Dave didn't notice, although he was a Beatles fan, that Hey Jude had just gone to number one.
After all, getting busted is something of a distraction no matter how much you like a band.
When the policemen kicked his door down cultural considerations went flying out the window.
I'm a big Beatles fan too. But I didn't clock that Hey Jude was number one either.
I was busy dealing with the distraction of being born.
It would take exactly eighteen years for our paths to cross.
Dave was one of those satellite figures who gradually settled into our crowd. With his advanced years and sharp wit I soon learnt to think twice before opening my mouth.
He bought me a birthday drink. I asked for rum and black although I had no idea what it was. Through the blackcurrant haze I heard Dave say that he'd always been a mess. 'But I could handle it', he said, 'when I was your age because I was pretty. You can put up with anything when you've still got your looks.'
I'm not sure if this was a conscious warning or not, but on this jewel of a morning, with Dave now gone on ahead to the other place where being pretty probably counts for nothing, his words come shining in as clear as the sun.