Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll and Nursing

By Raymond Moore

When you read about what I got up to I know you'll probably think I got what I deserved. You're right—I totally agree. Many of you won't like me no doubt and that's ok—I understand, I really do. I'm not all bad, though.

I left the Isle of Skye in the early eighties to start my nursing course in Edinburgh and it's fair to say that I embraced the Capital City's temptations with arms wide open. When I moved into a shared flat I met Bill, a musician, and got involved with his band Low Down - you know, helping them out, doing a bit of driving and humping gear - it was great fun. Low Down was truly phenomenal. Man, I totally loved their music.

We took drugs, I mean, I took drugs. Nothing heavy like, just recreational and I met a lot of girls who I didn't treat right and I'm not proud of my behaviour—that's the truth. Look, nursing was a female-dominated profession and male nurses were thin on the ground - the opportunities for getting up to mischief were many. I worked hard and played harder.

A lot of stuff I regret now. Especially what I did to Lisa – and others.

Anyway it couldn't last, could it? They way I was living – something had to give. And it did.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond Moore
• Release date: Aug 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201813741

Raymond Moore

Raymond Moore is a Registered Nurse, working for The Ministry of National Guard Health Affairs in Saudi Arabia. As well as being a writer, Raymond has been a record label owner, band manager, and cover band. Born and brought up in Glasgow, he left his parents and moved to the Isle of Skye as a young teenager. Raymond is the author of the Skye Stories Trilogy available on Redshank Books and has self-published two poetry collections on Amazon. Poetry? Maybe and Poetry? Probably Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll and Nursing is his first novel. When not at work he spends his time with his wife who is Thai and their three children in Surin Province where he has a house and farm. He is currently working on his next book Castledawn a ghost story set on the Isle of Skye in the nineteen seventies.

Book preview

For lovers and the lost

He did everything to fill the rooms

with things he thought important

but like him the sparkle had gone

he tried to fill his hearts dark corners

with emotions he didn’t understand

empty head

empty bed

love words unsaid

all that’s left is an empty man.

Low Down – Empty Man

Prologue

I know myself... I know what I did was wrong and I’m not proud of it. There’s a Peter Gabriel song, No Self Control. Man, that song could’ve been written for me. No self-control – that was my problem. I’m not a cunt, honest, and I didn’t deliberately set out to hurt people. I mean it, I really do, but hurt people I did – Lisa especially. Fuck.

Like I said, no fucking self-control.

#1

MY OLD MAN WAS FROM Uig on the Isle of Skye. Met my mum at a dance in Glasgow. After getting married, they moved to Partick. An only child, I spent every summer in Uig with my Granny in Idrigil. Fucking loved it. When my folks split up – I lived with my mum in a flat on Dumbarton Road. My Dad stayed close – just off Byres Road.

One summer, I asked my Granny if I could stay and go to school in Portree. She loved the idea and spoke to my folks. Mum wasn’t too keen at first – literally had to beg her. She agreed, eventually – thank fuck. In August of 1974, I began my first year at Portree High. Man. I really enjoyed it there, not because I was a swot or anything – I wasn’t. School was great for the craic and the lassies. Mostly the lassies.

Never had any problems talking to girls at school – especially the good-looking ones. Didn’t matter if they were older or younger – I wasn’t shy. Making friends and having a laugh – I found it easy. Unfortunately, the lassies saw me as a friend and not a potential boyfriend. Annoying as fuck, man, and it made finding a girlfriend impossible – no matter how hard I tried. My problem was I chased lassies I had absolutely no chance with. Most were older – with boyfriends. Very few showed any interest in me, but there were a couple who did. No doubt about it. They encouraged my flirting and loved the attention. If I’d been so unacceptable to their eye – they’d never give me the time of day. Not much happened though – an occasional snog at a dance – if I was lucky.

