And in my wisdom would take Tom for a drink. He didn’t do drugs, didn’t take nameless girls home, and you didn’t judge, you admired him for it. He made comments about his appearance, and you credited him with a dry, deprecating sense of humour. He didn’t dance in clubs, and so you thought he was shy, standing off by himself most of the evening. Only a fool would have thought otherwise. Everything is relative.Īnd everything pointed to Tom outlasting every one of us. When J is getting the sack because he has been on a Ketamine binge and can’t stand up for two days, and Alison is turning up for lectures with semen in her hair, you don’t feel so crummy. Perhaps the company I kept gave me a false sense of my emotional and physical well-being.
I was in a bad way myself, although I couldn’t see it. Most everyone I knew back when I first returned to Sheffield was a lush, a druggie or just plain crazy. Which at the time was unusual within my circle of friends.
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