Towards the Christians

Thursday and the SK decided I’d benefit from a stroll along the front at Portobello. Very much her go-to place, being an old Portobello gal. Of course, being down there, and not far away from his old flat I couldn’t help but head over the footbridge across the Harry Lauder road and railway line to the Christians, as it is known locally. And there was his flat, blinds all pulled down. I went into the front garden and looked at the paving slabs we’d laid together and then we retraced our steps down to the seafront.
In the afternoon the daughter popped in awhile and we chatted while small boy, all spotty with chicken pox, played with the wooden train set.
And later, the boat council – Peter met me outside, put his arm round my shoulder and told me he’d let everyone know. They all looked up as I came in, and I said a few words before we got down to business – I’m coping better as I didn’t falter in uttering them. But then afterwards Andy gave me an embrace and told me how sorry he was. He was a social worker and a really good guy – he knew of Robbie’s circumstances too. Suddenly I was struggling again. Jees, this bites.
In the background I’ve been digging out everything I can that he left online before it goes. I always encouraged him to write and in 2023 when he was in a better place he wrote up a few reminiscences of events four years earlier: The big weekend part 1 and part 2 certainly get you into his head, should you wish.