March 21st, 1989
At Jon’s – Middlesex
It’s just after midnight and I’m in the guest room here at Jon’s. He rang this morning and suggested I spend the night, which makes sense because Heathrow is only twenty minutes from here.
It took two and a half hours to get here, which only served to prompt my desire for a car even more. As the train was pulling into the station, I spotted Jon on the platform and I started walking through the carriage in his direction, so that when I got off the train, he was right there.
“McGarr,” he said, taking my suitcase and kissing my cheek “You look well. And only forty minutes late.”
“Sorry about that, I got a late start.”
He laughed. “I would expect no less.”
“Am I really that bad?”
“Oh, I’m not answering that. Let’s go and buy you a car.”
My new car is a dark blue Ford, something or other, with plenty of space for my suitcase. It was fun watching Jon negotiate the price and I witnessed a side of him I’ve never seen. I’m thrilled he got the price down to just eight hundred quid. As I’m off in the morning, Jon offered to have the car detailed before he drops it off at home for me, sometime before I get back from Bermuda.
To say thanks, I offered to buy Jon dinner (and drinks) at The Harrow. I love it in there, the spot of many a fun evening, where someone always whacks their head on the low beams, even the regulars! After dinner, Jon’s best mates, Rickie and Ralph showed up and as always, we had a great laugh together.
Rickie had clearly enjoyed a few pints when he said he wishes Jon and I would get back together and I just laughed it off. The more Rickie drank, the more he kept saying it and at one point I heard Jon saying, “I wish.” I pretended not to hear him. There’s no doubt that Jon is a good guy, but my heart belongs to Ben.