Saturday Night Beneath The Plastic Palm Trees

Tottenham. 2020.

Once a suedehead, always a suedehead. The wife says I should grow old gracefully. Fuck that. The world is still full of lies and violence and hate. Now it’s men younger than me fucking it up but we continue fucking it up anyway. Proper music helps you forget all that, move beyond it. And decent clothes make you feel good too, even at my age. Especially at my age. I’m alright growing old disgracefully. And she knows that I know she loves me for it really. ‘Let me make your broken heart like new,’ I said to her the night we met, and I could tell by the way she smiled she got what I meant straightaway. We danced to that song at our wedding. And at our silver wedding.

By the way: I’ve still never been to Balham. Never will now, not with…you know. Ah well. They tell me it’s gone upmarket anyway.