Chance Encounter

In 1984, my high school was closed. It was a very small school in a disadvantaged area. The Government wanted to build a road where it sat. We were the collateral damage.

For 4 years, I had been lucky enough to have an Art teacher who somehow managed to engage a raggle taggle group of teenagers in his classes. He was a gentle, quiet man who wore corduroy trousers that he wore smooth on the front of the thighs by rubbing his palms on them. He saw a semblance of artistic talent in me, and despite my teenage recalcitrance, always encouraged me. His classroom became a bit of a safe haven for the troubled teenager I was at that time. The school librarian became his wife and she provided a similar refuge, giving me unfettered access to books.

The day the school closed, we were given free reign to visit classes. I spent most of the day popping in and out of the Art room. On my final visit to say goodbye, "Sincie" as he was known to pupils, gave me a wooden Indian tea jar that had made cameo appearances in many still-lifes. I can't remember our goodbye, but I doubt it was emotional; neither of us were that way inclined back then.

I visited "Sincie" a few times in his new school over my final two years of high school - we were decanted into assorted schools in the area. We kept in touch for a while...

Life took over.
I went to university.
I graduated.
I wrote to "Sincie" and his wife to let them know. I still have the congratulations card that they sent.
Years passed...
We lost touch.

In 2012, I was at a nature reserve with my children. I was pointing out a Red Squirrel to them. I was aware of a man saying "I think I recognise that lady", and looked up as he said my name. There, over 25 years later, was "Sincie"!

It took me a few moments to recognise him. What a wonderful moment it was. He regaled the children with tales of their mum as a schoolgirl. He told them about my artistic ability; undoubtedly exaggerated for effect. He talked of a child I don't remember, apparently "infamous for her boundless enthusiasm"...

We exchanged addresses.
He has retired now and is a full-time artist.
I get invitations to previews for his exhibitions.
I try to attend.
We always exchange hugs.
If I'm in the area, I pop in to see him and his wife.

Every year, he makes a lino-cut Christmas card, loosely based on the 12 days of Christmas. I have them framed.

This summer, he had a heart attack so I did not expect a card.
However, today, I recognised the scrawl on an envelope in the post. Just as I was wrapping a gift to drop in to him this weekend.

This is this year's card.
It's really quite impressive, don't you think?