{"id":372,"date":"2021-06-10T18:59:38","date_gmt":"2021-06-10T18:59:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/?page_id=372"},"modified":"2021-06-10T18:59:39","modified_gmt":"2021-06-10T18:59:39","slug":"i-never-said-hullo","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/i-never-said-hullo\/","title":{"rendered":"I Never Said Hullo"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

I\ndon\u2019t really know why I never said hullo to Lionel. It was partly because on\nthe first couple of sightings I wasn\u2019t sure it was him. His face looked\nfamiliar without matching a name or place; then I thought I recognised him but\nwasn\u2019t sure until I had seen him a third time. It was almost thirty years since\nwe had hung out together and he had aged more than most guys I knew, with hair\nthat hadn\u2019t receded but grown thin, bags under the eyes and the hint of a stoop\nin his walk. He looked knocked about by ill health, and when I decided it was\nhim I wondered if he had picked up some bad habits over the years. I also\nrealised that I didn\u2019t know his real name. When we were younger everyone had\ncalled him Lionel because his surname was Blair \u2013 this was years before Prime\nMinister Tony got himself noticed \u2013 and although I once asked someone his real\nname I don\u2019t recall any straight answer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\nwas one of the things that made me uncertain about approaching him, but it was\ndaft because we had got on very well with each other. There had been two years\nor so over the line between teens and twenties when we knocked about with the\nsame crowd. Most of the nights out were about boozing, banter, shouting about football\nand chatting up girls, at which neither of us were masters but with enough hits\nto keep our pride intact. We often fell into conversation with each other on\nthe fringe of the group because we had more in common \u2013 Derek Jarman movies,\nGill Scott-Heron albums, George V Higgins novels, even the occasional trip to\nthe Tate Gallery \u2013 minority tastes for working class lads chasing girls in\ndisco pubs. Away from the group we went to a couple of gigs together but not\nmuch else; I was studying a lot in the evenings and I think he had an\nalternative circle of friends. But I always liked him, believed that he\nappreciated my company, and kept thinking that sooner or later we would do more\ntogether.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then\nhe disappeared. At first I wasn\u2019t sure why, then someone said he had moved out\nto the suburbs with his parents, nobody had a phone number and he clearly\nwasn\u2019t inclined to show his face or give anyone a call. I hoped that he would\nshow up again, but after a while I became tangled with a girl who get me\nexcited until she dumped me for a guy she had been with berfore. I stopped\ngiving any thought Lionel and nobody mentioned his name. He became someone I\nused to know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Until\nthose uncertain sightings at work. It began when the firm I worked for was\ngobbled up by a larger one who moved us in with them, inside a big building\nwith half a dozen companies and several hundred people. Most were anonymous,\nsome had faces that I noticed more often than most, and a handful began to\nsmile after we crossed paths a few times. I didn\u2019t get into any conversations.\nI had been there around six months when I realised a guy of my age looked\nfamiliar, and a few more weeks before I told myself it was Lionel. He always\nlooked busy, entering or leaving the building quickly despite his stoop, either\nwith company or talking loudly on his phone. I only became sure it was him when\nI heard his voice from behind me, reminding someone of \u201cthat Peter Greenaway\nfilm with all the food\u201d. It was enough to make me turn around but he had veered\naway and we didn\u2019t make eye contact. In fact we never made eye contact. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nthought about saying hullo, but I didn\u2019t know which company he worked for or on\nwhich floor of the building, and on the occasions I used the cafeteria he was\nnever in sight. There were periods when I didn\u2019t spot him for weeks on end,\nthen would notice him coming into the building as I left, or going down an\nelevator as I went up. He always looked to be intent on getting somewhere,\nnever dawdling or looking around for the sake of it, and we still never made\neye contact.