Friday, 8 February 2019


Leaving a hospital and outside the exit are two men, one black, one white, dressed in smart, shiny grey suits. The black chap, bald head, complete with shades, gets on a motorbike. My friend Enn Bee and I get on a bus, where I sit on my own behind the very same black guy (?). He has dropped a card that I pick up. It says "to Dad, happy birthday!" inside. I think does this make him the father, or is it to his father? I slip the card into the gap between the seats. When the bus stops I get up and follow him off. He is now a large white woman, with a sturdy man-ish build. I offer her/him the card. Eventually, after some prompting, he takes it from me. In the meantime my own ticket has blown out of my hand and fluttered under the bus. I start to call him a bastard for this. I ask Enn Bee if I need my ticket to further our journey and he says yes. Thankfully it has blown out a little from under the bus, allowing me to collect it. Enn starts to run, setting off to catch the next bus-

We are in London, running through a vast array of gap-sites, the ground covered in red stones. Enn is ahead, but soon slows up considerably, his smoker's lungs getting the better of him. I'm now running very fast, followed closely by two girls who sing John Phillips' 'Holland Tunnel', particularly the "you know the lollipop you suckin" line, in a sort of confused unison with me-

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