Taking a summer job at Uig Hotel changed everything. It was 1979, and I was a sixteen-year-old virgin – full of raging hormones and a constant hard-on. Thank God for wanking. Had there been a masturbation class at school – I’d have been top of it. Wanking was something I was good at. Could’ve been valedictorian. Good to be good at something.

The hotel staff were students from the mainland and beyond, studying catering or hotel management courses – mostly female. Rebecca Jones, Becca, had worked the previous summer, and I had seen her a couple of times in the Ferry Inn during one of my many underage drinking sessions. From London – twenty-two and pretty sexy. Long dirty fair hair, warm dark blue eyes and, from what I could tell – a decent-looking body. Fun to work with too – she liked a carry on and never took work, or herself, too seriously.

She had had a boyfriend the previous year – some guy from Portree. This year she was single, and during a staff party, she showed more than a little interest in me. A Saturday night – we were drinking and blabbering over each other. Music blared, Bryan Ferry, I think. She sat next to me and all night her hands kept touching my leg or my arm. I didn’t think too much about it. We were all pretty steaming.

When the party broke up, we staggered back to our rooms. The girls stayed above the kitchen – accessed by a wee wooden bridge. My room was a chalet in the garden. Two of the girls said goodnight – leaving Becca outside with me.

I was totally green when it came to reading female signals. Fucking clueless, man. It was a warm night; the sky was purple – not quite dark. A star or two twinkled, and I was slobbering about my love of ELO when she pulled me in and snogged me. Fuck. She gave me the tongue. French kissing – we called it at school. A rare thing – most of my previous snogs involved a lot of air sucking and definitely no tongues. Went on for ages. I wasn’t an expert kisser – she was. I just copied what she did – and we got into a brilliant rhythm. My brain raced a mile a minute. Any minute now, she’d stop and say goodnight. Actual intercourse was the furthest thing from my mind. She didn’t stop, and I went for glory. My hand was on her tit. Now she’d call it quits. Nope, she let me feel away. Fucking hell. Her hand was under my shirt – stroking my back. My brain went into overdrive.

Its ok, it’s ok, calm the fuck down. Just relax and enjoy. You got a snog. You got a feel. Everything’s golden.

She stopped the snog.

That’s it. Finito! Calum, your number’s up. Time to come in, boy.

I was happy. Who wouldn’t be? I’d gotten the fucking tongue. She didn’t leave or say goodnight. Hand still stroking my back. My dick was hard as fuck. She gave me a look – her eyes spoke. What they said, I couldn’t translate – felt it though.

Are you a virgin, Calum?

(Smile. Her)

Yes.

(Smile. Me)

Let’s go.

She led me by the hand to her room. The bedside light radiated a warm glow. Not too bright. Our shadows slow danced on the wall. I wasn’t nervous. Fucking excited. Eyes on her every move. She slotted a tape into the cassette deck. Bish by Stephen Bishop.

Perfect soundtrack for late-night snogging. She undid her blouse. No words said. My heart was pounding. Black bra. Tits looked fucking brilliant. My eyes were glued – super-fucking glued. Casual as fuck like – she took off her jeans. Black matching knickers.

Ok, ok, ok. That’s it. That’s it. That’s fucking it. I won’t get to see anymore.

Calum, take off your clothes and get into bed.

Off came her bra and knickers. Right in front of me! Fuck... We were going to fucking do it. Like a mad man – I pulled at my t-shirt and dropped my trousers. We stood naked – I pulled her close. She kissed me. It felt different. The kiss, fuck... I don’t know. Just did.

My hands. Her tits. Nipples – small and hard. For the first time in its life, my dick had someone else’s hand on it. Fuck. Ask any guy, any fucking guy, and they’ll tell you – the first time someone else’s hand wraps around their dick is one of the best feelings ever. Ever.

We got on the bed.

Can’t lie. Well, I could. Won’t. I came within seconds of being inside her. Nanoseconds.

