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Everything changes - and yet nothing changes

Everything's changed. All of it. New location, new beginning. And yet: world carries on as before shock.

Every fortnight I go to the 32nd floor at Canary Wharf and write news for the IB Times. The rest of the time I look out the window at badgers and pheasants. Apparently a major rewrite of “Kidology” is required: am I up to the task? Hell yeah.

Great to read a thoughtful review of the “Still” anthology by Sarah Baume at “The New Short Review” recently. All this commuting gives me time to catch up on my own reading. Having enjoyed Mark Twain (Tom and Huck) I’m now on Henry James (gave up on Middlemarch). Still too scared to read Morrissey...

Watching a lot of films, too: not many good ones. Last night watched Telstar – the Joe Meek Story. Shudders of recognition. I too lived in Holloway Road... not anymore. I escaped.

Some things will never change: like the music I love. The other day I was putting up shelves when Sean, 7, started to sing: “Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes... turn and face the strain...” Dunno where he heard it: in the womb, maybe. It’s good to know it’s not all One Direction and Justin Bieber playing in that young head...

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