The door to Trev’s flat was open so I walked in and found him on the sofa watching TV. He looked up and gave an ironic cheer. How long was it? We thought it must be at least a year since we’d last seen each other, maybe a year and a half. And how was Trev? He was fine, he said. He had plenty of work on — building work and delivering logs — and was generally taking care of himself.
We had arranged to go for a few scoops at the pub. While he got ready he told me what he’d been up to. The headline news was the closing down of the King Bill, about which I already knew. Trev went to the private closing-down party, he said. The departing landlord locked everyone inside the pub and told them to drink everything and smoke away.
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