Bet it’ll be hard again in a minute or two, she said.

(Smile. Sexy. Her)

I’d say it was a minute – could have been two. Each time we did it – I lasted longer. How many times did we shag? We didn’t sleep a wink. Wore each other out. Becca came too – once.

Breathless and sweaty – the clock informed us it was time for work. Didn’t want to leave her room. That sex cocoon. Wanted to stay there for as long as I had a heart pumping blood. In the morning light, her naked body looked like a work of art.

Fucking hell. I felt fucking brilliant.

Shower, she ordered – I obeyed.

Serving breakfast – I was in a total daze. A sex daze. Was this love?

Fucking lust, definitely.

⧆  ⧆  ⧆

That summer was a blur of work, booze, and loads of fucking. I was sixteen and at my sexual peak – so Becca said. Not saying I was, like, you know – great at the love-making thing. I was only an apprentice doing the equivalent of a City and Guilds in shagging. Didn’t get a certificate at the end though.

Man, Becca was fun to be with. A fucking revelation – literally. Without inhibition. She’d shag anywhere. Won’t bore you with the details. Our sexual liaison locations were wide and varied. Indoors and out. If you’ve been to the top of Castle Ewan in the Ferry Glen – we fucked there. Nice.

Cleaning the guest rooms together – we shagged in the bathroom. Became a regular thing. Nearly got caught by the day manager. Becca, arse on the sink – legs akimbo. Me banging away like mad. She wouldn’t let me go. The manager called my name.

Harder, fuck me harder, she ordered. I obeyed.

When she came – I could go. Pulling up my trousers, tucking in my shirt, sweat lashing from me. The manager thought I was red-faced and sweaty because I was working hard. Yeah, right. If she only knew.

On days off, we’d spend drunken, sexy nights in the Portree Hotel. I couldn’t get enough of her. Here’s the thing though. All the time we spent together, naked – I’m not sure I had an emotional connection. I mean... I didn’t fall madly in love with her or anything. Madly in lust was fine by me – I know it suited her. Maybe I did love her on some level. I thought about her all the time. Man, she was carefree and aloof.

⧆  ⧆  ⧆

By September, the summer season was all but over, and Becca was returning to London. Her last night, we sat in her room talking – no fucking. Funny – part of me wanted to tell her I loved her. Part of me wanted to thank her for the summer fuck fest. Didn’t know how to put it into words – I said nothing. Maybe she knew. I hope she did. Never saw her again.

#2

HAVING RETURNED TO SCHOOL NOT a virgin – I remained sadly single. All year I resisted the urge to brag about Becca – telling only my best pal Dougie. He had a girlfriend and wasn’t a virgin; he was jealous as fuck though. Especially when I told him the in-depth details of my sexual summer.

The next season at the hotel, there was no one like Becca – un-fucking-fortunately. Had a laugh though – and continued to make appearances at various dances across the island. My girl-attracting success was zero though – and it wasn’t for the lack of trying. By the end of my final year at school, I’d given up looking for a girlfriend. It wasn’t as if I was a desperate virgin. Desperate, yes. But not a fucking virgin.

⧆  ⧆  ⧆

The summer of ’81 was my last on Skye and something special happened.

Memories of the night in question play like a movie. VHS with fuzzy tracking. What happened though, was as real as real could be. The memory, indelible, and stored in my heart locker.

The Skyevers were playing at a Friday night dance in the Gathering Hall. I was feeling good as I wasn’t working the next day, standing in the smoke-filled bar – nursing a can of Piper Export. Someone nudged my back. I ignored it. It happened again; accompanied by a bum pinch. I turned. It was Katie Millar – a big smile on her face. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Katie was in the year above me and had left for Robert Gordon’s in Aberdeen. I’d had a huge crush on her since the third year when I saw her playing hockey against a team from Fort William. A bunch of us guys stood around the pitch, supporting our girls, and ogling them in their hockey skirts. Katie scored first, the crowd went mad – and my crush was born.

