Standing on the eighth step of twelve, of a pair of wooden steps that, to be honest , had seen better Days , I could just reach the cables protruding from the ceiling. A wiser person would have turned off the power. But no, that would have been an inconvenience to those working in the room next door. Best just to crack on and fit the light. The live cable I moved to my right hand , leaving the wires grasped in my left safe to hold.....

Ambling down the corridor , Pete turned left into a dim, sunlit room. He looked up. He looked to his left. His arm reached out towards the switch.......

It was the age of the steps that saved me. Rickety as they were , they couldn't stand the forces of a 13 stone yoof swinging from the Trapeze. They went left whilst I went right, dumping me on the ground with one leg over what remained of the steps. I wasn't sure as to what had just happened. I could hear Pete's voice. I looked up to see his Face. It was one of the two of Pete's faces that I knew. The one with the big grin. 

We did laugh. We laughed even more when one of the Office Managers walked into the room to ask what the burning smell was.

Forty years on I can still see the scars. They are small. Too small perhaps. For it took me another twenty-five years to realize how big an impression Pete had made on my Life. Without him I doubt that I would have finished my Apprenticeship and who knows where or what I would have been. I owed him so much. 

Dexter.