I go about my daily routine, pittering and pattering about the premises and seeing the itinerary through, when I look at the thing and do a double-take. It stirs the memory a mite; like an old friend you meet over olives and cocktails many years later and can’t place. I go over to the thingamajig and give it a touch- yup, definitely familiar. Every crest and trough tells happy and sad stories, every bump and blemish knowingly nods at you.
“Nicks,” it says, acknowledging my presence.
“Laptop keyboard,” I say solemnly, offering rebuttal acknowledgment.
It has been over a month since I flushed anything down the drain that passes as my section on this website, and I duly apologizing for returning. But the umbilical cord connecting me and the brave red-and-white knights of North London has been pulling with palpable force over the past few wee...