She was fucking beautiful. Shoulder-length dark brown hair and incredible hazel eyes. Her lips man... Fuck. I daydreamed about kissing them all the time. Beneath her school uniform was a perfect body – sporty and sexy. I couldn’t keep away from her. Drawn by an invisible force – a lust tractor beam. Her having a boyfriend didn’t stop me. I was hooked, totally. Any opportunity I had; I’d try to chat her up. She worked a Saturday job at the Caley on Wentworth Street. I’d meet up with Dougie and hang around Portree – spending

an inordinate amount of time sipping milky coffee in the Caley so I could chat Katie up. She liked it – and I never overstepped the mark. Not until her final year – when I got her address in Braes and sent her love notes. Told her I would, and she said nothing – gave me a cute smile though. She wrote me back and though she didn’t say it, she hinted, big-time – she felt something for me. That was enough man – I was fucking mad about her.

That December I bought her a gold necklace – sending it to her in a Christmas card. A few days before we broke for the holidays – she walked past me in the corridor and gave me this look – heart-stopping. Her hand played with my golden chain – she wore it man. Forget cloud nine – I skipped to cloud ten.

At a New Year’s dance in the Gathering Hall, I saw her, no boyfriend, and I got her on the dance floor. The boyfriend was in Glasgow, visiting family. Fucking yes! We spent the rest of the night flirting, and occasionally she held my hand, briefly – and I don’t mean like a friendly touch. It was more – defi-fucking-nitley. When the band announced the last dance – I was in the bog. Fuck. After a quick hand wash, I ran like a madman – thinking she’d left. She appeared from within a mass of bodies on the dance floor, beckoning me. Like a lost pup, I ran to her. Man, how to put into words the way I felt as we danced. I’d danced plenty of slow dances before – and you could feel they were friend-dances. This was different. We held each other that wee bit closer. She put her head on my shoulder. It was unbelievable. I could feel her heartbeat, I think... It might have been my own. Steering me to the middle of the floor, her eyes never left mine – surrounded by a sea of slow-moving bodies.

Happy New Year, she smiled.

Thought I was about to get a festive peck – it wasn’t. Her lips touched mine, her tongue probed my mouth. Fuck... My tongue reciprocated and for the rest of the dance – we snogged.

Far too soon the band finished, we unlocked our faces, and the lights went up. She whispered in my ear.

Happy New Year, all breathy and fucking sexy like. Man...

Leaving me on the dance floor, she walked away – turned round, and smiled.

See you in school, she said.

Fucking hell man. What the fuck just happened?

For months I survived on that kiss, and when the summer holidays arrived, Katie and her boyfriend prepared for Uni in Aberdeen. On the last day – I spoke to her. Wishing her good luck and all that shite – when really what I wanted to do was grab her and snog the fuck

out of her. She squeezed my hand and walked towards her bus – couldn’t take my eyes off her arse.

Back in the Gathering Hall bar and those beautiful eyes of hers.

Hello, Calum.

I was thunderstruck.

Over a drink, we caught up. She was still with her boyfriend. Fuck. He was at the Monsters of Rock concert at Castle Donnington. She was visiting her folks. We talked, laughed, and danced. We touched like we were lovers – not friends, her body awfully close. She held my hand and I’m not joking – I felt a current of electricity race up my arm and into my chest. Told her if she wanted to hang out with her friends it was ok – she ignored me and stayed by my side. We danced the last dance. Her arms wrapped round my neck – pulling me close, her head on my shoulder. We didn’t kiss.

The music stopped.

What are you doing now? she asked. 

Need to find my lift back to Uig.

I’m staying at my cousin’s out on the Staffin Road. You could come back with me?

Holy fucking shit.

Ok, I answered immediately.

So what if I had to walk back to Uig? I’d done it before and found a lift. For Katie Millar – I’d walk all the way back to the fucking hotel if I had to.

