I’d gone down to London especially for this night out in Islington on the first weekend in August. I knew my former workmates Jess and Ray would be there, and possibly Rick too. Oh, and Dave, the director who made me redundant. Dave was leaving the company, too, so it was more of a leaving do for him than an actual reunion, as a lot of the people I’d hoped to see couldn’t make it.
Still, it was great to catch up with Jess, Ray (who still does his turn up late with a big entrance thing &ndash this time it was with cigars), and Rick, who turned up looking in great health, like some bronzed surfer dude. There were some others I hadn’t seen for years, or worked with at all, for that matter, but the common bond of having worked in the same place made for good company.
The evening seemed to whizz past at quite a pace. Before I knew it Rick had left to catch his infamous last train home, and the modest crowd had dwindled to a merry few. At one point I was drunk enough to tell Dave that I thought he was an honest, stand-up guy. Which was weird – I thought he was a lazy, problem dodging git when I worked with the company, but time heals all in this case, and looking back it’s easier to see why he played the role he did.
Danger, High Voltage
After saying farewell to Jess and Ray, I ended up in a gay club with Stuart Rae at Kings Cross. The reason being is that I was staying in cousin Iain’s room, but Stuart had the key and I needed to go and meet him at a location of his choice or end up roughing it. It later transpired that the room had been left open, a fact that Stuart did not disclose to me over the three hours of queer intrigue set to a soundtrack of immeasurable gayness that followed.