International Anthony Burgess Foundation and then made our way through the back streets of Manchester, past the BBC. Such a beautiful day, yet so few people around.
Nancy had said to me: 'So what do you do when you are with him? Play it cool?'
'No, I don't play it cool. I play it cantankerous.'
She laughed. 'I can see how that works.'
I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets as we passed the University gardens, then made our way through traffic, up the escalator, and into Piccadilly train station.
Standing beneath the departure board I thought, 'I could just throw myself on the floor, grab onto Toga's trouser leg and wail. I could lie on my back on the concourse amongst the throngs of people, look up, and scream.'
'Platform 5,' I said. 'You've got seven minutes.'
'Have you got a pound I could borrow for a bottle of water?'
I rummaged through old tissues and ragged receipts, 'Here.'
We walked down the platform together, a familiar dread was trying to work its way back to me.
'It's a long way to my train, you're going to have to walk all the way back,' he smiled.
We stopped by carriage E. I hooked my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Don't cry in his ear, I thought. That would be really silly.
'Safe journey,' I said. Then I waved him goodbye, and hurried off to meet Zelda for coffee.