Every night when I sit across the room from him, eyes glued to the TV set trying to avoid the endless background information he has on every show on the BBC, the thought never fails to cross my mind that whoever runs the Universe has a queer sense of humour. In a way our lives are akin – I have been given a second chance to restart my life after a mid-life crisis of sorts; he has been given a second chance with a heart transplant…

He….is white, in his early sixties, and has a demeanour mellowed by a near death experience. We talk – bitch in resonance about life – high taxes, the loss of jobs, yobs, people on benefits, work and all that….. but he never fails to end the day with a phone call….. Each day, he calls his wife, he calls his twin girls and they laugh and chat about the day….

Tonight he stopped suddenly, pointed his index finger at me and said….. you know when push comes to shove…what is important is not the bank or work… its the people in your life…

I wish I had an answer to the contrary… Gladly, I don’t!