I’m looking out of the office window at the slipper of a moon through the dark branches of our tree.
The window has rain on it. My hands are cold.
I am so sad
A long long time ago on a planet far far away I was at a party in a 60’s semi in Surrey. It was a boozy dopey party. I had two boyfriends who were brothers. Funnily enough, called Simon and John C. One was in the sixth form and dark, one was in my class and blonde. The fight hadn’t happened.
They put a record on the record player. It was Ch ch ch changes, by David Bowie. One of the boys had monster flares. I was wearing pin stripped trousers and a waist coat that my mum made for me from a pattern, copied from some Oxford Bags in Chelsea Girl.
We kissed. Someone opened a giant can of beer and it exploded onto the ceiling. We put asprin in bottles of cider.
When I heard Bowie was dead, I was stunned. I sent a text. ‘Have a coffee. On bike! Bowie died ’. I was on the trainer crying, cycling, being flimsy. How odd. He never knew me, never met me, never read a facebook post, or a tweet.
I don’t want David Bowie to rest in peace, I want him to be here, being cool. There isn’t anyone else .
And no piece of music ever took me back so fast to one moment, to one particular feeling as that. That’s why we are so sad and put out flowers and sing his songs in wet squares and put up pictures of him.
For me it’s a loss and I am sorry for us all.