January 6th, 1990

January 6th, 1990

At Pamsy’s, Sussex

Standby ended this afternoon and I was surprised I didn’t get called out. Ben rang twice; once in the morning then again in the afternoon, right after I got off the phone with Pamsy.

“You’re all done with standby?” he asked.

“As of fifteen minutes ago.”

“So you’re free again?”

“From standby, yes.”

“I mean you’re free to go out again?”


“Great, great. So, eh do you fancy going out later?”

“Most definitely,” I enthused. “It is Saturday night, after all.”

“Come and pick me up around eight?”

“Sorry, no, I can’t.”

“Oh, car trouble?”

“No, my car’s running great.”

“So?” he asked.

“So what?”

“So why can’t you pick me up?”

“I have plans,” I stated.

“To do what?”

“To go out.”


“A friend.”

“Which friend?” he asked.

“None of your bloody business!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled.

“Have a nice weekend,” I chirped.

“Eh, yeah, you too. You too.”

I quickly hung up with the expectation that I’d feel smug and satisfied but instead, I felt absolutely horrible, like I was the meanest person in the world. I was sorely tempted to ring him back and tell him I was sorry then rush over to see him but I knew Pamsy would kill me if I dared to change our plans.

Arrived here and seven and wasted no time changing, before heading out on the town with my best mate.


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