The ceremony was odd. I could handle that it was in my old church, although I was a little perturbed by the fact that my old school joined onto it. Was it seventeen years since I’d used that door last? Fifteen? Weirder still, the minister used to be my scoutmaster. The past was dripping down the walls, it seemed. But not the same – was this room always this small? Surely not.
“I’ll give DTRMCR a lift to the bowls club, come on – I’m in the Volvo.” I smiled in appreciation, and headed that way. Whose car was I getting into? I didn’t exactly know. We drove down the A45, and I eventually realised it was Pete the Meat’s wife Emily. I was stunned – it must have been ten years since we last spoke. Lewis’ brother was there too, architect of my broken teeth all those years ago.
Afterwards, we went to Lewis’ mum’s for some whiskey, and then to Kieron’s for some Wii-based action. I am consistently overwhelmed by the warmth, openness and hospitality of the Fitzpatrick family. Even Roger played Wii. And then, after it all, I walked back through Kingsway, to my old house, my father’s jealous questions about what I’d been drinking, my single bed, and sleep.