Walking Back To Happiness...

Walked to work listening to Ro-Mo again. The second cast this time. (Yes, I know it's boring, but if you want excitement and shagging, feck off to GWAOTM...or Stephen Berlin Johnson...) She's a natural. I saw J. Geils Band supporting the Stones at Wembley. And Black Uhuru. 'Shine i- girl'. Went with The Boy With The Hole in the Heart and two of his Raasay mates, one of whom kept lighting his farts on the train from Willesdon Junction. The busiest place he'd ever been was Skye (pop. - I dunno? 2,000 max??) There he was in the middle of 80,000 people all straining to see Mick 'n' Keef. I bumped into a guy called Zack from Richmond College who always wore a black leather jacket and had one of those crooked James Bond smiles. Wonder what he's doing now? I missed who was singing with Willie Dixon as I crossed the Chertsey Road and the traffic obliterated poor old Ro-Mo's dulcet tones. I couldn't rewind it because it's all on one track. I'll have to listen to it again now.....Nice of The Mo of Ro to stir it up with The Spinster and The Heathster (PHWOAR!!). It would be 'Dirty Love' an' all, what with my...condition.

Didn't pass the Laura Veirs/Alannis Morrisette woman today. I saw her yesterday, in a nice black sweater and just-above-the-knee-skirt number with clumpy brown just-below-the-knee brown boots. No idea what she was wearing. She now looks like Gina McKee as painted by Modigliani trying to look all soft and floaty like Sheryl Crow on that cover of hers where she looks all summery and is playing a Gibson JS200 acoustic guitar. Only without the guitar, obviously. She might have had a tote bag...I find myself wondering if she's a blogger and, if so, would she recognise herself if she ever read this? Probably not. Can anyone see themselves as others do? I've only got three days on this route and then we'll probably never pass one another again. Hope I see her before then. Just for old times sake, like.

Walking through the sewage works, I see the same female blackbird with the broken wing, still hopping about, darting through a gap in the wire fence resembling one of those swing-wing military aircraft. Perhaps the Universe is kind after all. Or is it just prolonging the agony?

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