Think of the Devil....

I was pottering about this morning getting ready for work, when an old friend came into my mind.

Having moved home in September, and having not seen her since she ripped me off for twenty quid to fund the beginnings of an all consuming, two year fling with Messrs. Crack and Heroin, the thought went through my mind that I might hear from her apart from the fact that she no longer has my number.

Lo and behold! The house phone rings, and I hear familliar tones.

We fell into the old patterns of chat, like there hasn't been any of the neglect and prostitution and thieving in the time she's been in hell.

And I've no doubt in my mind that is precisely where she's been in these two years since the Friday sessions stopped and she stopped choosing life.
We used to dance in her kitchen to Moloko and Macy Gray and Fat Boy Slim, and sing our heads off, until we were nicely breathless and very drunk.

Anyway, that all changed and she has since lived a life unthinkable.

But like I asked her, "What the fuck did you expect?"
There was always an element of playing the movies in her head. It brightened up an otherwise mundane, utterly wasted life. I guess she fancied herself as Uma Thurman.

Anyway, she has been getting treatment, funded by her parents, and as far as she's saying, she's back and back for good.

It makes me happy to hope so at least.

She's been a friend for a very long time, and I have missed her and her children.

I must tell her one day how angry I've been that she left me unable to help her.

I've seen other acquaintances, friends and a past love lost to this shit and I hope I shall continue reporting that she isn't another of them.