Early phonecall from frere yesterday morning lead me to drive over to visit my niece Amelia and famiy on the coast of Essex today. She's grown a wee bit and it a little bit more sentient than last time. Still obsessed with books, or wanting me to read every book she has. And she keeps coming out with new words that her parents hadn't taught her, weird stuff like knowing Spiderman was on this evening, or the rudiments of the game of Snap.
Driving over was a tunnel of channelling, with no radio in my car, my mind jumped on all it could, the whole Romford thing and going past the church where my brother and Lou got married, was it five years ago, all that business with a girl the first time round. Then I have these fuzzy memories of family stuff, doing uncle duties with a girl sat next too me looking beautiful in Manchester.
I realise that no matter how many times I click refresh, a girl doesn't update her blog, and her photos mean nothing and there's no email and no bowlie, and nothing out there. Maybe I'm just greiving not having anything to play mind games with, but would I?
Maybe Tobin had it right, you should bury the corpses in the walls and run away.
Neat the way the media aren't mentioning much about Tobin's conviction for Angelika Kluk's murder or his previous violent attacks on teenage girls, in respect to the current Brookside plotline-like discovery of bodies at his house.
On the way back to Alperton I fell asleep at the wheel, my car collided with some and left huge dent in one of the wheels. Its kind of shook me up a lot.
Maybe she's in a bad way too and would welcome communicae, coffee and kite-flying. How would I know.