Chewing over the spoils of the last 3 days, and indeed the last 3 years in the best living room in the world. The shake up, or metaphysical fuck up which culminated this weekend, also included the power to the kitchen getting fatally blown, the boiler fucking up and the washing machine giving up the ghost against a backdrop of a warehouse full of people who cared not, having been on a 48 hour party tour of Bow, the very last one. So, utter destruction all around, badminton and pool played feverishly, a continual stream of the same questions: 'When are you moving out? Where are you gonna go? Do you need a hand?' and I finally feel as if we have put the old place to bed. The people who have made the family what it is, and the bonds that have been forged in these walls, will live on forever.
This is it.
One story ends, another begins.
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A record of the way things sometimes are.
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