Meeting Teddy for the first time

I always find the first days back in England quite exciting. I usually arrive with no agenda at all – not because I am a freewheeling kind of guy, but because I am usually disorganized or have just finished a contract at work so haven’t had any time to think of anything at all. That’s my story and I am sticking to it – and if there’s any lies in it, they’ll just have to fester into truth.
 
For a number of reasons I hadn’t been looking forward to the English part of trip; for years and years it has had nothing to do with being a trip for me – all to do with fulfilling family responsibilities and showing my face. I basically run from visit to visit, answer the same questions, voice the same opinions, either none of which are shared or all of which are shared. Of course, it is nice to be with family and in the place of my birth and upbringing – even though it is now so far from being “home” that it feels strange and surreal.
 
This year, well “Brexit” and “election” should be enough to explain everything.
 
When I came over last year, however, I decided to do a couple of things for me; this year, I have decided to do more things for me. Two trips to Ireland – one to Cork with great friends from London and Dublin, and one to Dublin to see more of the great friends from Dublin and go to a Damien Dempsey concert. And I have vowed to see a couple of friends at least – because I so rarely do. And of all the things I miss about Liverpool – family, friends, football, pubs, music – friends are the ones I have least contact with.
 
So after having spent a nice day at home, puttering about and chatting, I had dinner with Heather and then went down to Aigburth – the part of Liverpool in which I grew up – to see my old friend (probably my oldest friend, actually) Steve Cheers. Last year I came back for his wedding to Hannah, this year I was going back to meet the plum of his loins. For, at the ripe old age of 54, Mr. Cheers has become a father again.  I was delighted to see him so well and happy – and to boot, he has developed a girth resembling my own, a real thing to celebrate.

Theodore Rafael, what a great name. I’d brought a couple of gifts over from Canada (the most annoying things I could think for a young baby to have: Alphabet Pal and a bangy, plinky-plonky xylophone. They may look nice, but Ottawacker Jr. had some similar things and they drive you wild after a week. Such is friendship.
 
I was able to see Teddy, as he is known, getting bathed with mum & dad, Steve’s mum (who looks younger now than when I knew her growing up) and his daughter, and then we sat around talking until 3.30, drinking all of his wine and reminiscing. There are many bad things about not being in the same country as friends, but some of the things are good. One of the best is that you get to have intense “binge-watching” sessions, where you open up and discover all sorts of things that you didn’t know in one go. I love it – and I love the honesty and openness that comes with it. I think people are much more guarded and circumspect around those they have to see every day. With people like me, who just parachute in, they can open up and be honest; there is no comeback.
 
We talked about my book too – and Steve has decided to buy the film rights, once it is written and published. So there you go. That’s my future decided.
 
And Teddy, of course, is a little star.