Remember Sheffield orange nights with Ann

[Marcpivois]

It was my last day in England, and in London. We were in 67. Summer days.

I had just sitten in the bus to Dover with some french teens like me. I was 17 years old.

I saw two girls, same age as me, on the sidewalk. One of theim was smiling. I remember her very black hair, and her blue eyes. I was very shy, , but I don't know why, I suddenly stood up, went out of the bus. Asked to the driver one minute before start. I don't remember if I gave her my adress, or asked her adress... Her name was Ann.

During one year, we write together, she sent me records: Aretha Franklin, and others Tamla Motown. She was crazy about Tamla M.

At Christmas 68, I went to Sheffield where she lived. Her parents welcomed me so kindly. I remember her mother and her father, marvellous persons. I remember we listened all together the Queen allocution on the TV. I remember we walked, Ann and I, hand in hand, in the hazy and orange night in Sheffield streets. It was always raining. I remember she was extraordinarily sweet, nice, gentle. I don't what is exactly the most adapted word. My english is poor.

Some weeks after this period, I had hard private troubles. I stopped writing, did not answer her last letters. Finally, I loose her adress. But never forgot her name: Ann Shearn.

What she became? I hope she is happy, with beautiful children. May be, somedy, here, has known her... I should like to apologize. I should like she knows that sometimes, I think to her.

Marc