Down by the Royal Hotel I waited – she wanted to say goodnight to her friends. I’d told the Hotel gang to leave without me. The night was warm – I felt comfortable in my Fred Perry. If it’d been sub-fucking-zero – I would’ve felt comfortable. Nothing could stop me from waiting. Drunken bodies staggered past, a lot of singing and shouting going on. A scuffle broke out on Wentworth Street outside Cameron’s – two drunk guys fighting over a drunk gal.

Katie and her friends came down the hill. I tried to look cool and not drunk. I wasn’t steaming – pretty merry though. Her friends said goodnight, strolling off with knowing smiles. She asked if I was tired – of course I wasn’t. She put her arm through mine.

Let’s go to the pier. It’s such a beautiful night. It was.

If you asked what we talked about – I couldn’t tell you. She talked, and I listened to the sounds coming from her mouth. My brain goes foggy when I think about the words we exchanged as we meandered down Quay Street, towards the pier.

It was deserted – the only noise coming from us and the water lapping against the pier legs. Hypnotic sounds of bobbing boats on the bay, a sea song. A scene from a love movie – me and Katie, the stars. We kissed. I opened my eyes to look at her; she was looking at me. Struck me to the core. I was the most important guy in the world. We were the only living couple on the Island, on earth – it was abso-fucking-lutley brilliant.

How long we stood, bodies tight, tongues and lips, I’ve no clue. Could’ve been a minute; could’ve been an hour – it was uniquely beautiful. I’d never experienced such feelings. Was this what love felt like?

I’m staying at my cousin’s, not with them, she smiled, her eyes scintillating.

What? I said momentarily confused in a love fugue.

They’re on holiday in Portugal. Would you like to spend the night?

The words left her mouth and hung in the air, fading to silence as they struggled to find a foothold in my brain. Time stood still – or at least moved in slow motion. My eyes glanced over her shoulder, across the bay – at the Black Rock, a white, pinhole-sized light shone, a dot on a turned-off TV.

It’s weird what you remember.

Shall we go? she said.

Back up the road, through a silent Bosville Terrace we walked – hand in hand until we reached a nice-looking modern villa, its outside light shining a welcome.

This is it.

She was quiet as she lead me upstairs into a bedroom – a corner night light illuminated us. We grabbed at each other like maniacs – fumbling and unzipping. She threw back the duvet with a smiled invite to join her.

We had sex quickly – we’d already had pier foreplay. Was over in thirty seconds, if that – I was too fucking excited.

How long have you thought about doing that? she asked.

Ever since I saw you playing hockey against Fort William.

That long, huh?

She smiled and kissed my cheek saying, We have all night and all day tomorrow.

Snogging her like mad I explored every inch of her body. Won’t tell you how many times we did it. Will tell you I didn’t leave until five the following day and I’m happy to report that each time I got better – lasted longer. We slept, woke up, and made love, fucking magic man.

What is it about time when you’re really enjoying yourself? My time with Katie was over far too quickly. I had to get back to Uig – had work the next day. Five in the evening was a good time to hitch a ride. We dressed and walked to Somerled Square. No hand-holding, you know – just in case.

It was time.

Smiling with sad eyes, she squeezed my fingers, kissed my cheek, and said goodbye. I watched her walk away. She turned and walked back. Thought she’d give me a big goodbye snog – she didn’t. Told me she had the best night ever and would never forget it. I mumbled something similar.

The weather remained warm, and I decided not to thumb a lift until I was outside of Portree. Needed the air and time. I was in love – madly. A car picked me up, dropping me at the top of Earlish – loved that stretch of the road towards Uig.

I was king of the road.

What a fucking weekend!

