Somewhere between these avenues of dereliction  straddling the moon and new york city, avoiding the fairground detritus of half-remembered dreams. I awoke, sleeping with her together in her dad's caravan, at the bottom of the garden, amidst the rhubarb where I fell in love.

Smoking joints with red leb scored from placid dealers, drinking orange juice in pubs, astounding the upstanding patrons with our foxy hand woven ways.

In those enchanted days it was good to be alive. Learning to drive, messing about with three-wheelers, scooters, motor bikes.We never thought of death or illness, just enjoyed the haze of the daze. Girls were so startlingly pretty and clever in a different way to us lads. Thinking back makes me sad. I shouldn't do it.