In April 2009 I was in Lichfield working at a Health Centre, doing some painting. When I had finished and before coming home I called to see a friend of mine, M.H. We have been friends for 40 years. M.H. makes false teeth in his Dental workshop. Whilst he was working I was sitting next to him and we were talking.
I mentioned a friend of ours P, and I asked M how is he? M replied that P and his wife were having a rough patch with one of their two sons. I asked why and M told me that one of the lads had come out, i.e. he’s gay. Straight away, without thinking, I said to M, “could be worse, he could be a paedophile.” M looked at me with tears in his eyes and said words to the effect, what are you trying to tell me? In tears I explained what had happened to me when I was 11. M told me that I should go to the police and that he would go with me. I said no, James Robinson is gone out of my life, he’s dead and rotting in hell.
Little did M or I realize, the boot was about to be delivered. I thanked M, gave him a hug and left for K’s. A couple of days later I returned to Ireland.