#3

MY NURSING COURSE AT SOUTH Lothian College of Nursing and Midwifery began in November 1981. The move to my accommodation at the Royal Infirmary was painless – didn’t have much stuff to shift. The nurse’s home was a post-war slab of concrete, dotted with wee windows. A room, cupboard, and a sink, my room. Shared bathrooms. Most of my fellow residents were female.

After twelve weeks in the classroom – we hit the wards and got to work. For the next year, my life was a mixture of surgical and medical wards, late-night boozing, early morning hangovers, and one-night stands. There were months spent in the classroom, too – and more drinking.

The nurse’s home was crawling with lassies enjoying their newfound freedom to the max and we had 999 Emergency Services discos every month in either Cinderella’s, Busters Brown’s, or Coasters. To get in, you had to work in one of the emergency services – free entry and promos on drinks. These club nights were full of firemen and policemen on the hunt for nurses.

A male nurse was a bit of a novelty. This, and the fact I wasn’t what you would call shy, made it easy for me to get off with girls. Not saying I shagged everyone I got off with – damn near did though, and I’d be lying if I said my success was down to my looks or physique. It wasn’t. Making lassies laugh was what I was good at it. I listened too – or at least I gave the impression of listening. Not being horrendous to look at helped. On a handsome score of one to ten, I’d put myself at a six. Add alcohol, and I was up to a seven. Making a girl laugh raised me to an eight or nine. Half joking – I’d tell folk if you made a girl laugh – you were halfway into her pants. Not true. Truth was if you made her laugh, you were two-thirds of the way into her knickers – definitely.

Most of my one-night stands were with girls I didn’t fancy much. A shag was a shag. Sometimes though, I was with girls I really fancied – this was an exception. Most lassies I fancied enough to shag – not enough to go out with. Working with females, going on ward nights out; more often than not, I’d end up in bed with a student or a staff nurse. Many had boyfriends; some were married – all looking for drunken fun. There were, however, a couple of times when either I or the girl wanted more. That’s when it became difficult, complicated. I was a complete cunt to a lot of girls.

I didn’t take pleasure in hurting

them. Fucking hated doing that. Didn’t stop me though. When it was me who wanted more, things got sticky. I was totally incapable of keeping things simple – always wanting what I couldn’t have. It was in my DNA, and it was a real fucking pain.

#4

GOING INTO SECOND YEAR, I met a girl who literally took my breath away. Lisa Calder was a third-year Integrated Degree nursing student from Heriot Watt University and the sluice room in a medical ward at the Royal Infirmary is where I first set eyes on her – elbows deep in bedpans and pish bottles. Being a gentleman, I offered to help. She had pitch-black shoulder-length hair, full lips, olive skin, and serious dark brown eyes. I thought she was Italian or Spanish, or something, but no – she was from Inverness. Fortune shone. I knew her school, Inverness Royal Academy – I’d played rugby and volleyball for Portree High, and we had played the IRA a few times. Full disclosure, I was totally honest with her about my sporting prowess - I was shit but liked to play. She laughed, and from then on we got on like the proverbial house on fire.

At the ward’s Christmas night out, I saw her in her civvies for the first time. Fucking hell man. She was gorgeous. Funny, I’d worked with loads of students and staff nurses who looked completely different out of their uniforms – sometimes I was shocked by how good they looked. No doubt I looked a wee bit different too, although I’m not sure me being out of my white dentist jacket enhanced my looks in anyway. Maybe. Lisa wore a figure-hugging mini dress thing, a white cashmere cardigan, and a pearl necklace. Fuck. I thought pearls were for your Granny. She made them classy and sexy. Couldn’t believe she was my bedpan buddy. Her legs looked super smooth with a hint of athletic muscle, and it was damn near impossible to keep my eyes off her. With the drink flowing and everybody in a festive mood – I made a concerted effort to impress. At the end of the night, four of us shared a taxi to the West End where we dropped off our two work mates. Lisa lived on Morningside Road, and I offered to walk her home.

You mean from the pavement to my front door?

