Tara la.

Dear Viv,

No longer will I panic and have to add up ridiculous trebles and comical checkouts at darts. No longer will I have an obscure and life-threatening liquor shot thrust at me on a school night. No longer will I be able to play fart-tennis with you in a crowded room (many will celebrate). No longer will I guffaw with you at your awful jokes.

Frankly, I’m fucking hugely annoyed about this.

None of us knew how bad the cancer was and not once did you complain about your lot.

If memory serves me right, the last time I saw you I said I loved you. My best mate told me to tell someone you love them every day. I’m glad I did.

I’ll miss you mate.

Ol