Sometimes I remember, nostalgically, my time in Hammersmith when my past was safely stowed in limbo in the attic
- instead of being stuffed into cardboard boxes, surrounding me now while I type, mocking my attempt to relaunch my life. A half-forgotten past, randomly recorded, smelling faintly of decay, demanding to be sorted.
So much trouble could have been saved if the removal vand had crashed on the way here, suitably insured
I wish I had the courage to dump the lot of it.
