Maxed out Bouncy Max was leaving to go on maternity leave, and me and the French Bloke (judiciously, as he was responsible for the said pregnancy) attended a leaving lunch with a large accounts posse, which also included Max the Mentor. I found myself happily sandwiched between the two Maxes and opposite the FB. After work I hurried to the tube station, where I bumped into Mick. He was wearing his policeman's uniform (during the conversation I could see a young agency creative creeping past looking alarmed). I had not seen Mick since Paddy's wedding, and he was a great schoolfriend of mine. Mick has recently separated from his wife and claimed to be living near a leper colony in Brentford. We will go for a cheeky beer soon so I can establish the facts. Then I zoomed up to Highgate in north London to see Sophie and Andros, and their bairns. Arriving was a bit of a relief as I was gripped by claustrophobia deep in King's Cross station, squeezing down a twisty passage crammed ...
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