A cloudy flight back meant not much to see out cabin window so we both read and ate and get drunk, a buzzing altitude drunk and not until about 200 feet about dirty old Gatwick earth do we see roads, roofs and rain but, back up into clouds we go as plane before us hit flock of birds. So we do one radar circuit before making that magical stomach wrenching descent again and back on terra firma there’s a firmer terror as our pace accelerates dramatically, our bodies subconsciously trying to keep us warm, unstifled by sun and our heads in healthy panic again over things to be done.

But we get ourselves one day of rest in mad Gatwick hotel run by the most ludicrous guy ever who has me in fits of laughter through his peculiar mannerisms and purposeful deafness ‘Sorry?’. So we find ourselves some goddamn decent food then walk back through the rainy streets in drunken laughter though we’re both sober now and I’m still dressed in my shorts and shirt as bottle of Greek wine exploded in our suitcase, wetting everything in a perfumed yellow stain.

After beautiful night’s sleep we’re up and at ’em on the road driving down to coast through Brighton and along, sun trying to nudge its way back into our lives and managing quite successfully too, making me wonder if we aren’t blessed by good fortune through positive mental attitude.

Onwards, we end up at Lisa’s new house. Tiny tucked in cottage in peaceful spot south of Chichester not far from before. She’s not split with Mick and seems to be getting her shit together somewhat – off to Greece too next month and then a month in Thailand and talk of her coming to Australia for our wedding – who knows. With some reticence we say goodbye for the last time in a while but glad to see each other this one last time.

Back then, homeward bound – appointments to keep, out for Thai dinner – one last time – with Rosemary and Mia, so the topic of converse is mainly speech therapy but what the..? I’m eating delicious food yet again (not pizza omelette or chickpeas of fucking Greek salads!). Time and space catches us up and we get home and straight to bed and, of course, millions of other things I want to tell and elaborate on but time is short – six days to go! Can you believe that?

It hit me on Saturday night in Greece and I cried all day at my unknown sadness til we methodically worked out my upset was at leaving my mum behind – but feeling better now knowing the world’s a small place – so forgive me this brief entry. I’ll try to elaborate more from memory when I gets closer to print. Remember, Shaun! Remember all tiny detail!

Blur! Mind blur! I told of frenzied activity before but nothing like this morning. It’s getting to Broni too – not coping very well – but I feel reasonably calm – just methodically r

22nd September 1994

That last incompleted sentence typifies our dilemma – no time!