Death, the life story

By Alifestory

Not Billy

When I first arrived in Manchester, I lived in a shared house with two gay men.  One, the owner, Dennis, was a likeable oddball - with interesting habits.  His bedroom was stacked high with newspapers with a single pathway left clear for him to reach the bed.  I only knew this because I sneaked a look when he was out doing his regular late night shopping on a Thursday evening where he invariably bought expensive coffee (“Smell it,” he’d say, shoving it under my nose.  “It’s coffee,” I’d say, smiling. He did the same routine with fresh baked bread.  “It’s not ordinary bread, it’s a quality product.”  Over the week it would grow mouldy.)  I never socialised with Dennis - he kept very odd hours, and wasn’t a party animal.  He looked like a member of the Sylvanian Family. We rubbed along together and fell out only once when he disapproved of me putting one of his glass tumblers over a cockroach in the kitchen.  I thought this a reasonable response. 

The other man was Little Chris - a lovely gay man who hailed from Brighton and struggled with his weight: ballooning and dieting by turns.  I have an abiding memory of Chris walking up and down the living room, with the phone extension trailing behind him, speaking.  Chris loved to talk.  He absolutely loved to talk.  He also loved comics and Dungeons and Dragons, things that still remain something of a mystery to me.  In a very short time, he had surrounded himself with a group of lovely friends.  Those I can remember were Alan, Norman, Big Chris and Billy. I never met Big Chris, but I did get to meet the rest on numerous memorable occasions. 

The most memorable was in Dennis’ house (although Dennis was not present - he was the antithesis of Billy) playing Host House to Murder.  This was the first time I met Billy.  I’d heard about him, and his madness from Little Chris, and although this had gone some way to prepare me, the evening surpassed my expectations.  

Host House to Murder is a box set game that is the basis for a murder mystery party, each person taking on a designated role and, we played that night.  The set up of the game is that everyone can be guilty through each of the rounds, and the participants’ role is to try to work out whodunnit it? by asking sharp, insightful, thoughtful questions. 

Not Billy. 

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