Cry for control

Lee and I sold the large brass vase from the church to an antique shop in the centre of Watermouth. We refused an offer of £30, saying we’d been offered £50, but as we walked away, one of the dealer’s assistants came running up to us and said he’d have it for £40, which we took. There's even a piano in the Church and we thought of borrowing a van and going and retrieving that.

After this, we met Alex near Attlee Square and went for a coffee with him at a nearby Wimpy. He’s been staying with his parents in Berlin over Christmas; they work and live over there. He came round to 44A afterwards to see our ecclesiastical haul and stayed until nine o’clock. He’s off to London in two or three weeks and his plan is to live there and take a day course at an Art College. I remember his formless, colourful and messy drawings from our trip to see Psychic TV. His visit cheered me up a bit.

Like John, Del has been in Holland but he stayed only a couple of days as he was ill; he’s been down here a few times but went back to Milton Keynes today.

I’m buffeted by the shifting forces of circumstance, and all my desire for a change can be perhaps seen as nothing more than a cry for control.