AGE 74

MALCOLM RETURNS TO MY LIFE, MAKES BRILLIANT FILM, REVEALING STUFF WITH FATHER.

DINNER WITH BILL FEATHERSTONE. CHELSEA ARTS CLUB. BRAD FAYNE. CORIANDER PRINTS.

FOREHEAD BUMP. HOSPITAL APPOINTMENT. BONE ON BONE. SCAN.

HOLIDAY IN PERANPORTH. CORNISH IDYLL WITH SAL, SIAN AND DEN. BEACH HOTEL JUST OUT OF A MARY WESLEY NOVEL , L.P.HARTLEY’S PIVOTOL NOVEL , ‘THE SHRIMP AND THE ANEMONE.”

WITH YOUNG EUSTACE AND HILDA, SPRINGS TO MIND STROLLING THROUGH ROCK POOLS, STUNNED BY THE FORMATION AND PATTERNS ON GRANITE BOULDERS. A SENSE OF AGELESSNESS HANGS IN THE AIR. THE HIPPY BEACH CAFE OFFERING ALL. STUDYING PERFECT AND IMPERFECT BODIES, CLAD AND UNCLAD. YOUNG AND ANCIENTS LIKE SAL AND ME. WHAT UNMITTIGATED DELIGHT IT IS, SUCH EASE AND CONTENTMENT TO BE WITH LOVED ONES AT THIS UNSPOKEN INTIMATE LEVEL.

WHEN MY TRAIN LEAVES FROM THE STATION EARLY ON SUNDAY MORNING. SIAN AND DEN WAVE ME AWAY. ME HANGING OUT OF THE CORRIDOR WINDOW UNTIL THE SMALL DOTS OF THEIR RECEDING IMAGES ARE OBLITERATED FROM VIEW BY THE BRICK BUILDING OF THE SIGNAL BOX AS THE TRACK CURVES AWAY FROM PLYMOUTH FOR LONDON. WE HAVE BLOWN KISSES TO EACH OTHER RIGHT TO THE VERY END. AS I RETURN TO MY SEAT, SWAYING WITH THE MOTION OF THE TRAIN, MY FELLOW TRAVELLERS SMILE UP AT ME, HAVING WITNESSED THE FOND FAREWELLS. IS THIS HOW MY LIFE COULD HAVE BEEN ALL ALONG. IS THIS HOW THEIRS IS, FULL OF GOODWILL, LACKING ANGST .ARRANGING MYSELF FOR THE COMFORTABLE RIDE HOME WITH SOMEONE ELSE AT THE HELM, THE DRIVER OF THIS TRAIN, NOT ME, I COMPREHEND THE ESSENCE OF FINALLY LEARNING TO LET GO AND ALLOW THE FINEST THINGS TO HAPPEN. ALL ON THEIR OWN. HAPPINESS IS SIMPLY BEING.