Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Friday, 4 May 2012
I almost never came back
I have just found out that my darling girl woke up in the dark two nights ago, drenched in tears and convinced that I was dead.
In her dream, she went to H.I. and confided in her sorrow, but all H.I. did was to say that everything was 'alright'.
"NO IT ISN'T!" wept my girl.
A smile spread across my face when I heard this tale tonight. So she does love me after all, I selfishly thought to myself.
Starting around 1970, I took every mind-altering drug that I could lay my hands on, and by 1972, I was taking full-strength, imported American LSD at least once a week, and smoking extremely large quantities of hashish in every available moment in between trips. This lasted for at least two, more like three years.
Then, one night, I was being followed by a man who had already gone right over the edge and it was patently clear to me that I must rid myself of his presence, so I strode up a very steep hill toward the Medieval convent that was my first home in Bath.
He began to run out of breath and begged me to slow down, but I strode on upwards. I knew I had to rid myself of this man, and all he represented.
Then - in the darkness - I saw a line across the road which was not visible to him, and I took one step over it and waited for him to catch up. I knew he would not - could not - not step over this barrier between one world and the next.
He begged me to come back down - just one step over the line - but I smiled and refused. I stood about three feet away from him, knowing that he would turn around and go back down again, leaving me alone forever. This is what he did.
After a short period of reasonably extreme madness lasting about a year, I was back to normal - if you could ever call me that.
Poor old Sid Barrett never saw that line, or recognised the safety to be found on the other side of it.
Now I am growing old and an 18 year-old girl loves me so much that she has nightmares about my premature death.