I meet someone somehow and we bond in a pale, consumptively innocent kind of way over literature and poetry, as our intellects mash wildly against each other. We sit up till all hours being poetic. She has a boyfriend at home called Dave. Dave comes down to visit: he is a bit of a lump. She can’t live without Dave and drops out to be with Dave. She sends me some of her poems, and I give her my honest opinion of them. I visit her once above her dad’s chemist shop in Oxted, but it’s frosty and that’s that.