Ray is 70, Mick is 57: Cue much discussion of premises long gone and still hanging in there, the notorious pub with regular brawls and conversation about other stuff from which I drifted off.
It was a great night, dominated as it was by genuinely fascinating tidbits about past neighbourhood life, shady and otherwise.
For one, back then they were all driving pissed home to the suburbs from the city... sounds terrifying the way Mick cheerfully recounts it.
They were also both thrilled to escape it.
After dinner at the Judgement Bar, Raymond, exhausted pilgrim that he was, went straight back to his room at the Royal Sovereign that I’d booked. Mick and I made a pilgrimage to the Oxford and stayed a while… and crashed some time later.
I bid Ray farewell this morning.
I’ve known him for 16 years and he’s a blast:
He started as a window-dresser then went into TV and advertising,
He has a voice for radio – never used, much to my consternation.
He let me stay at his place for two months, years ago.
He rides a motorbike.
He has several piercings that are NSFW.
He’s a great photographer.
He just polished my parquetry!
Now that’s a good pilgrim.
Although I do worry about him turning my apartment into the House of Cock:
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