Letters from the gulag homeichapelago iii

Bobby Friday

I will always have a fond place in my heart for Bobby
Back in the carefree days, when we would wander the city streets till the dawns hours.
Going on mission dumps, opening the ashtrays with his key, or as he put it, "City pays me to collect dumps, this my job". Still amuses me peoples reactions to this, his usual response to those laughing and shouting, "I love dumps, dumps for life" .
My response was usually, "are you going to buy us tobacco?" Fuck off then“.

Diving in dumpsters, another favourite of Bobby's, it was like a treasure hunt, sifting the trash of one, only to be valued again by another. Most of the cutlery and plates in my house came from these mission bins. As he would put it, "bins give me everything I, Bin Laden".
Still amazes me the things we would find, many in perfect working order, one wonders why it was thrown away.

Many times Bobby would find brand new clothes, still with the tag on.
I must make mention of Bobby's generosity, I have witnessed first hand him take his hoody off and give it to someone with no shirt. Also on many occasions, give most of his food bank parcel away to homeless people.

Which brings us to today,
I had just come out of the shops on my state sanctioned outside time, when who should I bump into but Bobby Friday, brother..

I invited him back for coffee, he stayed going on 6 hours, we laughed, sang and reminiscing tears of those times we took for granted.
Just before he left I insisted he take some food, as I know more and more places are closing, refusing to help people.

I know full well most of that food will be given away,
but we help out any little way we can, right? It would be inhuman of me not offer some bread for a hungry brother.