Ol' Brighty 4

Just when we thought it was impossible for life to get any better, our beautiful friend Rich came down to visit us all the way from Stroud in Gloucestershire. I haven't seen him for about a generation, and his amazingness has multiplied over all those years, which is hard to believe, given it's extremely high starting point. His wonderful partner Imo came too, who plays bass and is also an amazing artist. We jammed deep into the night, and jammed deep, into the night.

I had no idea Rich was such a talented singer and guitarist, as he sneakily hid it from me when we first used to hang out in Brighton, way back in a previous millennium.

I also had no idea that so many incredible people existed in the world. I keep pinching myself to check if I'm dreaming, as they keep turning up all over the place, and somehow I get the chance to hang out with them without even having to buy tickets.

The sun sets in the west in Brighton. Incredible.

The band....

Rich looking decidedly Dave Gilmoreish.

Imo shredding it

Manu inspired by the heavens

Me trying to solo while Brad's Kyrgyz sandal taps away. Brad ripped into some amazing vocals too btw, but his agent wouldn't allow me to publish any photos of him doing it.

The next day we strolled to the "beach" again, in our winter jackets, which you need here in the summer.

Unless you're Imo, in which case shorts'll do.

Rich about to draw, as we had a duel. Imo couldn't look. I accidentally shot her in the back.

Manu found this naturally occurring pebble art

She was so stunned she dropped her phone

Be careful

Manu practising her seagull flying again

And again

This says it all. Brighton in summer.

To be fair, Brighton people tell me there is actually a summer here sometimes. But I've never ever seen one and I don't believe them.

These were the duelling pistols Rich and I used. I killed Imo and he killed me.

A Redcoat's red coat. This poor guy's head was sliced off by a Napoeonic unFrench sabre.

We went to an art exhibition. There were amazing cut-art works in there.

In my head, every day, I sang my special song, a hidden thing, a simple waltz, that went around and around and around, just like how the world goes around and around.

I looked at the world as my song sang along, and I saw the whole thing as one long dance that would go on forever. And then one day I heard someone else singing my song and of course it was you.

I never knew that your song was my song is now our song, and when we're gone this song will keep on going around and around, to keep on telling the people of the world how sweet life is.

Sorry, but I forgot to find out who the artist is.

Ho hum. Another 17th Century building.

Spidermum

Fanks. 'Appy to be 'ere.

Rich, practising his catwalk strut

More Sad Goodbyes

Manu and I have had the most beautiful, heartwarming, nurturing and supremely restful stay in Brighton. It's been so inspiring to be part of a family again, and not just any old regular dysfunctional family that you get anywhere, but part of the warmest and cosiest family in the history of love.

It's so hard to leave.

But leave we must, as a vagabond's life is necessarily full of suffering and heartbreak, and would completely lose its vagabondness if you just stayed somewhere and remained happy, like normal people.

So, with heavy hearts and full bellies, with goosebumps from the cold, as well as from the warmth, it was time for Manu and I to head to our next distant land, which actually isn't that distant, just a little bit distant.

Yes, my friends, next up we're off to the land of jigs and fiddles, of old castles and shivering sheep, of battering winds, poetry and warm black beer.

Yes, the time has come, for the first time in our lives, for us to go to Ireland❤️

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