There is more information coming, higgledy, piggledy.

When I come to sort this lot out, I may put it into more accessible order – who knows?  I do as I like as far as I like – this is what I am practising these days.

This is for real, you know.

It’s not tit-for-tat.

It’s not you-do-for-me and then I-do-for-you.

It’s not some posh networking.

Let’s get real, I could say, but I used that word back there.

Let’s tell-it-like-it-is, I could say, but I’ve never understood what that phrase means, and the first time I heard it, a guy who later gave me some huge trouble used it – along with a high-five which – I didn’t know what that was – it was a new-out expression – oh, come on –

I’d say – how-?-can-you-get (lost the word there) – but it was new-out then – one of those cool-things.  ‘Cool’ is all right in its own circumstances, but I – if I’m honest – I’m not so keen on ‘cool’ – very much because I feel the heat, in fact, more often than not –

Here I am.

It is quarter past eight or thereabouts, in the morning – I’m not looking at my watch on this occasion – the exact time no longer always signifies in particular – 

I get sick, sometimes, of using the same old words, don’t you?

But they fit with where I am now – and I suppose, without me having noticed it, this has turned into one of those early-morning (just got up) free-flows of writing, which are useful – they empty your mind, and show you where you are – words splash on to the page – unexpected ones, sometimes – it’s almost like taking a cold bath, except that I never take those.


A splash of hot tears – that is more like it.

Indulgence hardly comes into this.

Necessity is the King – and now I know for definite where I am.


And do I remain ‘cool’ and pretend it hasn’t affected me?

Pearl.  And Dean.

Disappeared as though off the face of the earth.

I’ve got to be fair, I suppose (it’s not raining) – they parted.

That makes it understandable, I tell myself – that they then backed off . . .

I have wondered – could it be this?  Could it be that?

Oh – I have bits and pieces of paper all over the place, with notes to myself on them, attempts at writing this:

‘I haven’t a clue what happened.  What am I supposed to do?  Make up answers for myself?’

‘Try to be understanding?  Try to make up stories for them that let them off?’

‘That they think they can treat me like that, and make excuses for themselves?  That I don’t matter – except that I do?’

The word ‘shoddy’ comes to mind.

Glastonbury has been on this past weekend.

If they are not dead, or hopelessly demented, they will know it has been on – and they must think of us – we went with them to Glastonbury once.

‘No.  I didn’t see much of it on the television – I’m musically inept – I try but I mostly don’t get it.’

I wrote that, but then I did see Liam Gallagher on ‘catch-up’ – and I know I have some problem with music – but you recognise masters of the genre – even I do – I haven’t lost music, I think (I knew it) – it was taken from me somehow – way back, way back . . .

Oh, I’m just slopping this on the page, now – get said what I can – but I’d thought I could make characters of these people – I can’t.

They are who they are, and I am not giving them the benefit of telling their stories for them – I’m not speculating – giving them answers; putting answers into their mouths.  That isn’t fair (it’s not raining).