‘Love Is A Wonderful Colour’ – The Icicle Works
Why did I go home that night? All that dialogue in the car. All that talk of love and how much it hurt us both over the years. She cried. God, how she cried, and I wanted so much to touch her and kiss her, but felt it better not to push the situation over the edge; felt it better to let it be and try to be friends. And Christ, even then I knew – just bastard knew – that it wouldn’t be the bed of roses I told her I was hoping for.
What was she so upset about at the time? Could she have been pregnant? Why did she say that ‘time would tell’?
God, take me back to October ’88 and I was so glad to be rid of her. Oh yeah, sure I was. On the outside.
What are we playing at now? No. No. What am I playing at? Hell, what the fuck was she playing at? We said we’d talk it over eventually, said we’d remain the best of friends. And did we? No. No, we did not. All I got was a little loose and uncomfortable conversation in the ‘nice bit’ of The Angel, and then her friends were there – so what good was that? Sue Evans being there, and that blonde girl too. Bound to inhibit me, as well as the fact that I’d got so bloody tanked up in readiness for going to the Cinema. I wish she’d have come with us. I wish I’d fucking invited her.
‘Nobody’s Fault But Mine’ – Led Zeppelin
Then, as I drove by her in the car (with Rod and them), she waved, smiling, and I waved back.
But stay in touch did we, bollocks.
I wrote twice, I think. Once not long after and once at Christmas. Oh, and again, the other week. Replied yet? No. Far too predictable; not even a ventured courtesy.
What the hell am I trying to prove?
AH! I remember what it was now. What she said that ‘confuses’ me now.
Last year. The Saturday after the Friday that we made love, she said ‘I want you to know that’s not the sort of thing I normally do…’
I took it as: ‘Don’t think I’m a slag, please.’
But she could have been saying, ‘You’re special’.
Shit – maybe that’s the proof that I was!
My No.1: ‘Touched By the Hand of Cicciolina’ by Pop Will Eat Itself
WENT INTO THE GARDEN LATE. STOOD IN THE WIND AND SAID SILENT PRAYERS, MADE WHISPERED WISHES. THE WIND, THE CLOUDS, THE BLUE; BEAUTIFUL.
GRAN + GRANDAD PRITCHARD ARRIVED TO STAY IN THE CARAVAN. THEY ALL GO TO SKEGNESS ON SATURDAY.
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Next time: ‘DNA Soul Baby…’