I'm lying in bed with G.

It's about 10am.

He has been up since 7am, doing stuff, organising our lives while I was snoozing the morning away.

He came up and climbed on the bed, my arm easily slips over his leg.

He has great legs.

We're just laying there and Baker Street comes on whatever music channel is playing on the TV.

This song, every time I hear it takes me back to my school days and getting drunk with a chap called Micheal Gass.

We got drunk for the first time on a school trip to York, where after visiting the Train museum we bought a six pack of Skol lager and got twisted in the park.

We were fourteen or fifteen.

The Teacher was not very impressed.

After then we went drinking on a regularly basis, both of us being bigger than the average pupil therefore getting served was not an issue.

I think we were friend because he used to sit behind me in registration, I remember having a debate with him about the fate of Winston Smith from 1984.

He said he never dies in the book, I said he did as there was a sentence on the last page that detailed a bullet entering the brain of Smith.

Anyway.

we both left school and I haven't seen him since.

I heard that he joined IBM.

I hope he's ok.

But listening to that sax solo bought it all back for me.

Like it does every time.