Wednesday, 27 July 2016

This aint on party, this aint no disco, this aint no foolin' around



So, I’m sitting at the bar of the CafĂ© Royal with a pint of Guinness , half a dozen oysters, and a Colin Parsons Scotsman crossword. During the course of the morning I have brief or extended conversation with a a variety of teachers, journalists, petty criminals, and the occasional serious criminal. Around 2.30 I step outside into the watery Edinburgh sunshine, smell the breweries and ……”oh,  that magic feeling – nowhere to go “

But that was then – this is now. Memories tend to flood back when your nurse practitioner has filled in a form, in writing, in black and white, officially, saying that you are not expected to live for more than 6 months. Max. Everything is in hand. Will, kids briefed, blue badge , wheelchair, non-funeral arranged. I believe Mrs. OM has also booked her cruise for month 7. They even offered to show me round the hospice, but I told them to fuck off –  one has to maintain  one’s standards.

Will this be the last post ?  Exciting, isn’t it.

Abraxas was a good album that stood the test of time for me