Home again.

Simon lives in a mews house in Chelsea. He’d bought it in a dilapidated state in 1970 and it’s probably worth several million now. Simon just got back from a trip to the British Virgin Islands. He had needed a break.

He had a pleasant trip to BVI. The few days in Necka were especially relaxing. Sir Richard was his usual charming self. The perfect host. Tough as nails underneath of course. They chatted about old times when Simon sold his magazines on street corners.  Had a good chuckle over that. Now it’s back to gloomy London. The rain. Keep busy is the trick. Tonight it’s the Brit Awards where it will be Simon’s privilege to introduce a succession of foulmouthed young drug addicts and make a few sarcastic remarks...in a nice way of course. He hopes it won’t be too dreadful.

Only one bag so he goes straight from Heathrow to South Kensington on the tube, peasant class. Nobody recognizes him. Which is both a relief and somewhat disappointing. Short walk from the tube station along King’s Road and he’s back in the mews.

The house is just as he left it. Russian oligarchs on each side now but that’s OK. The renovations were definitely worth doing. He can barely remember what it looked like when he bought it all those years ago. Easier to imagine it in Dickensian times when it was used for coaches and teams of horses. His bedroom once held hay. The living room was for the tack. Another small room upstairs was perhaps a stable-boy’s quarters. Now Simon uses it for storing Francis Bacon paintings, Hockney drawings, Furry Freak Brothers Comics, back issues of OZ, first editions of Naked Lunch and other collectibles. Good strong lock on the door. Coming in off street level it’s always amusing to think of great draft horses munching on hay and pissing foaming streams across the Kerman Ravar.

He checks his email. