Last Morning in Frome

Perhaps the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Once well I will come collect my dog and sort out material goods, most given away. Tools, most of all, if my partner has chosen to come on a new adventure. Leaving today is emotional carnage. Last time walking Dook for a while. Take table top to the carvers. Final instructions on desk completion. It is all but done, I would have loved to have completed it. Still, 97% of a decent one to call my last. Take leave of workshop. But most of all get driving and leave this mess of mine. It is too easy to blame events on life's pathway but if I had not met that freind from Leeds one Saturday morning. If the draw of a familiar face and accent an island amongst a sea of different accents, manners and cultures, I doubt I would have fallen in. No one sets out to be an addict. Curiosity, the desire to not stand at the sides of the disco, watching others dance, but to join them, to experience life from within. The ecstasy of being in cautious, sworn to the moment, is a dangerous trait. Jack Londons quote, 'life is to be lived, not preserved at all cost" covers something of the reason. To understand. To take part in the most intense human activity taking place. So once MDMa, clubs, dancing faded, the only other exciting game in town took me. I never had any conception of how long, how deep or how destructive playing out with the heroin boys would be. It never leaves you. Once changed you can stop taking it but your cells remain poised, waiting, hungry.