Last Orders.

I hung up and walked back into the pub.

“Sorry Shay pal, I’ll have to owe you the pint, I have to get back home.”

“Alright mate. See you”

I never did. A day or two later he killed himself.

I wasn't a close friend of Seamus, but I’d known him a long time. He was the bar manager in the Pilgrim when I and my mates had run our comedy gig from 2004. After I left uni I didn't see him ‘till a few months back, when he called me over in the street.

We couldn't remember each others’ names, but we knew the face.

I drank in his new pub, the Thatched House, on and off until a fortnight ago, when it was mysteriously locked up. I found out yesterday why. Shay was gone, and he’d been found there.

I wasn't a close friend, but I think of myself as a friend. A lot of people did. He was a good guy and a great barman. He got me to drink six pints of Carling. He must have been a great barman to do that.

He seemed to know everyone, and everyone seemed to know him. I knew he’d had some trouble in the past, but to think I’ll never buy a pint of him again seems unreal.

He was my friend, and it hit me harder than I would have expected – not that you can ever expect this kind of thing. He wasn't much older than me, but he had a kid I think, and how would you get your head around your dad doing that? Part of me can’t believe he’s gone.

Wherever you are Seamus mate, I hope it’s a better place for you. Keep a barstool free for me, and when my time comes I’ll settle my liquid debt with you.

Those that knew him won’t forget him, and in that way he’ll never be fully gone.

Where the hell have I been! (And did anyone notice?)

Well. Long time no see eh?

I've been a touch busy the last few months and criminally not blogged. In all honesty, A Writer's Bloc all but slipped my mind, and it was only a post about a madbloggers award do on FB that reminded me I'd been neglecting my wordly duties!

Much of August was spend in Edinburgh at the biggest festival on Earth - the Edinburgh Fringe, of which more in later blogs - when I returned work was in a hell of a mess, and so was the craptop, so I've been a little bit distracted truth be told.

What else have you, possibly fictional reader, missed?

Well, I'm off to Istanbul in February with my dad, who I have taken to calling Henry VI because he's onto his third divorce, I'm trying to organise my college's 11-year reunion because no-one could be arsed to organise one for our tenth this year, and the dog has started to talk to me.



Anyway, more blogs with proper subjects, grammar (sometimes) and time spend on them to follow in the next few days away from work.

My mileometer ticks over to 29 this week. I'm almost too old to play teenagers or comedy Asian hookers now, should Hollywood come a calling.

Me love you all long time.