My green shirted friend has the jump on most of us because he listens to The Stooges and has the Ramones album. One night there are huddles of concern: he is tripping, is away and travelling bereft. He is just this side of gibber and adamant that he has to go up to London to see his girlfriend. Tall unflappable public school friend H. drives us up the M3 in his Morris Minor: hallucinating party in the front seat, me in the back, leaning forward, left hand tightly gripping the passenger side door handle the whole way, just in case.