…recently laid to rest
This is one of those random events that leave a smear of residue, a small fluff ball of memory that clings to the fabric of life when so much else is washed away.
For anybody who sweltered through it, the summer of 1976 in the UK will always be remembered as one of the hottest and driest.
The young man in the sweatshirt and grubby blue jeans stands out amidst the genteel splendour of the opera house, an ugly intrusion like a foul weed in a bed of delicate perennials.
I don’t know how many USB drives I’ve acquired, lost, borrowed or given away. They rattle around in drawers and lie hidden at the bottom of bags.