It was Nimrod that did it.

There was I enjoying the Concert for Morse when I found myself thinking about my First Love. Maybe the LSO was giving a more moving interpretation than I had heard before: or was it memories of all the live concerts we had attended together (we always spent a large part of our grants on tickets for the RFH and Covent Garden and lived on beans on toast): whatever, it brought tears to my eyes and a reminder of the strong emotions of those college days.

He was on the 'rebound' from a love affair that never started. Unrequited love for the Irish girl who lived in the same house. So I was there to pick up the pieces, listen to his outpourings of adoration for this unobtainable creature, and eventually to fall in love with him myself.

Within a few months we were a 'couple' (heavy petting but no sex: the pill was only just becoming available but it wasn't easy to get hold of and I would have been too embarassed to ask).

The only problem was that I was so naively besotted that I wanted to spend every waking (and sleeping) minute in his company. Eventually this was the main cause of him dumping me.

He needed space. He wanted to do some things without a faithful shadow and he was aware that I only pretended to share his taste in absolutely everything.

During the last year at college he developed a crush on a girl he saw on the train to and from Devon - in the year below us. He confessed his feelings and asked me to find out her name and ask her if she would go out with him.

I tracked her down in the loo and passed on the message. She was horrified, already had a steady boyfriend and didn't want to know.

But it was all over between him and me now. The last term was a very strained time (we still shared a flat with three other people) and although we remained 'together' on the surface the end of college meant goodbye.

My parents drove to London to collect me and I bought a half bottle of brandy to drink on the way home but it didn't dull the pain: I remained stone cold sober. On making enquiries some months later I learned that he was going out with the girl on the train's best friend.

A couple of years ago I tracked him down through Friends Reunited. In actual fact it was his wife (the best friend) who was on the list but a little curiosity driven detective work on my part discovered a very likely address and phone number.

I was going to London for a few days so I rang. It was his wife who answered and we spoke about college days and then went on to talk about our children. He wasn't at home  -  he was giving a course in Italy - but, yes, it would be good to meet up when I went over, she said.

So, we made arrangements to meet at a restaurant within walking distance of CCs flat. Jay, CC and I turned up early and as they went in to ask for a table for all of us I recognised MFL engrossed in his music scores with a bottle of wine. Apart from grey hair he hadn't changed one bit.

I said his name and he looked up. We greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek, the children came over and we sat down for a good old catch-up session. His wife would be late so we had nearly an hour to talk about old times. He thoroughly charmed my son and daughter and we laughed alot as we argued about exactly whose fault it was when I crashed his scooter and he thought it was completely mad of me to be living with 'two husbands'.

Then his wife arrived and the party calmed down a bit. We had a good meal but conversation was more formal. It's difficult to say whether or not we will keep in touch but I did invite them to come and see us and meant it sincerely.

I had to admit to myself that she was a much more suitable wife than I would have been. She was prepared to be the main bread winner so that he could pursue his dreams of being a conductor and freelance musician. They each had an independant life but it had brought them closer together as a couple.

My heart remembered the old tingle but my head told me to accept that it was never meant to be.