Another Father's Day, and yet another year without my old pop. Here we are in New York, well over half my lifetime ago. I fucking hated that 'Abraham Lincoln' beard he'd decided to grow, but now I'd give anything to give that bristly chin a cheeky scratch. Miss you Dad x
After three years, I'm still trying to get my books published, and I was rather encouraged to hear that the daughter of a friend of mine has just had her work accepted, until she told me that it had taken ... FOURTEEN years for that to happen!
I'll be almost 75 in fourteen years. I hope I've still got my marbles about me to enjoy all the acclaim, the TV shows, the book tours, the wine, the women, the song ..
Ah, dream on, Martin. Still, it's a nice dream .. the publication, that is, not the wine, women and song. One just needs to keep one's chin up as one trundles along that long and unforgiving road.
There must be gold at the end of the rainbow ..
