August 18 — Seamus returns
He was standing in the entryway of the Iron Maiden when I pulled up at 5:15 in the morning. The first burst of coffee from an hour and a half earlier was starting to wear out, but I felt glad to see him. We greeted each other with beaming smiles.
“It’s good to see you, my friend,” I said.
He brought a bag out and we went back to his car. He was wary of driving. Too long in the U.K., he said. He’d gotten used to looking the opposite way for cars coming.
I was too tired to be concerned. “Ah, it’ll come back to you,” I said. He started telling me about how hard it was to leave Oxford, then caught himself.
“What am I doing? I need to hear about your life! But if you’re too tired no worries.”
I was too tired. “Let me conk out for like 45 minutes,” I said, “then I’ll tell you all about it.”