I know we're meeting next week, but I thought that I'd give you something to think about first. I don't know about you but I feel that our conversations have lately been getting a mite trivial. Is it really important to discuss the life and loves of Curly Watts, or the relative merits of breakfast cereals? We've lost our edge of late and it was interesting to see glimpses of the old you on Seder night. What I gathered from that is that you still have your old views, old age hasn't mellowed you. There's still life in the old dog yet. Or is there? Let's find out.

So you're still an atheist, Gerry? Haven't you grown out of that phase yet? Are you still convinced that God doesn't exist? It's funny, but we've never talked deeply about our faiths (atheism is a faith in my book, you need a lot of faith to be so certain in what you don't believe in).

The other day I was looking at a very old scratchy video of my Barmitzvah. Yes, my Barmitzvah, nearly 30 years ago! There I was smiling with a fixed grin among an ocean of slobbering lips, that were kissing and eating with equal abandon. It was eerie to watch, this silent movie of my early pre-acned adolescence. And who else was there? Why you, of course and Jonathan. If you remember, my barmitzvah co-incided with that of David Goldman, Mr Popularity, who took the creme de la creme of the Jewish population of our class, leaving me with you two! As I looked at us in that faded film I thought of myself and the sort of things that concerned me at that age; Latin homework, my home chemistry lab and how the hippy revolution seemed to be passing me by.

Yet, even at that tender age, you had very fixed ideas about the world, didn't you? You were positive that you weren't having a barmitzvah of your own, weren't you? How could you have had such strong feelings? I never questioned them then, as we just looked on you as one of many class eccentrics (remember Fozzy Watkins and his encyclopedic knowledge of bus routes amd timetables?)

But now I am curious, Gerry, and I have a question for you that I've been meaning to ask for ages, but have never had the courage or the opportunity. My memory's not that good, so you'd better excuse any inaccuracies, but I have a distinct recollection of our first year at Bancrupt's. You weren't yourself that year, not that we would know what the real you was at that time, or that we would have cared, being typical selfish 11 year olds! But you weren't the forthright, lippy boy you were to become in the second year, if I remember rightly. Something had happened to you, or your family, that first year and now, with the aid of some exercise books I'd found from that period, I think I know what it was.

You suffered a family bereavement didn't you, Gerry? Was it a brother or sister? It must have been someone close to you to affect you so much for such a long time. Now I didn't know you before this time but I'd reckon that the Gerry Steinberg I've know since the 2nd year at school is not the Gerry Steinberg of earlier years. This bereavement affected you, didn't it, Gerry? It changed your whole view of the world, of life, of God. Even at that early age, it turned you virtually into an evangelist for your views. All this is guesswork, but I feel that we are secure enough in our friendship to discuss such things calmly.

Assuming I've come to the right conclusions, can I now declare that your views on life, your atheism, has its origin in this terrible event? And, if so, if you in some way blame God for this event, or for not doing anything to help, isn't that some sort of acknowledgement of his existence, however malign it may be? Isn't it that you turned your back on him when you thought he'd turned his back on you. And, for your young mind, the best way to do this was to deny his existence, something that you've been doing ever since.

I know this all sounds very glib and may be all completely wrong, but it's just between the two of us. So I'm just going to take it on the chin if I have, but I needed to get this off my mind. And the reason for this is borne out of my sadness for you. Because you've really no idea what you've missed out on, Gerry, all these years. He does exist! It's not just something that's right for me and not for you. He exists for all of us, whether we acknowledge it or not. So please consider what I've said and we can talk it over next week when we meet (assuming you still want to see me!)

See you soon.

Kind regards,

Moishe