Thank you to Hugh for featuring me in the first of his new series of stories, music and features on his blog.
London – January 6th, 1988.
Alan was dead. I couldn’t believe it, but it didn’t stop my housemate, Stephen, cooking dinner and inviting me to eat with him and his boyfriend, Kev.
Tears spoilt our appetites, but we all agreed that Alan would have wanted us to laugh. So we laughed and cried together while chicken in a white wine sauce went cold on our plates.
I only wished I had talked more to Alan. The fact that he tried to take his own life, last August, was a warning to all of us. But he was so difficult to talk to. He’d deny there was anything wrong and try and change the subject as quickly as possible.
I felt sorry for Kev. He’s younger than Stephen and I and hasn’t been on the scene very long. While we were doing the washing up, Stephen mentioned to me that Kevin was terrified of…
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