Last seen Michael and Billy had said their goodbyes to their mummy’s and were away on the annual Ski trip. With us was our friend from school Lukas, a recent friend who we became frequented with due to sharing the same trip. So their was intended to be Myself, Billy and Lukas all sharing a room. We also had another addition. The P.E teacher Mr ‘Friendly’ also had invited his nephew.
Mr Friendly and myself had a strange relationship. It was strange due to the simple fact is I could never understand why he liked me. I was not the most athletic, I rarely participated in extra curricular sports. I was at one time the captain of the hockey team and played the odd game of badminton. The thing about Grammar schools is that these sports do not hold glory, the simple fact being they do not generate revenue for the school. All the glory was In Rugby. My father always said of Rugby; “Gentleman play football and thugs watch the sport, whereas Thugs play Rugby and Gentleman watch it”. Perhaps this was a self commentary on his own viewing choices as he considered himself a gentleman. I myself have zero opinion on this matter. They both seem rather silly to me. So needless to say I was not the star winger for the boys school. That being said I always had straight A’s for P.E and Games… how? Quite often as a treat the boys would be allowed to play football (a non sanctioned sport) and myself and Billy would stand at goals lamenting on the fact we were forced into this ‘treat’.
It was to no ones surprise then that I was asked to share a room with my two friends and Mr friendlies nephew. Sometimes the star athlete has to take one for the team. So as we were boarding the bus we were introduced to ‘the nephew’. Looking back I feel really sorry for him. He didn’t know anyone, he wasn’t from our school and was forced into what probably would be one of the most awkward moments an adolescent would have to face. Adults don’t like these awkward social encounters however they are magnified far worse for an adolescent. As an adult we condition ourselves with experience on how to navigate them. We can seamlessly follow the routine flow of ‘small talk’ conversations for hours if such an occasion requires. I could drivel on needlessly as an adult about anything when the necessity arises. The poor nephew had neither the experience nor the skill to do this. We just thought he was weird…. he was different… he was… not from our school! Poor guy didn’t have a chance.
By the time the Belfast to Lyon flight had started to make its decent, myself, Billy and Lukas had already decided that this poor nephew was in our way. We felt like we had been burdened with the thankless job of babysitting this poor dilatant. The poor boy must have been scared out of his mind. We unpacked into our 4 bedroom room. two bunkbeds, myself and the nephew on the bottom and Billy and Lukas on the top. We unpacked all our clothes and headed for dinner. The first night was always a bit of an orienteering exercise. An agenda for the week was set. Behaviour lectures dished out ‘you are an ambassador for the school’, and to set the tone Mr Friendly had his obligatory glass of vino. The next day we were up and ready for 7am. On the Piste by 8am. As I was a more advanced skier I was separated from all the boys and into an unfamiliar group mostly full of people from a school in Southampton. Lunches in toe we headed to the first slope.
Over the years people have told me they prefer the morning snow. Its crisp, fresh and better all round for skiing. Afternoon snow is usually a lot more slush like in consistency and doesn’t make for a good ski. The first morning on the piste is like waking up to an old friend. The smell of the French Alps is quite amazing. Its like nothing else on this earth, and the views. Having 360 degrees of mountain top in incredible. A far cry from the Ballymena landscape this Irish boy was used to. The flow of the day followed a regular routine. We would meet for breakfast, usually a supply of French pastries. Ski in the morning, usually watching all the beginners have a crazy French women scream ‘SNOWPLOW!!!’ at the top of her lungs. We would engulf the baguette and juice lunch at the top of the mountain. More skiing. Evening meals and usually some free time in the late evening. The evening is where me and the boys would reconvene to chat to the girls from Southampton. Lukas would try to initiate some sort of kiss, and was usually successful. Whereas myself and Billy would experiment with blue hair gel that we thought was all the rage. This was at the height of Steps to be fair so we were rather impressionable to naughties culture. We haven’t reached the Gareth Gates phenomenon of hair gel yet however It will be discussed.
After spending the week exploring the French village, flirting with Southampton girls and a bit of light hazing of ‘the nephew’ we were all having the time of our young lives. We had discussed everything about our lives as much as young gentleman who attend a grammar school are comfortable discussing. After all, we were young gentleman and they possibly could never have daft things like emotions. That was reserved for the fairer sex. On the eve of our last night we were all lying in our bunks. It was late and anyone who has skied will tell you the energy required leaves you ready for bed. Add in hormones and growth spurts and these 4 boys were physically exhausted. Especially me as I needed a growth spurt. Like some sort of sick annual ritual I always lined up for the school photograph heard the usual bellow from the headmaster “Height order Gentleman, tallest to smallest please”. That was always my queue to walk straight to the back and sigh. At least I was always at the front I suppose.
As we lay in bed ready to depart for the sandman, Billy was unusually excitable that night. He always was a chatty sort however tonight it seemed to be teemed with a nervous energy. I remember him reaching over to Lukas and Myself saying, “I wanted to tell you guys something..”, I knew what was coming. I had often suspected it however he chose tonight as the night.. Under a hushed tone I heard the words I dare not speak
“I’m a Gay Man”.
Myself and Lukas paused, looked in awkwardness at each other.
“Ok cool.”
Of course we wanted details. We were bewildered by this news. Of course this news was neither shocking or really causing a major revelation however the timing seemed strange. We were 14 at the time. It seemed like a much more adult conversation than had preceded the week before. A lot more mature. A lot for 3 14 year olds (the nephew was excluded from the conversation)to really process. Incredibly brave.
His bravery was met with questions and some details emerged about having experiences with someone from our school. Someone popular.
That’s the thing, If it had been about someone far down the social ladder no one would really have blinked an eye. This news however upset the status quo. If their is one thing about high schools is, never upset the status quo. That simple little phrase and act of bravery from Billy would upset our world for two years. But more on that later.
My first night home, reunited with Mummy I started to tell her about the revelation of Billy. Her reaction as ever was so progressive;
“well son its lovely he has an understanding friend like you. I grew up with many gay friends”.
That was Mummy’s way of letting me know it was acceptable, and to her it really was.
In that moment I wanted to be brave too, but I wasn’t. Not yet.
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 