About a month ago, my friend from University phoned me up and said he was going to come up and visit me during my vacation. We lived together as room mates for three years, we went to Amsterdam and the Glastonbury festival together, got stoned together and once walked the 25 miles from Manchester to Wigan together, Suffice to say we were tight. I hadn't seen him for like eleven years and I thought that was it.
But when he got in touch I was so pleased. Now we spoke, and he said he was going to come up from London with his son, and stay with me, on what in my mind, was the FOURTH of August. I stayed in all day waiting for him to knock at my house, but he didn't arrive. I tried to find his phone number but couldn't.
I checked my messages, tried to find his phone number on my computer, but could get nothing. I assumed he'd thought better of it. The next day I went out to visit friends, and today went to visit my parents in Liverpool. When I returned home there was a message on my phone to say it was him, he had come up on the FIFTH. I felt so bad.
There were definitely some 'crossed wires' there. I was sure it was the fourth, he must have said the fifth. We hadn't exchanged mobile numbers, I could not find his number, the whole thing was a disaster. I have sat in my house for two weeks nearly, but on the day he came I wasn't there.
He had paid money to come the two hundred miles from London to Manchester, expecting to stay the night with me. I wasn't there. I've tried to phone him to apologise but there is no answer. I feel like a right cunt. It's really got me down and I'm sure thats one more friend from my past that is gone forever. (At Christmas, I fell out with my best friend of 25 years, Godfather to my son Joe and the other guy that lived with me and the one I'm writing about now when we were at Uni.) Twenty years ago we were the three amigos. I think I've managed to erase the final trace of that this week.
