Wednesday October 10th 2001

My brother rings me and tells me of this rumour going around that the terrorists are “doing” London tomorrow. People being told “Don’t Be In London on Thursday 11th”.

I myself have to be in the City for a few minutes in order to catch the 9.30am Stansted Express from Liverpool Street, then a few hours at the plucky little Essex airport begging Ryan Air staff to let me carry my white suit on the plane with me. “No, it isn’t impregnated with anthrax… and I’m going to Sweden.”

But if I do have to perish tomorrow, O Lord, please take the Stereophonics too. And anyone in Embrace. And Starsailor. And that band who were rehearsing next door to us last Sunday that were doing a 14-minute version of “Knocking On Heaven’s Door”. And anyone wearing a hilarious “Porn Star” t-shirt. And a few music journalists I could mention. I have a little list. No, I have a Very Long List.

I’ve just had my hair cut, so they can say “At Least He Died With No Split Ends”.

Oh well, there’s always reincarnation. If so, I hope reincarnation gives me a miss.

So long, I love you, Keep On,

Dickon x