For Denis….

Denis Moran turned up in our kitchen one day. My sister Caroline had brought him home from school. He was about fourteen and had just arrived from Ireland. Denis was very camp, very charming and he practically lived at our house. As he got older, he developed that winning combination of campness and apparent heterosexuality that girls adored. Unlike other blokes who shunned the dance floor when Abba came on, Denis would be right in the middle, grooving exuberantly to Dancing Queen. I attended his first wedding to a woman and his second, many years later, to a man. They tied the knot in London because gay marriage was not lawful in Ireland. But from today, it will be. Denis will be ecstatic that his native land has finally caught up with him. And I know he’ll celebrate this the way he celebrates everything – with a bit of disco dancing.