Wednesday, December 08, 2004


One weekend in Autumn, Catherine and I were on the farm. Roman said he had to burn a load of rubbish. The farm was where we had our flat in a converted barn.Roman is the son of the artist who Catherine works for. Martine Cotten. He was in his late teens. She is a famous artist. Well in France she is famous. Maybe not here. In fact not at all here.

So being the pyromaniac I am, I love a good fire, I agreed to help Roman to buld the fire. We spent all day dragging out old wood and furniture, loading it on a wheel barrow and taking it to the tip in their farm yard. There was loads to burn. The pile was already high when we started. But after a day of shifting all the rotten wood, it was very high.

That evening we lit the fire. Starting small. We gathered old newspapers, and crumpled them up and lit them. We got a blaze going. It was a tremendous bonfire. We couldn't stand less than fifteen feet in front of it without being burnt ouselves. Martine and Catherine came out with aperatifs. Rum cocktails. Martine would use "Ron agricole" for her cocktails. That is agricultural Rum. She'd go to the depot with a container and they'd fill it for her. It's a very cheap way of getting pissed. So armed with our "ron Agricole" cocktails we stood in the darkness watching the big bonfire. The flame reached out to the stars. We'd achieved our goal and al the rubbish was being burnt. We stood there at a distance and basked in the heat of the fire. Then we went to bed to let it burn out.

At about three in the morning I heard an enormous crash.But still full of "Ron agricole" I went back to sleep. Catherine in my arms just murmered a little she didn't wake. I wasn't about to get up and leave my Catherine alone in bed.

The next day we woke and went outside. A whole tree was missing. It had caught fire in the night and fallen into the flames. All that was left was a smouldering stump. We all stood round the embers. It was still damned hot. Where once was a vigourous tree was now no more than a stump. God! We had to laugh.

What do you want to know? Just ask the questions. Do me a favour. I'm havng difficulty writing about Catherine (although I want to). Maybe your questions will inspire me to finish the novel (on the right hand side). Ask anything and I will do my best to answer. There is so much to tell but I don't know where to start. So you guys can start me off by asking the questions.

I need help here. You know you can do it. Ask the question. It doesn't matter what. I will answer.

Rock on dudes

Fuck the iPod now playing because it isn't

But if it was it would be playing Five years by David Bowie


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