I came across a post a friend had shared on my Facebook Wall- back when Wall was still a thing.

Four years ago today-

"26 has happened, someone was supposed to meet me!"
"Can't la, *insert author's name* has discontinued his column in the newspaper and I need time to get over this trauma."

I remember that too well. It hit me enough that I called Man Friday to rant- back when talking to Man Friday (MF) was still a thing.

"I promise you, one day we'll have breakfast in his house. Bacon, eggs, sausages...he's going to make it all for us. I'll make it happen."
Broken hearted, I believed. I lapped at every word MF had to say. To be honest, his words were all I had in times of sadness. When sadness truly meant no column by my favourite author in the newspaper.

2018, I'm working on a book which will be co-authored by him. Hoping I wouldn't have to do it. It's not the easiest book to work on, he's not the easiest guy to deal with. Thankfully, I don't have to deal with him or my fifteen-year-old self would die of anxiety thinking about it.

If only, I could go back in time and tell the little girl who started reading his work back in the early noughties, hang in there, you wouldn't want it one bit in time to come.