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For\na while I wondered about attracting his attention the next time I saw him. But\nI didn\u2019t know if he would still respond to \u2018Lionel\u2019, still didn\u2019t know his real\nname, and wasn\u2019t sure if it would be one of those awkward occasions when only\nperson remembered the other. Along with that was the fact that I had done the\nthing of finding old friends online and most of the time it had come to\nnothing; not many lived within easy reach and gaps of twenty-five years tend to\neradicate a lot that youngsters have in common. I wasn\u2019t convinced that we\ncould pick up again as friends, and worried that I might felt uneasy if that\nhappened. But I resolved that I would say hullo when the moment was right, that\nsoon there had to be a time when we would notice each other and it would all\ncome naturally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then\nmy mind got tied up in the job going downhill. I had never got on with the\npeople in charge after the takeover, never fitted what they described as\n\u2018company culture\u2019 and I regarded as a lot of pretentious arsing about, and had\ncome to dislike sharing an office with some of my colleagues. There were\narguments and stand-offs and I began to regard the building as enemy territory.\nIt was no surprise when they told me our part of the business was being\nreorganised and gave a lot of money to go away. I was glad to see the back of\nthe place and didn\u2019t give much thought to not running into Lionel again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten\nyears later I was scrolling through Twitter when I came across a retweet, a\ncomment that said \u2018Lovely Guy\u2019, and a photo of Lionel. And beneath that was a link\nto an obituary of a man named Colin Blair, the real name I had never known. I\nclicked, saw the piece had appeared on a national news site and been written by\nsomeone who had known Lionel through supporting a charity. It said he had gone\ninto advertising and built a reputation as a star copywriter with a sharp wit\nand a flamboyant manner with clients. Then he had got involved in a couple of\ncharities, one to help kids from poor families go to concerts and theatre,\nanother to stage art exhibitions in empty shops in high streets. He had been an\nevangelist for getting people to raise their cultural sights and experience\nstuff they would usually ignore. The writer said Lionel had a talent for\ninvolving people by making them laugh, whether it was through a clever line on\na poster or injecting a spontaneous crack into a meeting. He knew how to make\npeople like him and give his proposals a go. He made a difference in the world,\nwon admiration and made plenty of friends. And he did it all while suffering\nfrom a muscular disease that withered and killed him before he reached sixty. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nhad things to do but after reading the obituary I  couldn\u2019t get on with them. I read it again and\ngazed at the photo, Lionel pointing with a stick to a screen with a Powerpoint\nslide and the message \u2018Don\u2019t believe a word that I say\u2019. He looked older than\nwhen I had last spotted him, more stooped with a drooping eyebrow and an odd\nturn of the lower lip, but there was a grin on his face and a touch of fire in\nhis eyes. It was clear that however he had gone downhill physically his mind\nwas still living it up. I sat back for a while, didn\u2019t try to think about\nanything else, then acknowledged that I had missed something. He had clearly\nbeen a character worth knowing as he got older. I had a chance to do so but\ndidn\u2019t take it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ndidn\u2019t lose any sleep but it lingered in my mind. It wasn\u2019t a tragedy in my\nlife, but a regret, the feeling of an opportunity that could have been\nenjoyable but was wasted. I think I\u2019d been held back by the curse of middle\naged men, sticking to what we\u2019re comfortable with and missing good things. I\nshould have gone out of my way to say hullo.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I don\u2019t really know why I never said hullo to Lionel. It was partly because on the first couple of sightings I wasn\u2019t sure it was him. His face looked familiar without matching a name or place; then I thought I recognised him but wasn\u2019t sure until I had seen him a third time. It … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-372","page","type-page","status-publish"],"yoast_head":"\nI Never Said Hullo - MARK SAY<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Short story about seeing someone who had once been a friend\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/i-never-said-hullo\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_GB\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"I Never Said Hullo - MARK SAY\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Short story about seeing someone who had once been a friend\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/i-never-said-hullo\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"MARK SAY\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2021-06-10T18:59:39+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/06\/Male-silhouette-LC-Nottaasen-CC-BY-2.0.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Estimated reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"7 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/i-never-said-hullo\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/marksaywriter.com\/index.php\/i-never-said-hullo\/\",\"name\":\"I Never Said Hullo - 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