Now or Never
- sjgoldsmith
- Mar 21
- 4 min read
When we first met in Freshers’ Week at uni, Colin was a lanky, pimply accountancy student who was better at drawing girls than talking to them. But he had a dream, and one night, after far too many Jager bombs, he told me about it. He dreamed of being a singer, of singing at a packed Wembley Stadium to an adoring crowd. Of course, you know Colin, he didn’t do anything about it. Years passed. After we graduated, he got that soul-destroying office job, living his life going through the motions, but every night in the shower, he’d sing to his shampoo, dreaming of what could be.
Then, on a dreary autumn day, that all changed.
It was just beginning to drizzle when I pulled up outside his flat share. Being the gentleman that I am, I honked the horn until he emerged, wearing his anorak and waterproof trousers, clutching a clipboard. Despite the weather, he was beaming.
‘Alright mate? What’s that you’ve got?’ I said to him when he got in the car, pointing at the clipboard.
‘I made it for you; it’s a beginner’s guide to train spotting. It’s got photos of the trains that we’ll see.’ He was so excited telling me this. How he didn’t know something was up when I suggested I go train spotting with him, I have no idea.
So, he’s chatting away, telling me the difference between bashers and photters, not paying attention to where we’re going, when I pull into a parking lot outside this theatre. He gets out of the car and follows me, still waffling on about trains, and we join the back of a queue of people snaking around the theatre.
It’s only when we’re through the door that he finally notices that we’re not by some train tracks in the middle of nowhere.
‘I don’t think we’ll see any trains in here,’ he said, looking confused at the line of men and women threading their way through the queue ropes to the auditorium door.
Want to read more?
Subscribe to sarahgoldsmithwrites.com to keep reading this exclusive post.
