Simon and a spot of Proust

To Wimbledon today, by train to East Croydon, and then caught a tram to Wimbledon, which having done it a few times, still strikes me as a bit of a novelty. To the Hand and Racquet a decent but unremarkable pub a short walk from the station. I was there to meet Simon, probably my best pal when I was at University who I have not seen for about twenty years. We just sat in the bar drinking beers all afternoon catching up. It was a bit weird at first, but when Simon sauntered over to the bar I had a bit of a Proustian moment, the sight of my old friend buying beers was so familiar something in me fell into place. 

Lots of news of course, like the fact we had both got remarried. He had lived for six years in the north of Scotland. His three boys are now in their twenties. And he had a major health scare to do with his pancreas and blood sugar which put him in a coma several years ago, a bit of a landmark in his life. I found my old friend at a good time in his life, happy in his own skin and enjoying life. It made me very happy to see him again. Fond farewells at Wimbledon station, and promises not to leave it another twenty years.

Chugged home by tram (crowded and me self-conscious about smelling of beer at tea time) and home to Seaford where Lorraine had food prepared for me. A happy day.