I am conscious of the fact that as I approach the third trimester of my own life, there are older friends getting ready to leave. It is the natural cycle of life and in my head, philosophically, I accept that. Nevertheless, when it comes around and you lose a friend it kicks you hard. I don't usually make friends with my PhD students, there is too much at stake and you need to be there to give them the support they can't get anywhere else. You get close to them of course, usually mediated by their enthusiasm for their work and the work provides a bridge. But B. was different. Older than me and writing about his time in Spain after the death of Franco we just clicked. I enjoyed his company and will miss our weekly meetings. That, I have to say, was an unusual schedule - he needed the anchor it provided him because he had a lot of time on his hands but I don't think he ever realised that I really, really enjoyed them - he was an auld goat, a fantastic writer and storyteller - looking for Che Guevara in the Congo (you couldn't make it up) I will miss those meetings and him a great deal...