(Smile. Cute. Her)

Sitting in the back of the jostling taxi, she agreed.

I will invite you in for more than coffee, but I won’t sleep with you.

I laughed hard at that and took her hand as we drove up a wintery Lothian Road. True to her word – she invited me in and we canoodled in her kitchen. I left after an hour. We made a date for the next day.

I had a bit of a hangover. We’d arranged to meet in the Canny Man’s pub – near her flat. I was nervous as fuck walking up Bruntsfield Place. Doubting she had feelings for me, even though we had done some serious kissing. Maybe she was drunk, and when she saw me sober she’d have huge pangs of regret. Got there early and looked around to see if she’d arrived, found her sitting in the back room – she was earlier than me and nursing a hangover too. We ordered Becks as a hair of the dog. Oh, and by the way, she looked even more gorgeous in casual attire – casual but classy, is what I told her. She wasn’t sure if I was being serious. I was. Didn’t take long for us to pick up from where we left off. Totally fucking brilliant.

One thing I liked about her was she didn’t wear much make-up. What she did wear looked fucking sexy. Her skin was smooth as fuck – Teflon, man. I loved it when she laughed out loud. She’d tilt her head back and come close, kind of bumping me with her noggin. The warmth of her breath and the smell of her perfume totally fucking killed me. I fell madly in love with her there and then. Another thing that drove me mad with desire, was... And there is no other way to put it – she was pretty posh. I don’t mean that in a bad way; it’s just the truth. She never spoke down to anyone or anything like that. She just had a way about her. Not sure how to explain it. If you met her, you’d know exactly what I mean. All I could think about was A. Sleeping with her and B. Checking out her arse when she went to the toilet. A. Would have to wait; B. Happened after a few more Beck's. She excused herself and I totally checked her out from behind. Wearing stretch jeans with a backside like a peach – not too big, but curvy. I liked what I saw. Oh man, her tits. Not huge or anything. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her tits fucking popped. Her silky white blouse had the top buttons open – and when she came close, I’d catch a glimpse of cleavage. It drove me fucking crazy. We ended up staying in the pub till they threw us out – our hangover well and truly cured by the Becks. On Morningside Road, we shivered, and she invited me up. Again, she told me she wouldn’t be sleeping with me. I laughed and said the same to her.

Her folks owned the flat – and it was a beauty. A top floor, two-bedroom affair with a dining kitchen and a cracking living room with big bay windows looking out to Morningside Road. Tastefully decorated, the centrepiece gas fire pretending to be a real one. The room was a mixture of old and new, but not mismatched. Somebody had thought about it – I suspected it was the girl sitting beside me on the plush Habitat sofa. There was a B&O BeoVision 8800 TV and a BeoCenter 7000 music system in the corner. Underneath, a BeoCord 8800 V2000 video recorder - so fucking modern, man.

Stacked on the floor were hundreds of albums. My new love interest was a music freak.

She opened a bottle of red wine, and I stayed for hours, listening to music, and talking. You know, our past relationships and shit. ELO’s Out of the Blue played. Fucking love that album. I told her I’d never been in a serious relationship before. I left out my one-night-stand adventures – I’m not stupid. Told her about Becca – kept Katie to myself. Lisa had one serious boyfriend from school – lasted up until six months ago. He’d stayed in Inverness whilst she studied here. The long-distance thing proved too much and brought out the worst in him. Jealous as fuck, basically. We talked about losing our virginity. Man, Lisa was easy to talk to. I didn’t feel I had to put on a show or anything. When I told her about Becca’s propensity to shag al fresco, she killed herself laughing – especially when I told her about the time Becca suggested we do it at the end of Uig Pier. There was no hidey spot for shagging. Becca didn’t mind – I did. Regretted not doing it though. Would’ve been a fun memory. Lisa had her own funny, if mortifying, sex story. It wasn’t long after she and her boyfriend had first shagged. He was in her bedroom, and they