I've just heard from my German mate that an old shipyard warehouse near him is being converted into flats for refugees, and that he is quite happy with the idea. Bremerhaven, he says, has plenty of room even if you discount the brownfield sites.
He also tells me that there are 500 hard-line Nazis on the loose but hiding underground, because they managed to avoid the criminal justice system that took too long to swing into action before convicting them.
Also, he tells me that there is a camp in Sweden for refugees which is so far North that at this time of year, it never gets light. Fear not, because in the Summer it will never get dark either, so it will balance itself out. They ought to tell them this at the border maybe.
So David Bowie has died. I am pretty sure that I met him when I was about 10, and he a young teenager.
I was at a playground near Woking (only 30 miles from London), when a fascinating boy on a bike turned up who we had never seen before.
He was strangely handsome and attractive and all the girls were swooning over him. Someone asked him what his name was, and he said David Bowie. I had just seen the John Wayne film, 'The Alamo', in which they pronounce Jim Bowie's name, 'Booey', and told him that this is the way it should be pronounced.
"I should know how it is pronounced," he said with some irritation, "It's MY name."
I don't know when he turned from Jones to Bowie, but this is a bit too much of a coincidence not to be him, don't you think? Maybe he developed his stage name when he was quite young? I'll never be able to ask him now.
My late mother. - This is the last of my series of old photos, and a particular favourite of my late mother. Not too PC these days, but I like it anyway.
9 minutes ago