Now, My Mom Always Said Two Wrongs

I Was Too Shy, I Think, To Sing Publicly. It Takes A Particular Kind Of Person. And When I Was Young, I Was Not That Person. In The First Instance, When A Record Company Said To Me, Do You Want To Try And Make Your Record, My First Reaction Was, No, I'm Not Worthy - I Couldn't Possibly, And So On And So Forth.

I Was Shown Into A Room. A Red Room. Red Wallpaper, Red Curtains, Red Carpet. They Said It Was A Sitting-room, But I Don’t Know Why They’d Decided To Confine Its Purpose Just To Sitting. Obviously, Sitting Was One Of The Things You Could Do In A Room This Size; But You Could Also Stage Operas, Hold Cycling Races, And Have An Absolutely Cracking Game Of Frisbee, All At The Same Time, Without Having To Move Any Of The Furniture. It Could Rain In A Room This Big.

In Books, Day Breaks, And Night Falls. In Life, Night Rises From The Ground. The Day Hangs On For As Long As It Can, Bright And Eager, Absolutely And Positively The Last Guest To Leave The Party, While The Ground Darkens, Oozing Night Around Your Ankles, Swallowing For Ever That Dropped Contact Lens, Making You Miss That Low Catch In The Gully On The Last Ball Of The Last Over.

It's A Basic Truth Of The Human Condition That Everybody Lies. The Only Variable Is About What.

Believe It Or Not, Perhaps I Don't Show It Much, Or Well, But I Think I Like People.