Read Friends Like These: My Worldwide Quest to Find My Best Childhood Friends, Knock on Their Doors, and Ask Them to Come Out and Play for Free Online

all the way out in Borehamwood…”
    I had waved these concerns away, like a magnanimous king telling a peasant he could keep an onion.
    “… and I’d have to work at weekends, and late nights, too. They’re already talking about me staying in a hotel for a lot of
     it…”
    I’d tried to wave these concerns away, too, but the wave kind of stopped midway.
    “Really?” I’d said. “Well, that’s…”
    “I don’t
have
to take it, baby… especially as we’ve just moved, and with Wag and Ian being away…”
    “Don’t you worry about Wag and Ian being away. They are both men, following their dreams. They will be back when it all goes
     wrong.”
    Lizzie had laughed.
    “But I worry about you. You’re so tight with those two.”
    “I have other friends.”
    “Yes, but they’re mainly children you play online at Xbox.”
    “Some of them are very mature.”
    “Who did I hear you calling a pipsqueak last night?”
    “The Bald Assassin. And I called him a nitwit. He always creeps up on me and hits me in the back of the head on Call of Duty.
     Anyway, I’ll be fine—I’ll just call someone and hang out.”
    “Yeah, you could always call
someone,
but Wag and Ian, well… they
understand
you.”
    “What’s not to understand? I am very understandable.”
    “I just mean, they
get
you.”
    “
You
get me.”
    “But I’m going to be away so much…”
    “I’ll be fine. I’m nearly
thirty.
”
    “That’s what I worry about.”
    “I’m not going to be lonely. I’ve got Sky+, an Xbox and broadband.”
    “Nerd. There’s always Friends Reunited…”
    I’d pulled a face which said “the cheek!” and we’d laughed.
    “Look,” she’d said, “I’ll only take the job if—”
    “Lizzie. You
have
to take the job. I will be personally offended if you do
not
take the job.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    I’d smiled the smile of a confident and in-control late twenty-something.
    But inside, I was thinking,
Oh, bollocks
…
    Lizzie started work on the new job almost immediately. A PR buzz was already starting around the new season. Who were the
     new contestants? What would happen to them? How would things change? I smiled as I sat on the sofa, reading the excitement
     in the
Mirror,
and felt proud that my missus was doing so well. She was involved in something
intriguing.
And
I
was, too. After all, in about twenty minutes,
Street Crime UK
would be on, and there was time to make a toasted sandwich before that.
    But then the bell rang. And I remembered. It was eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning. And at eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning,
     I would succumb to the inevitable, and become a man.
    If this was going to happen, it was going to happen
on my terms.
It was time to seize the day.
    “Mr. Wallace?”
    “Yes?” I said, proudly, opening the door.
    “I’m Paul—you called me about your guttering?”
    “Come in!” I said.
    So this was it. This was the moment I became a
boss!
I’d chosen Paul out of the Yellow Pages because his advert had said:
    To be or not to be!—well, you did ask for a quote!!!
    I’ll be honest. Now that I’ve written it down, it seems to have lost a fair amount of its humor. But at the time I remember
     thinking it was good that he had displayed a sense of fun about his work, as guttering can be a very serious business. People
     have died just thinking about it.
    “Are you that bloke off the telly?” said Paul, and I said yes and smiled. I’d thought perhaps he was going to say he liked
     my stuff, but he just scowled at me and said, “Right.”
    “The guttering’s round here,” I said, hoping my intricate knowledge of where the guttering was would impress him. “It’s on
     the outside of the house.”
    “Right—let’s have a look at her.”
    Shit. I should have referred to the guttering as female. Why did I call it “it”? Why didn’t I call her “her”? I was failing
     already.
    “Yep,” I said, pointing at it. “That’s her. That’s… our