The name was created by my sister Emma. As you should know by now my family are just strange when it comes to naming things. It is like nouns are for everybody else. Please don’t ask me why.
His correct name is Robert Wilson. I am fairly sure he won’t want me to give his middle initial. He was as described in the title the best man at my wedding.
We met at University. Initially we really would not tolerate on another. After about three months, one of the girls in our flat decided we all needed to go out and get to know one another. I am not a fan of such occasions nor is Best Man Bob (Please blame Emma for the epithet). Anyway we are at this social occasion ensuring we are pointedly ignoring each other. Then another friend comes out with this ludicrous remark about how “she doesn’t fit in because no one understands her” Everyone else couldn’t wait to tell her how “they really cared” Bob and I just remarked “Can’t you make friends then?” and connected.
We have remained firm friends since some forty years now. What I find special is our friendship. It does not require reassurance.
The picture comes from a working holiday in the Far East.
Bob is standing on the edge of a precipice, some 3000 ft in height, or so we were told. I had no intention whatsoever of finding out or being anywhere near where he is standing.
There is something about that holiday, goodness it was eventful.
Some 30+ years later Bob still remembers the colour of the T shirt he was wearing. However, he now conveniently forgets about hanging me off some suspension bridge by my ankles.
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