It was an 18th birthday, a hot night one summer, the tail-end of a party. The four of us were lying around on floor cushions, talking, drinking. Two lean boys, two skinny girls, and the Birthday Present. Then the drink ran out. We glanced at each other, suddenly shy. My friend likes you. I like your friend. What now?

The birthday present was a case of vintage port, an investment, supposed to be set aside for the future - prohibited - strictly forbidden. We stared at the wooden case. Twelve green bottles bundled up in straw.

Ten minutes later the birthday boy reached for a knife and broke the first seal. After that, there was no stopping us. We blew four bottles that night. How sweet it was, passed, with kisses, from mouth to mouth.

But what now? Someone had a car. We took eggs, bacon, bread, oil, matches, a camping gaz stove, the bottles of port, and all piled in.

At four in the morning, the moor was deserted, just one set of headlights between the huddled mass of standing stones. By torchlight, we found a leeward corner, the boys traded their warm clothing and we cooked up, as the sun began to rise. On top of the world, eating sweet bacon and egg sandwiches. The wide landscape opened beneath a pink and yellow sky.

So, what now? Someone had a map. The road was empty. We raced west, ahead of the sun.

We found ourselves at a curve in the cliffs, in the middle of a desolate amphitheatre, playing La Ronde, cartwheeling, clowning around on the granite terraces above the sea.

The rocks were steep but we climbed down to the water’s edge, high on marine air and the primal scent of salt water. It was nearly light. The four of us sat listening to silence broken only by the sound of the sea, skimming stones, glugs of thick, sweet port. Someone tossed the fourth empty bottle - splash! - the neck bobbed in the swell.

In the spontaneous brilliance of a new day, the boys stripped off - dived in - their pale muscular bodies weightless in the viscous ocean. Time stopped. I’ll never forget it.  We watched them, my friend and I. Overarm, underarm, swimming away. Come back, we thought, we want you - to come back.

And they turned and struck back towards us. They helped each other out of the water, laughing, their hair in ropes, the sun behind us, the sun in their eyes, drenched, naked, shivering, rising towards us. Everyone was smiling…

I don’t think I’ve experienced anything quite so perfectly beautiful… since.

Last Modified : October 5th, 2008 Filed under : Things Which Really Happened Navigate : Previous post / Next post