In the dock of life's bay where the sun never sets and endless excursions into dialogue provoke, and stimulate, thoughts are constantly updated. There's not a decade without change and entering into a new one there are more opportunities than imagined as a ragged arsed bastard child living in two rooms in post war Edge Hill, Liverpool. Praise be the Sixties! Mobility, optimism, front row seats to a world cultural change and risk be a lady tonight.
I've been a jeweller, warehouse manager, builder, investigating agent. Worked in prisons with lifers, taught literacy and Access to university courses to adults, trained teachers, attended fascinating courses, published for the European Union, lived in France and had a bloody wonderful life. Heartaches too: finding father's home in Zimbabwe to discover he'd died three months earlier. Had therapy with Dr. Art Janov that saved my life. Yes, Lennon's song 'Mother', really does say it all.
I love cycling, walking the hills and solitude on rain soaked and wind lashed days. Summer naked on a French beach, strolling city streets at night, cafes and people gazing, chatting endlessly anbout all and sundry. Sometimes even politics and the curses of the age. Lived in squats, council flats, bed sits, listed Queen Anne houses, poor parts of thew city, exclusive streets and castles, in tents and hostels and still not settled. Mixed with the rich, poor the titled and grand: billionaires, paupers, politicians and factory workers.
I’m a multi-faceted hologram from another dimension blessed with insight and powers of prediction. My interests are meditation, communing with ancestral spirits, and walking through mist searching displaced souls. Other worldly and out of body experiences fascinate me, as does futurology, maximising potential, understanding how emotional pain determines our life, and individual hinterlands. Searching for lost souls in the Scottish mist. Communing with the departed over a peat fire whilst drinking Islay whisky. Recovering canabis abuser in therapy after several years of hallucinations. Awaiting the visitor outside my blackhouse door to enter.
I love to die peacefully as a grandfather with Mozart's Requiem playing. Before that, however, I intend to spend many, many, more summers in France cycling during the day and drinking excellent wine in the evening reflecting the beauty and mystery of life. Sitting outside a pavement cafe watching life drift past as the sun sets, either in a city or in the depths of the countryside.
Is it possible to live without the soulful insights and inspiration of J S Bach? Purcell is a close second, and how can one pass a week without the vespers of Rachmaninov? When I pass to the other world please play me Pergolesi's Stabat Mater. I also love listening to Martha Argarich.
