Visiting Trevor

Trevor is a friend from school who was best man at my wedding. We have been in distant contact over the years. I was shocked when I contacted him earlier in the year to find that following a sepsis attack he was bedridden unable to walk. Unfortunately this is but one of several health problems which also include a dislocated hip and badly deformed hands. He finds this issue depressing because he can no longer play instruments like the mandolin and guitar.

It was rather later in my school life that I became friends with Trevor. Because he entered with a gaggle of other middle class boys I rather presumed he was the same. This was quite false because he was working class although by reason of his schooling he had a middle class veneer.

I should say immediately that although my form at school was predominantly middle class there was no snobbery whatsoever, indeed my best friend particularly in the early years was definitely middle class as the son of a bleach works manager.

Trevor and I shared a common interest in current affairs and politics. He was fairly left wing and I was right wing and we argued about this which had the result of bringing us together. Trevor was both bright and hard working and to my shame I would entice him  into arguments during our free periods at school. I was rather lazy and very argumentative so not only I didn’t do the work I should, but I distracted Trevor also.

I wasn’t as right wing as I made out and I rather think Trevor wasn’t as left wing as he posed but we both liked an argument so it suited us to adopt extreme positions.

We both had other friends in common and in our mid teens we formed a sort of gang. This mainly meant we met in each others houses and played cards on a Saturday evening. We also went to pubs while slightly under age enjoying the illicit thrill. This seems slightly pathetic looking back.

When I did pass the magic age of 18 I would meet Trevor for lunch once a week in a regular pub. Looking back my headmaster would have had a fit if he had seen me in school uniform eating my sandwiches with a half pint of mild. My contemporaries at school thought this was highly amusing although I never really understood why. By this time I was going out with Annette so lunch times were a good time to meet. Trevor had won sponsorship by Boots for university but a condition was that he spent a year before at one of their pharmacies. I was still at school so as our contemporaries had mostly left we were naturally thrown together.

I mentioned my headmaster above. He was the only exception to the general lack of class consciousness at school as he was a terrible snob. Because of an innocent misunderstanding the head had a big down on me anyway. He showed this in ways I can find amusing now but which could have been highly damaging. The worst was my further education reference. When I went to Loughborough for interview it was remarked upon by the interviewer as damning with faint praise. In fact it made absolutely no difference as the Loughborough policy was to accept anyone with minimum qualifications and then have a massive sort out at the end of the first year. About a third of the entrance were told to leave.

Trevor and his family live in a old schoolhouse in very rural Cheshire. A long drive leads to their very attractive and spacious house. The house is in a tiny hamlet. Although only a few miles from the M6 it feels utterly rural; thatched cottages and all. It is one of the charms of England that so many places like this exist.