I hardly met the man. Yet, forty years later, and I’m still thinking about him.

He would have been around my age now . Back then older people were about as interesting to me as furniture; just things that existed in the background. It was girls that had my attention. Closely followed by lads to go drinking flagons of cider with. And yet, this old man stood out like a beacon.

I can’t remember how we ended up in his house. I was with my dad, so it must have been one of his friends. I do remember there being singing with everyone expected to have a go. The Pogues had just released their first album so diddly-diddly music was back in style. I still had dreams of joining the next U2, so I didn’t mind giving a shaky rendition of ‘The Rare Old Times”.

So why did that old fella have such a huge impact? It wasn’t anything he said. We may not have even exchanged any words. But, the whole sitting room appeared to orbit around him. Like a tree in the forest, he belonged in that room. Out of nowhere, his teenage daughter leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It was clear that she and the rest of the family adored him, and so did the neighbours. And yet, he was just ordinary

For a few years, alcohol seemed to almost provide me with that ease. But it turned out to be a sham. Countless times in desperation my mind offered a tantalizing other possibility with this memory. After all, the one thing I do remember hearing that night was how he had once been the village drunk.

Now, I could have been wrong about him. Maybe he was nowhere near as at ease as I imagined. And yet, it doesn’t matter. That memory worked like a lighthouse guiding me to safety. I hardly met the man, yet he changed everything.

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