Last night's school reunion was a game of two halves. My juggling show was a fiasco, as the venue had such a low ceiling I was unable to perform many of the tricks which I had been preparing for the night. The end result I prefer not to describe in any detail.
On the upside, I had an amazing conversation with someone who bullied me at school. Some years ago I objected to the organiser that he had circulated my home address and telephone number amongst all the other attendees, and that at least one of those had bullied me in my youth. The organiser then passed on this information to the bully himself. He was not present at the previous reunion 2 years ago, but he was there last night and I took my courage in both hands and approached him. I'm glad I did. It emerged that he was mortified at my accusations, having considered himself my friend, and it is fair to say that the relationship between bully and bullied is often a complex one. When I looked into his face last night, I could see nothing but warmth and almost love in his eyes, and something changed in me. I told him that although some whatever had gone down between us long ago, my predominant feeling towards him now was one of affection, and we parted as the firmest of friends. You're OK, Rory!
Just one though: I won't be going to any more reunions...
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