One day when I was seventeen years old, shortly after Howard and I had started going out to pubs and parties together, the beginning of what was to be a strong friendship, we were walking home through the streets of a nearby village, Godmanchester, from some party or other as dawn was breaking. At the end of the empty street was an empty telephone box whose telephone began to ring.
I answered it and it was a friend who had dialled a wrong number. Sadly, today, neither Howard nor I can remember exactly who it was although I do remember that it was a girl who was romantically involved with one or other of us.
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