It was a classic law school setting: terraced curved rows with seating for a hundred and fifty “first years,” and all facing down toward a centered pulpit where the Prof would conduct his socratic lecture. All eyes watched pensively as the caricature entered the room: long disheveled gray hair, tattered and wrinkled un-matching suit jacket and slacks, poorly knotted tie, sneakers, and carrying a well read casebook with dozens of yellow stickies hanging out in disarray. He did not really limp, but kind of shuffled his way to the podium, due probably to the overweight burden on his feet. The room silenced as he set down his book and looked at the clock.
He then turned to the class and with an oratorical expression exclaimed, “It is 10am, and this is room #301. It must be Property.” He paused, and then said, “Of course, in the Northwest, the only place you can truly have proper tea is between 2 and 4pm at the Empress Hotel in Victoria.”
There were only scattered chuckles, but for me, it was vintage Nock, a reminder of why I loved this friend so much. I shall miss him greatly.