In The Old Stand

A friend, one of the 'gang' who knew Niall and is now living in Manchester, arrived this morning. He was due to come over this week anyway, and brought forward the arrangements to be here for Niall's funeral. We met in town for lunch (went to Brasserie 66 on George's Street - okay) and then went on to The Old Stand in town for more reminiscing with the two Grand-Prix-lunch mates Carl and I had been with on Monday evening.

We'd heard from Niall's partner yesterday and he'd mentioned that he'd like to meet up with 'the boys' to discuss what's to happen tomorrow at the funeral. That was duly confirmed for 7.00 pm, which gave me enough time to get home after a few hours of more reminiscences and walk down to the DART (must have my walking exercise!) to get across the city to meet up again. There were eight of us gathered, and we exchanged stories about the departed, mulled over the circumstances of his sudden end, and generally indulged in a bit of a cathartic session. I got the DART home at 11.00 and walked the rest of the way. I spent a rather restless night, anxious about tomorrow and the actual finality of events in the crematorium.