My schoolboy crush was Judy Delphine. I was in primary school, so just a wee lad really. She was so pretty and had such a beaming, beautiful smile. We sat on the same table and I was just in awe of her. From being a boy of seven, through to the high school, I carried this crush every day for years. One day, I finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. Eight years of adoration, eight years of getting her water from the water jug, washing her paint palettes and sharpening her pencils. Surely she would reciprocate such devotion? I nervously approached her, knees trembling, skin perspiring, my voice quivering.

“Will you go out with me Judy?” I stammered.

“Nah,” she said flatly, and walked off.

And that was it. Ego burst, hopes dashed, crush obliterated. I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. I must have looked terrible, because another girl walked up to me and said, “are you alright Paul? Bless you, you look so ill.”

She put her hand on my shoulder and looked caringly into my eyes. Jennifer Thompson. Oh my word. Jennifer Thompson. She is so fit.

“Yes, I’m ok Jennifer. Would you like your pencils sharpened?”