My first fight

Extract from Authobiography: Memoirs of a Serious Literary Author

I will never forget my first fight. It occurred when I was sixteen years old and, like most fights, involved a love interest. It took place at a house party (which, for those who don’t know, is a party that takes place at a house).

It was the first house party I had ever been to. I was vaguely aware that such parties existed; the sixth form common room was always awash with fervent whispers about what ‘went down’ (which, for those who don’t know, means ‘happened’) at recent house parties. But I never seemed to be invited to them. Rather than because I wasn’t welcome, this was probably because everybody knew I had more important things to do with my evenings, such as writing poetry. I have no doubt that people wanted me at their parties but believed I was unlikely to accept their invitation, and so decided to save themselves the disappointment.

But when Michelle Bradbury invited me to a party at her house, I immediately answered in the affirmative (“Yes”).

I had been harbouring Serious Literary Feelings for Michelle ever since we were paired together to critique each-other’s nature poems during an English lesson. After reading my poem, she said she liked “how the sentences carry on across the lines”, as well as “the bit where you rhyme ‘tree’ with ‘thee’”. It was clear from her appreciation of my use of enjambment and my quatrain rhyme scheme that she thought I was a brilliant writer, and I fell in love with her on the spot.

I spent every English lesson for the next few weeks looking for signs that she felt the same way. While subtle, they were definitely there, from the way she looked at me when I entered the classroom to the way she said “No, thanks” when I asked if she would like to read another of my poems (what she clearly meant was, ‘Not here; in private.’) And when, at the end of one lesson, she invited me to her party that evening, there could be no doubting that she desired me too.

The party was due to start at 7pm but I opted to arrive fashionably late, eventually turning up at 7:05. I was wearing my best outfit; corduroy jacket, corduroy trousers, corduroy shirt and corduroy socks, all brown. (I was unable to find corduroy shoes but had drawn vertical lines on my suede shoes to create the effect.) Overall, I looked incredibly sharp and Literary.