Readers with stamina will recall that my best friend is Bob. We conduct this relationship without feeling it necessary to communicate or meet for great chunks of time, then go and live near each other for ten years or so until we're sick of each other. We go away on reading breaks together and carry on where we left off. We're fine with that. Whoever dies second will conduct the other's funeral incorporating a flip-chart exercise of suggesting words that could not be used to describe the deceased. If it's his funeral then 'organised' will probably be suggested. If it's mine he'll forget the flip-chart.
Bob is able to disappear from society for great lengths of time then come back with a sentence or observation of such precision and wisdom that you wish he'd go away more. Mind you the second sentence is often almighty drivel so don't wait around for that.
Anyway, to cut a longish story shortish, I have spent some chunks of my life waiting for Bob, knowing that it would be worthwhile.
It is almost Advent, a time when Christians look forward to the return of Jesus Christ with hope and expectation. As this is a bit weird we pretend that we are looking forward to Christmas.
In the local Wetherspoons pub, The Glassmaker in Nailsea, where a pint of 'Sorry not available' is quite cheap, I was visiting for breakfast (I know, I have a tough life) when I observed that 'Sorry not available' has been replaced with a friendlier sign.
Wikwar Brewery of Gloucester produces a beer called 'Bob'. (You can guess where this is going.) The sign on the tap says 'Bob is coming soon'.
The reason for this post is that I texted him today to point this out and enquire about his health. No reply. His wife will see this and read out any amusing bits. It may lead to us communicating. It's a long shot but it's his turn to arrange the next retreat.
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