Fiona was standing by my clothes. It was clear she had no intention of turning her back or walking away a little. I stood, cupped my balls and walked ...owards her. At the small pile, I clearly had to uncup to be able to pick up shorts (I decided to leave off smelly, stained pants). “So ... you are wearing a different pair to last night. I saw your Donald Duck pants [how embarrassing – they seemed funny when I bought them] by the rucksack. I TOLD YOU!”“Fiona! Fiona! Stop. You have the wrong end. How's Dad?"She sighed. "Not good. Not good. They reckon he'll never leave thehospital. Mum hasn't left his bedside." I could hear the tears in hervoice and elected to change the subject."Tell you what. Why don't you come into town? We could meet for adrink. Catch up on old times."She thought about it for a moment. "Why not? Dave'll look after Mike." How is Dave?" Same as ever. Says 'hello', by the way." Right. That's settled then. See you in the bar around nine?" Nine it is."It was 7.30 now.. More

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