Eight years on

Corinne and I are sitting in a pub in Lamb’s Conduit Street. She has a glass of wine, but for once, I’m on the lime and soda. We’re waxing a little nostalgic, as I’m describing a recent Griffin gig that I went to (of which no more need be said, other than some things don’t change).

As we sit there, we realise that it’s an important anniversary week.

‘It’s eight years, you know’

‘In some ways it doesn’t seem long, but then in ways it feels longer’

And she’s right. It’s had to believe that it’s been eight years since we met, but then so much has happened, so many things have changed. People have moved away, physically, and in terms of the amount of contact that we have with each other. One person isn’t here any more, and we can’t lose sight of the fact that it’s also the anniversary of loosing her.

But it’s time to raise a glass - of wine, of course, and possibly with a side order of chips – wherever you are, what ever you may be doing, here's to the Northern Division.