Something quite, quite amazing happened yesterday afternoon which had me almost tearful. As I wrote here, I’ve been thinking about trying to find the family of my old school friend, Andrew Fox. They were great, warm people, whom the class got to know quite well. They came with us to Glasgow, for example, where in 1999 we competed in and won a wheelchair dance competition. Andy passed on in 2001, in my final year at special school, so I thought my chances for tracking them down were remote. Nonetheless, I did a bit of googling, and Managed to find a woman of the right name in the right area. I messaged her on Facebook, and – what d’ya know – I found foxy’s sister.

I was almost weeping with the beauty of it: her mum apparently remembered me, and was glad I still thought about Andy. So much had happened since I last saw Mrs Fox – it might even have been at his funeral, sixteen years ago – I barely knew where to begin. We only exchanged a few brief ”hellos” last night as it was getting late, but having hooked up now I think we’ll remain in contact. I have so much to tell them, about Lyn, about London, about everything. It’ll be good, too, to find out how they’re doing. Google, it seems, has done it again; perhaps somewhere up there, Andy and the guys are looking down, and smiling.