Robert Hugill

Because life's not like that really!

On Monday, Jamie arrived promptly, dressed casually but warmly with a heavy, patterned sweater that looked distinctly homemade. As Russ manoeuvred himself into the little Fiat, he commented on the sweater and Jamie laughed. Evidently, his mother was a great knitter and was convinced that he would freeze to death in Ireland. “If it’s not rude, how did an Englishman end up working in Ireland?” “Dual nationality. Granddad was Irish, came over to England for the work.” “And never l

Matt got up first. The bed did not really make you want to linger; it was functional but little more. He said that he was going to look for breakfast and came back with coffee (the flat was at least equipped with a cafetiere), bread, pastries and such. We should have thought to bring things with us, and I rather regretted the lack of Matt’s nice bread or decent pastries from Treasures. Still, we sat in bed and had our coffee and such, mulling over the previous day. “What are you planning

Sunday morning, Russ really did ache all over, and bits of him were turning alarming colours. Still, nothing felt damaged, and he couldn’t face queuing at A&E or whatever they called it here. He had health insurance, a good one. Did it cover unprovoked attacks? He couldn’t face a phone call with his PA, Felicity; she’d want details and insist on him doing things properly. He emailed her, saying he’d had a minor accident, nothing to worry about. But it had set him thinking. Almost by r

Slightly more than that. 3 more I think.

I had intended for Gray to be more unlikeable but somehow as the character developed the corners rather rubbed off. But it was still nice to bring back the crankieer elements occasionally.

The bed was a disaster. Matt had bounced on it jokingly only to discover that it sagged so badly that we would both be rolling into the middle. And it was way too short for him, his feet hung off the end. He was resigned to it, but I was horrified. The alternative was me sleeping on the sofa, so that he could sleep diagonally. That just about worked but was hardly the weekend à deux that we’d had in mind. Matt said a firm no to that one. The flat was OK. I had stayed in worse. The déc

I wasn't even aware there was an American spelling of 'kerb'!

After a relatively late breakfast the next morning (Saturday), the boys wanted to get stuck into football straight away. But Lisa had other ideas and hustled them away; they had tasks to do. There were groans, but they were surprisingly tractable. Russ wasn’t sure whether the tasks were genuine, or whether Lisa was being tactful and not throwing him in the deep end straight away. Whichever it was, Russ was grateful. Con offered to show him round the rest of the house, though the other g

Yes, the story begins in July and ends in December (so a bit more than summer). Having started writing it, I went back and mapped out the passage of time so that it works. Sort of!

Tolly, Matt’s friend from college, was of medium height, chunky with a mop of curly blond hair and smile that made you think he was going to be trouble. Instead, he hugged Matt with a cry of “Matt, my man”, then smiled at me. Bloody hell, he even had dimples. And he said that it was a pleasure to meet Matt’s mystery man at last. We were going back to the Old White Horse. The Immanent Dance Crew, the band with a queer following, was back by popular request and Matt and I were going with s

Yes, I have always assumed that too

Technically Paki is an insult for those from the Indian subcontinent, but laterly I heard it as a general racist insult. Here it's meant to suggest the yobs' ignorance

“How’s the house coming along?” Con stiffened behind the steering wheel but didn’t say anything. So Russ ploughed on. “I’m only asking because I’m interested. You said there was progress.” It was intended simply to be conversation in the car, as Con had picked him up from the bus station. But clearly the subject was still touchy. “Not as much as we’d like. Lisa’s cousin Donal and his mates are a great help, but…” It hit Russ what the problem was. “They’re doing it as a barro

Not intentionally, I just like the name.