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I'd go back to 1990, very briefly, to the eve of my brother's wedding.
J (my then boyfriend) had been having problems at home culminating in a massive row with his Dad and the decision to move out. He'd got himself a bedsit flat and I was helping him move in. It was dismal and depressing and lonely. I just couldn't bear to leave him there that first night, alone in this back of beyond little room, with its 60s wallpaper and furniture and a TV that only showed one channel, when it would deign to work at all.
I was supposed to be at home (mum's) that night ... Martin and Mum and I were having one last night as the three musketeers, before he and Jen wed and they moved into their new house in Nottingham.
I ended up staying with J in that bedsit. I think I really hurt Mart with that. Temporarily. All was forgiven and understood as the kind of thing a teenager does...but I do wish we'd had that last night.
That said...J was hurtling into a deep, deep depression and who knows how far he'd have fallen that night. *shrugs*
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