I went from being as happy as Larry to as sad as a crutchless gusset and felt as if I'd just been well and truly sauce panned.

“So what, she might have a brother? Phone back now why don't ya?” said Finbar who I could see was trying not to laugh although I wasn't seeing the funny side of anything.

To tell the truth if he hadn't had been there I would have probably gone into the bedroom and sulked but decided if there was bad news to be had I'd rather hear it sooner than later so phoned back there and then.

Again a man's voice said “hello.”

“Can I speak to Aria please?”

“She's not here.”

“Could you tell her Jack phoned please?”

“OK.”

And that was it. The phone went down and there was me left listening to the tone.

“Don't worry, she'll phone back” said Finbar but I wasn't exactly convinced and did my best to hide the hump that was growing at a rate of knots inside of me. Feeling I'd better do something useful to calm myself I suggested we go and check out some record shops but Finbar declined.

“Sorry, got a job interview tomorrow so I'll have to iron a shirt and prepare what will undoubtedly be superb reposts to their searching questions” he said.

“A job!” What's it for?

“In a bank. They've got an accelerated promotion scheme for graduates and I've been short listed.”

“Must have been very short on candidates if you made the list but what are you doing applying for a job in a bank?” I mean, would I be correct in saying that you've spent the best part of the last three years demonizing all those in suites and especially, how did you put it again, the evil that is fractional reserve banking?”

“Yeah but I'm skint” said Finbar with a smile and a glint in his eye.

“I can help you prepare if you like. You know, like I interview you to get the nerves under control.”

“No you're alright Jack. I'd end up making Zillly look like Hercules by the time you'd have finished with me so I'll do it on my own thank you very much.”

“Well don't say I didn't offer. Anyway, if you change your mind you know my doors always open for you.”

I got my jacket and made my way downstairs to get the tube into the West End but couldn't help thinking about Aria. Every five yards my mood would swing from on the one hand being convinced that she fancied me to the other of thinking she was shacked up with a boyfriend.

By the time I got to Golders Green tube station which was about ten minutes walk from the flat down the Finchley Road I'd stuck on the thought that she had a boyfriend and no matter how much I tried to twist was getting humpier than Quasimodo with hyperkyphosis.

On the platform waiting for the train I kept telling myself it didn't matter as I didn't really know her and anyway being Italian she'd probably end up going back home to Rome. Glad the train came quick as I would have ended up getting really annoyed with myself.

Hated making huge mountains of things smaller than mole hills and crossing bridges which weren't even in sight but couldn't help it. Obsessive I suppose.

The train was almost empty so I sat down and as the train went into the tunnel I could see my reflection in the window and was aghast to see that my soul patch which I'd just started to grow looked like it had gone on holiday to the end of my bottom lip and not in the middle where I thought I'd planted it with lunar landing like precision.

I started moving back and forth towards the window occasionally twisting my head to see if the tuft was actually skew-whiff or if it was the effect of the glass.

After a few minutes of this I put it down to the glass and sitting back in the seat realized that an elderly woman was looking at me like I was mental. As I glanced in her direction she immediately looked at the floor.

One of the first things I noticed when I moved down to London was that people avoid eye contact at all costs and as for asking directions forget it. Just the merest pucker of the lips to say “excuse me please” let alone actually saying something and people make for the hills.

Trying to make her feel at ease I said “it's my soul patch, it´s a bit skew-whiff” but she ignored me and kept looking at the floor.

Thinking she might have had trouble with my vernacular I decided to put it another way.

“My mouche is kaput!”

Without a word she pulled herself up rather gingerly using the support pole and holding onto everything nailed down made her way to the door like she knew the train was about to enter Hampstead station. Sure enough within a few seconds of her readying herself to alight the train pulled into the station. When it had come to a full stop and the doors had opened she turned towards me and said

“young man” and then after pausing for what seemed like long enough to cook a fair sized turkey to make sure she had my complete attention continued with ”unnecessary facial hair at the best of times looks shit but your soul patch is by far and away the shittiest I have ever had the misfortune of setting my eyes upon!” and then shuffled off the train.

I was stunned at first but then burst out laughing. Older people, particularly those who look like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths using profanities always cracked me up but this lady had not only taken the biscuit but the whole barrel along with the china tea set.

As she left the train a young guy entered with a big yellow disc stuck to his coat lapel with something written on it. There was only the two of us in the carriage and he sat down in the same row of seats as me but about four seats away. As the train pulled away from Hampstead he moved one seat in my direction and then after a couple of seconds moved again and then again until he was right next to me.

I thought to myself “here we go” and as sure as night follows day up he piped.

“Hello, my name's Winston.”

I looked down at his yellow disc and saw the words “Jesus saves” written on it.

“Hello Winston, my name's Jesus” I said.

A puzzled look spread across his face and moving his head closer to mine like he was inspecting me said

“Are you Spanish?”

“No, I am Jesus and I forgive you Winston.”

This seemed to really flummox him as he forgot he'd told me his name and said

“How do you know my name?”

“Because I am Jesus Winston and I forgive you.”

“Forgive me for what Jesus?”

“You know Winston and you know that I know because I am Jesus but do not be afraid for I forgive you” I said speaking as slowly and deliberately as I could.

He went very quiet but kept looking at me.

I felt a bit of a bastard but I don't know about you but I´ve been driven mad so many times by everything from religious groups to ONGs trying to get me to sign up to for a monthly standing order that I thought I'd try something different from the inevitable “will you fuck off ......now!” when all attempts at politely requesting they leave me alone failed so I thought I'd try another tack.

“Are you really Jesus?” he said.

“You know who I am Winston.”

“I know you're Jesus but are you...like.. the Jesus?”

“Why do you have doubts Winston? Haven't I told you I forgive you.”

“But you haven't told me for what.”

“You know what you have done Winston” I said knowing that everyone's done something that they're ashamed of and was just getting him at it.

“Winston, it's time to leave. Remember never ask for or take money” looking him directly in the eyes and with that he got up and went to the door swiveling his head back to glance back at me as he went. As the doors opened he turned full on to me and said “I love you Jesus” and then got off the train.

Don't know if he knew what I was up to and getting his own back but he said it so sincerely that I felt a pang of guilt for a few moments. Didn't last long though as Aria came rushing back into my mind and wasn't about to leave anytime soon.

I got off at Tottenham Court Road and did my usual trick of choosing the exit that would leave me absolutely nowhere near I wanted to be. I'd got off there more than once before but nothing looked remotely like I remembered.

Found myself in Soho Square and recognising nothing decided to take the next narrow street I came across and looking up saw the sign Frith Street on the wall so made my way down it looking like Basil Bloodhound but in my case sniffing out vinyl rather than marrow bone jelly.

When I got to Old Compton Street I paused, looking left and right in a vain attempt to get my bearings. I was about to give up and phone Vinny when I heard someone shouting behind me.

“Yack, Yack!”

I turned around and there in front of me was Aria looking like a heavenly vision.

She rushed towards me, embraced me and kissed me on the cheek.

I was young, I was happy. Very, very happy!