July 21st, 1989

July 21st, 1989

At home



“Hi Jon, how are you?”

“Most excellent. Ringing to see what you’re up to later tonight.”


“Packing what?”

“Eh, my suitcase.”

“Where you off to now?” he asked.

“I’m leaving tomorrow on a fourteen day trip to Abu Dhabi, Delhi and Kuala Lumpur.”

“Wow, a long one.”

“Very. That’s why I’m packing.”

“Early start?” he asked.

“Early enough.”

“Ok, I’ll let you finish packing, enjoy your trip and send me postcards.”

“I will.”

“And McGarr?”


“Ring me when you get back.”


No sooner did I hang up the phone, when it rang again.

“Yeeesssss?” I said, expecting it to be Jon, with something he’d forgotten.


“Oh, hi, Sean, sorry about that.”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked.

“No, not at all.”

“How are you?”

“Fine thanks,” I said, yawning.

“You sound knackered.”

“I am. It was a late night.”

“Where’d you go?” he asked.

“I went to St. Albans with my friends Stephen and Sebastian. Stephen wanted to go to clubbing in London but Seba…”

He laughed. “You make them sound like a couple.”

“They are.”

“They’re guys but they’re a couple?”


“Wait.” I imagined him holding up his hand. “They’re poofs?”

“No, they’re gay,” I said, slowly.

“Same thing.” His tone was indignant.

“I think the word gay is more appropriate.”

“You went out with two poofs? Why? I don’t understand that.”

“What don’t you understand?” I asked.

“Why would you want to go out with…”

I interrupted him. “Because they’re my friends.”

“But they’re poofs.”

“I don’t appreciate you talking about my friends like that.”

“I don’t like poofs,” he said, sounding angry. “And I’m entitled to my opinion.”

“I think your opinion is shitty,” I replied in my snippy tone.

Guess that’s the end of Sean.

Ignorant peasant.




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