Speaking To Buddha

I must have been fuelled by the last dregs of the Isle of Jura last night, as I for once grasped the bull by its horns and rang the number listed in the texts on Andrew's SIM by 'Buddha'. It was quite late - half nine I think - and I was also fuelled by another useless and abortive discussion with Andrew about the situation. I think my boozed-up brain decided I'd better stop being a coward and attend to the matter via an alternative direction. I wasn't drunk by any stretch of the imagination; just tipsy enough to have acquired a modicum of courage, supplied by The Netherlands.

So I rang from the house phone as we're x-directory and stuff meaning (I think) my the number would come up as "Private" or something. Four rings and it was answered, an unmistakably adult voice immediately sounding a little puzzled.

All my courage instantly evaporated and I came within a flea's whisker of putting the phone down there and then. I usually rehearse every phone call I make but to this one I'd come perfectly unprepared. A second, less urgent hello finally prompted me into action.

I coughed a little then asked if this was Mr Aldridge.

The voice confirmed that this was the case, and then went on to enquire as to who was calling.

So, Buddha revealed. But why Buddha? From what I remembered of Mr Aldridge during parent-teacher conferences his appearance could be described as un-Buddha-like as possible, being neither bald nor fat. I couldn't remember that much else about him, to be honest, except that he struck me as dressing a little too old for someone evidently still in their twenties. I filed the Buddha mystery away for future perusal.

I tortured my head in deciding what to say next, as I wasn't dealing with this at all well. Whenever I become unnerved my feet heat up - does this happen to anyone else? I began to sing that Kings of Leon song:

Whooooooooooooahhhhhh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My socks are on fire-yer…

I eventually remembered that I'd learnt to talk at the usual, early age, and forced some words out. I introduced myself calmly, as Andrew T's father.

This generated a burst of static, which was obviously Mr Aldridge expelling a sharp breath. I wondered then how he was going to play it: Deceit? Honesty? Denial? 4-4-2 with Gareth Barry in the holding role?

In the end, he just said: Yes?

Which didn't really tell me anything.

So I said that I'd very much like to know why I find your mobile number in my son's phone. This was not strictly true, of course, but it was a question that I was quite eager to know the answer to. When I heard nothing but hesitation, I added: Because I don't really think it's appropriate for your phone number to be in my son's phone, and you probably know why I feel that way.

More hesitation. I was expecting the line to go dead at any moment.

But eventually he spoke: Okay, he said. This is going to be a bit difficult, isn't it?

This I found quite funny. So I told him I don't think it's going to be difficult for me, but how difficult it is going to be for you depends on what kind of relationship you have with my son.

More pausing.

He said: What exactly do mean, "relationship" ? What has Andrew been telling you?

I sensed I was beginning to get the upper hand, so I said Andrew's not really told me much, which I why I'm phoning you. I've heard things from other sources, but you'll be thankful to hear I'm a reasonable man and I haven't jumped to any conclusions so I'll not be beating down your door with a pitchfork and a burning torch. Not yet, anyway. Am at least giving you a chance to explain yourself before I do.

Mr Aldridge must have switched on his teacher-mode as he began to speak in a very official voice. He assured me there was no relationship between him and Andrew beyond that of a totally appropriate one between a teacher and a pupil. I asked for his reasoning behind that, as Andrew was not currently his pupil and had not been for three years. Again came one of those telling pauses.

So he said: I'll be honest and to the point with you Mr [BrynT]. I enjoyed having Andrew as a pupil and we had a very good relationship. He came to me out of the blue a couple of weeks again and asked for a chat. So we chatted. And we've had a few further chats. And that's how far as it goes.

He sounded sincere. I asked him what they chatted about but - after yet, yet, yet another pause, Mr Aldridge said he didn't think telling me would be fair on Andrew. I said I feel I had a right to know.

Mr Aldridge said he would meet with me. I offered my home, but he declined, and wouldn't consider anywhere on campus, nor at his home. He insisted on somewhere public and neutral for some reason, so I suggested a local family-themed pub in town. He even hesitated at that, asking if I thought that appropriate, but eventually agreed on Sunday, at 2pm.

So we shall see.

Ructions as breakfast this morning. Gabriel asked a still-stomping Andrew whether he was taking an apple for the teacher, or may be even a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers - so obviously Lukas has blabbed. Andrew seized Gabriel around the neck but Gabe easily broke the hold and pushed Andrew away. I screamed for order before the floor became littered with Co-co Pops.

Weather-permitting (on many counts) I have a lovely drive up to Manchester Airport tonight to pick up Colin. I might phone him and request he checks himself into a hotel and I'll go and fetch him tomorrow as I really don't fancy the trip. I'm keeping tabs on the web-site, but at the moment all is bang on schedule. Unfortunately.