Friends Like These: My Worldwide Quest to Find My Best Childhood Friends, Knock on Their Doors, and Ask Them to Come Out and Play by Danny Wallace Page B

each year, do three and a half thousand dinners a week. About twenty-five staff. But we
do
have fun.”
    “That’s brilliant, mate,” I said, genuinely impressed with how big it all sounded. “How about at home?”
    “Oh, I’m married now. To Claire. She’s amazing. The best thing I ever did was marry Claire. She’s so easygoing. There are
     only two rules she sets for me—no other women, no other men. Other than that, I’m as free as free can be.”
    “We’re going out a bit later on in Loughborough with Michael Amodio,” said Anil. “Are you coming out?”
    “Right…” said Simon, thinking. “I might have to run it by the wife.”
    Luckily, Claire works at the Toby Carvery as well, and Simon dashed off to ask permission.
    “We’re with Simon Gibson!” I said, to Anil. “He’s a whole new man! He’s in
charge
of all this!”
    It seemed a far cry from the Simon of old. It was great.
    Moments later, he was back.
    “Right. I have permission. But I can’t be out too late. Claire’s said she’ll get a lift to Loughborough later on and drive
     me back in our car. Listen—I only live round the corner. I should put a different shirt on. Come round—you can see my baby!”
    “You’ve got a
baby?
” I said.
    Simon had
definitely
grown up.
    Simon whipped the white rubber sheet away and said, “There she is! My baby! My pride and joy!”
    We stood there, staring at a classic white MG—clearly the result of a boyhood ambition successfully realized.
    “She’s beautiful!” said Anil, and I kicked myself as I remembered that I too should refer to cars as female.
    “What a lovely old woman!” I said.
    “I’d always wanted one of these,” he said, proudly. “Of course, we’ve still got the Ford Fusion. Got to have a sensible car,
     too. But this… this is my baby. Hundred pounds a year insurance, no tax.”
    I made an impressed face using my eyebrows and lips. I never know what to say when people tell me about their car insurance.
    “Anyway, I’ll get my shirt… come inside, meet the dog…”
    Simon’s front room was as cozy as the carvery, with soft lamps and large sofas, and photos of his wedding scattered about
     the place. And, most noticeably, a large and enthusiastic dog who clearly hadn’t seen anyone all day.
    “What’s the dog called?” I shouted to Simon, as it tried its best to pop its paws inside my mouth and nose.
    “Pepsi!” he shouted.
    Ah. I got it.
    “You always did like Pepsi & Shirley. Is that who she’s named after?”
    “She’s named after the drink,” he said. “The drink of ‘Pepsi.’”
    I felt a bit silly asking that. Maybe it was just me who’d become momentarily hung up on those days. Simon had so far seemed
     a little further on down the track of accepting adulthood than me. Yes, he was settled, like me, but he’d taken it
further.
He had a proper job with “manager” in the title. He had a
dog.
And he’d even bought his midlife crisis car—about fifteen years before he’d needed to. He was embracing his move into the
     world of the thirty-something with gusto and grace. He wasn’t looking back. He wasn’t looking to the past. He wasn’t hung
     up on things that were once important to him, like…
    Hang about.
    What was
this?
    “Simon! What’s this? On your wall.”
    “What’s what?” said Simon, coming down the stairs with a smart shirt on.
    “This!”
    I pointed at it.
    “Ah…” he said. “That, my friend, is a sealed, framed original
Back to the Future III
movie poster, signed by Michael J. Fox, along with cells from the actual film.”
    My God. This was like 1980s
treasure.
    “Now
that
is impressive,” said Anil.
    “The fact that it’s signed?” said Simon.
    “The fact that your wife lets you hang it up in the living room.”
    “I told you,” he said, putting his finger in the air. “No other women. No other men. The rest is up to me. Right. I’d better
     just feed the dog or Claire will go
mental.
”
    Simon took