November 24 (2)

522 Playing around with a bunch of words

523 A good guitar riff is a thing of beauty

524 A small prayer inside a prayer, inside a hymn

525 They can come from some deep, mysterious place

526 It was a time of unredeemed stress

527 “Leave well alone” is not always the right thing

528 Sometimes the words and music just come together

529 I think it’s about acceptance

530 Liverpool Institute High School for Boys

531 My mother died when I was fourteen

532 Honest, straight-forward, undubbed

533 A bit Gene Vincent, a bit Elvis

534 Always on the cusp between conscious and unknowing

535 Take off your clothes and bear with me

536 In the collective unconscious maybe

537 Just a little whisky in my coffee

538 Don’t try and it will happen when ready

539 But thank God for the ones who won’t accept

540 Block out the world, listen for the colour

541 Horatio, I am dead.

542 I felt at ease, loved and protected

543 I can get a bit “perfectionist”

544 Getting back to basics, bonding again…

545 Doing too much of everything

546 Is the collective unconscious in the collective unconscious?

547 There’s ‘trouble at ‘tmill…

548 I often find myself in different kinds of trouble