I dreamt I saw Ickle Harry again, and he was "hanging out" with all my "pals". And he was still short, and tiny and inestimably cool. So we did a little high-five, and he gave me a hug, and I thought about how he might be grown up now, and drinking like he did when he was with us, when he was eleven and wore little hawaiian shirts and sang the "RA BAR" song, and the song about child protection. And when we went to Glyndbourne and he held my hand and threw up in the bus. I remember when we sat in the Cantebury hall and he sat in my lap while we wrote about leaving and fell asleep, because he never got enough sleep those weeks, he was so small and precocious.
Ah! The good times.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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