I’m sad to have to admit having overlooked Peter’s birthday a couple days ago. A while back, you see, I established birthdays for him and Charles so I could have a look at their astrological charts and synastry. Yes, I’m that kind of a nerd.
You can see how it was love at first sight, and also how career is a stumbling block for them. Communication, too, is moderately tricky.
It’s a fun little exercise and a nice piece of additional detail to play with. Charles passed away some years ago (he was older by a few years, after all), but I have a feeling Peter is hanging on by his fingernails . . . Something of a recluse now, one of those pensioners who perpetually wears a cardigan . . . I picture him in a house made cavelike by wood paneling, lined with many bookshelves, a number of knitted afghans strewn about, and one ugly, threadbare armchair. Peter sits there and reads and sips tea. He’s slow but sharp as ever, isn’t interested in things like the Internet, telly works just fine for him, thank you.
That’s if you ever wondered what happened to them. And if you don’t even know who they are, read the novel.