The ache

It never goes away, but resurfaces, sometimes, in unexpected settings. Like at work at around 5:00 this morning. One of my colleagues was reading yesterday's Daily Telegraph, and mentioned, as a humorous aside, a rather inane 'letter to the editor'. What caught my attention, though, was where the writer of the letter lived. The small Cornish town where I worked until my transplantation to London in 2010. And then the memories kicked in. Memories of sitting in my old workplace, as, day after day, the most beautiful boy in the world walked past. Yes, I never really knew him. Yes, he's a boy no longer - he's a year older than K. But the feelings I had for him are as strong as ever. DBJ. Lost, but never, ever forgotten.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B