The first girl I fell in love with was slim, mysterious, and planned to be a doctor in the Shetland Isles, with a Range Rover. She was 14 and therefore 6 months older than me. John, my best friend, was equally stricken, and in a masterpiece of adolescent recklessness we contrived to let her know, on paper, of our feelings, and our rivalry. Thankfully (in retrospect), she thought we were just being stupid, and sent the message back, folded into a paper airplane. Strangely enough, three years later, when this same girl was deeply entangled with another guy, and I was in undeclared love with at least two other girls, we cosied up together on a coach trip to London, and on my side, it was completely platonic. "What a missed opportunity!" I now think; at the time I suspect I was a bit worried about being taken apart by the absent boyfriend, but I was also very loyal to my current infatuations, even though they were oblivious of how I felt about them.