There was a kid in my year in high school named Jimmy Tremarelli. We were in a couple of the same classes, and also had occasion to pass each other in the hall between bells about three times a day. Whenever we did Jimmy would nod and say, “Dr Dowling”, and I would say, “Dr Tremarelli”. And then we’d carry on in opposite directions.
Over the years the pretence became gradually more elaborate. Sometimes Jim would steal up alongside me at the end of class, cupping my elbow in the palm of his hand.
