Today as the rain fell in bucket loads – like it would never stop – I sat in the warmth and comfort of the County Hotel in the very heart of Durham, sipping hot latte coffee from a long glass and talking with friends from my prison service days, Tony and Alan.
We talked about the times we remembered as being especially good – were they so good we wondered? Or does everyone look back on certain times and think they were happier, sweeter, more fun? Is it the – summer was always hotter when we were young brand of nostalgia? Maybe – who knows? I’m not sure it matters. What matters is having times like these to look back on and more importantly friends to talk it over with. Friends: Tony, who shared some of his early prison service stories with me for my P.I. Danny Beck novel (now out there somewhere – I hope giving a good account of itself)- and Alan, who promises to show me his Newcastle if I get the chance to write the next Danny Beck.
Talking of Newcastle led us to The Taxi Drivers Daughter by the late Julia Darling – Alan has been reading and enjoying it – and I came away thinking of Julia and how she will never not be missed and how generous she was in her praise of my writing and in her encouragement – and not just to me but to everyone. And how she was full of inspiration and fun and ideas – and how she was a great friend to many and how I wished I’d known her better.
As I drove home on the high road, through the rain induced fog, hills running with water, I thought of Danny Beck (he makes similar journeys) and of his growing sense of belonging in the very centre of Newcastle which is expressed in the novel and how much that mirrors my own growing sense of belonging here in the North East.
