Whilst working in Luxembourg, I promised a Glaswegian colleague that, as I toured new cities, I’d buy fridge magnets for him to give his mother. I believe he was benign; I’d have reconsidered had he mentioned a pacemaker, or weak floorboards & nasty persons downstairs.
I consistently promised, but consistently reneged. I remembered once, at Watford Gap. I imagined his mother’s reaction. “Oh.” She’d say, “Nice”. She’d borrow the neighbour’s Afghan Hound. “It must have got caught in Pong’s hair”, she'd breathe.
RIP Ivor Cutler