I've copied this from an email to a friend, because I couldn't write it all out again. I should have been in bed an hour ago.
"Apparently on Friday night it was noticed that during "Don't Stop Me Now!" I cried like a girl. Yeah yeah, I got over it and busted some phat moves (see my modern spelling!) but I did. Stacy is a bouncer at Heights where we went, and was working Saturday night. She got asked if I was ok by a friend of hers who was working Friday night. Stacy explained about the accident, the song, the whole enchilada to her, and to her boyfriend, who is also a bouncer at Heights. Turns out 2+2=4.
Stacy's mates boyfriend (still with me?) is a First Responder. Rich was his first fatality. He was desperately trying to tell Stacey that he did everything he could for Rich, that he tried everything he knew, and he couldn't save him. Now, to you and me, who know the details, this is not news. Nothing short of divine rewinding of the whole morning could have saved Rich, and that just hasn't happened. Apparently he's up and down all over the place, not sleeping and so on, always convinced he could have done *something* more and Rich would have been ok.
So I've suggested that she tell Stacey to tell her friend to tell her boyfriend that a) he's welcome to come round and see me and I'll tell him about the accident and that there was nothing he could do from about the time Rich left the bike, and b) see if he can make it to the inquest - it's a public event - and hear the nurses statement for himself."
Weird end to the day.
I didn't email the She-Ex today. I would have found it hard to phrase things properly, and I don't want to antagonise her at the moment. I don't need it. I just need to work a few things out.