The three Amigos

This is an activity from the A215 Creative Writing Course that I’m doing with the OU. The idea is to depict a first-person narrator who struggles to piece a memory together from the discovery of an photograph (7.5).

I thought I would always remember this, but over time it has become blurred. It must be twenty years ago since I last saw this photo. The three Amigos: Harry, Robin and yours truly. Wow they don’t make fun times like that holiday anymore. Yep, summer 1994 in Benidorm, or was it Tenerife? We did both destinations that summer because we got a great deal on the Benidorm trip. Yes, of course it was Benidorm! Harry’s shirt is the give-away. I remember how Robin and I laughed at the shirt Harry is wearing in the photo: a purple and white Paisley patterned shirt, the likes of which you’ve never seen in your life. It was gross. Come to think of it he was wearing that shirt the night that group of Spanish girls laughed at him: It was his turn at the bar and as he came back to the table and plonked three vodka and cokes on the table, they slid straight off the slippery, wet surface and smashed on the floor. We must have got out of there quickly because I remember watching a Chubby Brown impersonator, and not being able to go to the loo because I didn’t want him to take the mick out of me. You know what comedians are like: as soon as they see any member of the audience move, they pounce – quicker than a greyhound out of its trap. I know that we ended up getting thrown out of there. For the life of me, however, I can’t remember if it was because we were heckling Chubby or because of Harry’s nasty habit of throwing cig butts at people who annoy him.

I think that was the same night that it ended up being just the two Amigos: Robin and I, because Harry ended up copping off with some girl. I can’t remember what she looked like, though, or how he met her. We must have talked to loads of girls that evening. I do remember the three of us talking to a group of attractive Swedish girls who kept on goading Harry to take off that purple and white Paisley shirt. In all fairness he did have the looks and the six-pack to go with it. Maybe it was one of them. He must have told us about it, but I can’t remember. It it was one of them then at least we got even for the Eurovision song contest; after all he did have an irritating scratch that didn’t get mentioned in polite circles.

About Sean

I live in my own thoughts, chat to imaginary friends, and survive primarily on Snickers and Nescafe. I work full-time and study part-time for a BA in English Literature with the OU. Home is the North West of England, and my heroes are those authors that can make miracles out of paper and words…… “The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read.” – Mark Twain.
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