Scattered

I'm guessing that it was a little windy overnight.

One's used to seeing the wreaths neatly laid around the memorial, of course, but somehow I found this a little more moving. Almost as though the ghosts* of dead soldiers had been ambling about and chatting.

It made me think a little more about the lives that were lost in order to necessitate these flowers and then, naturally, onto those in the Ukraine who are still making sacrifices today. How lucky I have been to be born when and where I was.

But onwards, chums, let's proceed to Floripa, just by the entrance to The Printworks, to have a beer and wait for the Minx, with whom we have a couple of post-gym cocktails, and then move on to La Viña for tapas, and thence to The Gas Lamp to meet up with my old chum, Ric, and sundry offspring (his and mine).

I first met Ric in 1985, when I was, temporarily, the vocalist in his band, The Zane Gray Incident. A few years later, he joined my band, Halo Jones, in London. He was, and remains, the best bassist I've ever met. For a while he was married to my first wife's sister and thus our lives have remained entwined.

The last time I saw him was in Brighton when he wasn't drinking much but this evening was just like old times. It was lovely to see him and, I think, for our kids to see us together.



*I firmly don't believe in ghosts.