Conflicted. In flux. Zen one minute and anxious and depressed the next. Flying from being positive and overwhelming chirpy to diving into despair, feeling morose and lost.
Patience. Fuck patience. Patience is for the young. (Actually it isn’t but they have longer left to sit and wait. I don’t. ) My time’s running out and I’m not hanging about waiting for everyone else to get their shit together. The bus just came and I’m already on it.
Dying is pretty fucking ugly to witness. Twice. Watching a parent die is distressing in the extreme. But i figure there must be a good reason that I haven’t quite worked out yet, why i had to do it twice already. It’s an ongoing lesson clearly. Constructively, before I was old enough to understand, my Dad would always say “i don’t care what you do as long as you love it. If you desperately want to be a bin-man, that’s fine with me.“ Refuse management and band management do have parallels I guess but I think I chose the right one.
I’m not looking. I found my perfect partner 7 years ago. So you’ll have to keep guessing.
When I was younger and on the dark side I ate meat. Identical twins the size of The Rock had 2 burger vans side by side on the corner of Worcester Avenue by White Hart Lane and the van on the right served the best quarter pounder with cheese I’ve ever tasted. My son Will and I ate there every weekend for over 10 years. The quality never waned.
Photo of my Mum and Dad.
My dreams are always about Cocteau Twins. Believe me I wish they weren’t.
John Lydon really isn’t the coolest human being on the planet. He is a massive arse.
Nilüfer Yanya. My gut tells me it would be special. I always listen to my gut.
There’s no need for an apology now. She passed away in March.