I met Tom Flynn at my local swimming pool in the summer of 1978. I was 13, he was a year older. The summer two years before had been what the British tabloid press terms "a scorcher." Temperatures had soared, breaking all records, and long orderly queues had formed outside the local pool. Not so in the summer of 1978. The dismal weather couldn't keep us away from the pool though. We still spent most of our days there, just our little group and the lifeguards who sat around looking bored.

The pool was a little over a mile from our homes. We'd set off mid-morning and walk along the wide, tree-lined roads, returning home only when the sun had begun to slip down in the sky. Louise was my best friend that summer. Some days it would be just the two of us at the pool, other days we'd be joined by friends from school or who lived close by.

The day Tom Flynn showed up, we were just about to pick up our damp towels and head for home. He attracted our attention by bouncing noisily on the springboard, and calling to his younger brother in what sounded like a voice we'd heard before only on TV. We asked him if he was American. "No," he replied, "I'm Canadian." We knew nothing about Canada - we didn't know a great deal more about America. We were intrigued.

After that initial meeting, Louise and I spent afternoons standing on the pool's balcony looking out towards the big iron gates awaiting the return of Tom Flynn. I said very little to Louise about how I hoped he'd return, whereas she casually let it slip a few times that she'd be more than pleased to see him again. I saw no threat in what she said: if anything I felt secure. It was good to know that should anyone discover how I felt about him, in Louise I had an accomplice.

We next saw Tom Flynn on a day when the sun did eventually shine and the crowds returned to the pool. Both Louise and I were delighted to see him, but we couldn't show it. He could however, another reason why he attracted me. I found myself warming to this boy when I didn't particularly want to, one of the reasons being that the others in our group ridiculed him. This was no doubt because he was "different." They seemed unsure as to whether they should accept him or reject him, and so treated him like someone who could never belong. And I acted as any 13-year-old would and did exactly the same.

I knew Tom Flynn liked me though. He was open and made it clear. This confused me and scared me a little. He seemed experienced where dating

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