What a foolish notion, I think.
Harry has just asked if I’d ever taken mind-altering drugs.
‘No!’ My response is emphatic.
His eyebrow arches, ever so slightly. He doesn’t believe me. Harry’s lips curl into a smile, and he continues, ‘Once,’ he says. ‘I was so out of it, I looked up into the sun and everything was spinning. The sun was like a circle in a spiral.’
‘You’re making that up.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are. Those are lyrics to a Dusty Springfield song.’
I love that guy, but he’s not what you’d call an original thinker.