A week or so ago I received a call from someone I hadn't seen in over ten years who said they were back in London and did I fancy a drink? Not wishing to appear rude I agreed and we decided on a suitable establishment.
Now I'm certainly not the same as I was when we last met, definitely heavier, greyer and more weathered would be a polite description, but two children and an insatiable work ethic can take it out of you :)
So I was trying to picture how this chap would look if he had followed a similar trend. My mental picture of him was not helped by my prosopagnosia, which is often called face-blindness. I have difficulty recognising people especially if they are not in their usual location or wearing a different style to what I'm used to seeing them in. For example I spent the first half of Black Mass wondering when Johnny Depp was going to appear.
So I reached the pub on time aware of the fact that my friend was usually late but, surprisingly, he was waiting in a far corner and I waved to catch his eye and he dutifully waved back. I walked across and greeted him with I never thought you'd arrive first to which he replied I thought I'd surprise you and this is when I took in how he looked. I was shocked and slightly upset, instead of ageing he looked younger than before, he still had the same moustache and beard but the hair was still black and he seemed to have spent the last few years visiting the gym every day, he was muscular and in perfect shape. He seemed very happy to see me (a fact which cheered me up much later when I thought about it) and asked what I was drinking and it was then that I realised - it wasn't my friend - now what to do? It was obvious he was on a blind date of some description and I must have been close to what he was expecting (poor sod), but what to say? I thought it best just to spit it out. I'm sorry, I think I've made a mistake, you're not X, are you? Fortunately he did not possess the same name as my friend or the farce could have continued for much longer. I wished him a pleasant evening and wandered back to a table some distance away where, twenty minutes later, the real McCoy turned up, two stone heaver and much greyer than when I had last seen him - thank goodness for that.