clinging to the wreckage

We’d woken up and sat around drinking coffee and doing nothing for hours. The weather was dreadful but I suggested we go for a walk. I gave her one of my woolly hats and she looked wonderfully beautiful with it on. We walked hand in hand, partly to steady each other, as the pavements were covered in ice. It was raining and I kept slipping, she didn’t slip at all (better balance?). Never the less, we continued to walk. It was insanity and it was wonderfully romantic. We reached Davis Square Station and she went home to see her cat whilst I went home to shower and spend some time alone. Later that night we met for dinner in an American diner and after a few beers and a cocktail, we bought some wine and went back to her apartment. She said that she wanted me to meet her cat… and I wanted to meet her cat… but, more so, I wanted to spend time with her. The apartment was relatively small but very pleasant with beautiful views of the surrounding streets and the Cambridge...

And that morning I finally found the courage to say hello and, in the absence of the ability to speak on a crowded shuttle, hand her a card that explained my intrigue and asked her to message me if she had any interest in going for a drink. A couple of torturously nervous hours later I received a message saying that she’d love to go for a drink. We met and have been inseparable ever since. It has only been a few days but they have been a few remarkable days and each time I see her walking around her house or mine I can’t help but smile in disbelief that this is the lady I admired for so many cold mornings at that unwelcoming station as we waited for the bus. Today she flies to Canada to be with her family for Christmas and I am in Boston with my punk rock records and books and there is a tremendous sense of peace and contentment. Once more I feel grateful for the life I have been fortunate enough to live and for the opportunities I have had, particularly in the last four to five years....

Through the night I did not sleep. A six-hour flight from Boston to Lisbon, a two and a half hour stop in Lisbon and then a one hour flight to Madrid. I arrived at my hotel relatively rapidly and got straight into bed. I slept for one hour and then got up to go and meet friends. Before I left Madrid, there was a lady I used to see from afar at lunch times, I referred to her as ‘The English Princess’ because she looked exactly like that. Milky white vampiric skin, raven black hair, a tiny sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks, and the looks of a super model. To my surprise, she was at our gathering when I arrived, accompanied by her Spanish friend – an exceptional beauty, too. My arrival was a surprise to my friends and they all started to jump on me and hug me whilst cheering. The English Princess and her friend noticed this and looked on with smiles. A couple of hours later the Spanish friend departed and, astonishingly, the English Princess walked directly over ...