next corner, Alistair and I managed to avoid bumping into our ex-headmaster, who was luckily engrossed in some Ilkley-based activity that did not require us to get involved. Soon it was time to assist Alistair with his shopping. He did the choosing/negotiating while I stood around making silly comments and being amused. I was phased slightly when the tall lady, whose role it was to wrap items on Saturdays, answered my somewhat smooth (i.e. not at all smooth) question of "so, what do you do the rest of the week?" with the immortal don't-come-any-closer style answer of "I'm at school". Missing only a fraction of a beat, perhaps a dotted semiquaver, I switched from charmer to mentor and discussed A-Levels and Universities with genuine nostalgia.
Leaving the shop, feeling almost (but not exactly) like an outed paedophile, I was exonerated by Alistair, who was also stunned at the gap between our perceptions of the girl's age and the reality... unless she's in remedial classes or something. It just goes to show that Ilkley breed them tall and mature looking.
We escaped the ambiguously-aged Ilkley folk by taking lunch in Tiffins, which is staffed by people whose ages are clear. Many are clearly under age, but selective blindness is a wonderful thing, and I met goading words of "don't look now" in relation to pretty young (read that either and both ways) waitresses by not looking, or not seeing. The ability to myte my senses would become useful before too long.
01 February 2003
Ashley Frieze