The day Diana died

I was a complete mess the night before if I'm honest.

And if I'm not being honest, it's not like you're going to know, is it?

Stupid phrase. But I was, I'd been in the Cobweb and we had done it properly that night. Absolutely fucked. Couldn't see properly walking back home. So I thought I'd dreamt it. I was still up when the news broke and when I first saw pictures of that car going into the tunnel, all those bikes behind it, but I was that pissed about it that I didn't really realise what was happening.

I passed out in the living room. On my side. Drooling in front of the television.

The next morning my head hurt like hell, which was unsurprising. A fiercely strong sun that morning, utterly pitiless. The news was still on, the same footage, the car, the bikes. Shouted up the stairs to my brother that she'd died. He responded with a belch. Bit disrespectful, but fair enough, it's not like we knew her.

Well, not really. I had met her once, as it happens. She'd come to open the new home ec block at my school and I'd got in trouble for putting on a ridiculous Irish accent and loudly asking where "the package" was. One of her security detail half drew his gun, smiled at me and told me to stop being a cunt.

That was definitely enough to put me back on my arse, I can tell you. I'd been picked out to help demonstrate what with being being one of the less gormless pupils, but even then I couldn't help but roll my eyes when she asked me what I was doing. Cooking, fairly obviously, I replied. She smiled at me, but there wasn't any humour in it. The bloke who'd shown me his gun winked as he walked past.

I was due to meet a girl I'd been seeing later that day. She was coming down to stay for a few days while my parents were away and I was going to meet her at the train station. It was one of those deals where you both think you're being really grown up by fucking but not being together. Yes, I did use to think like that back then, no, I'm not proud of it. Come to think of it, I never asked her if that was how she saw it. It's a bit too late to now, that'd just be weird.

"Hi, yeah it's me. Yeah. look, we had a bit of a thing back in '97 and I was just wondering if oh okay bye then"

Tragic

And I was due to head out to meet her, but the constant replays of the car heading into the tunnel were hypnotic and this, coupled with the fact that all radio stations were only playing sombre music (we joked about how soothing it was) was almost enough to put me to sleep. It was my brother that saved me, reminded me that if I didn't get a shift on I'd miss her. He made an obscene gesture which I laughed along with, but mostly to keep the peace. My head was banging too much for an argument.

I got there in time, but all I could think of, the whole way there, the whole way back, and the whole time we were breathlessly fucking within minutes of getting back to the house and she was even more beautiful than I remembered and what were we thinking with this mates thing was that car, going into that tunnel, the motorbikes buzzing in after it and I wished, I wished the one time I met her that I hadn't been such a prick, and no, the irony is not lost on me, thanks.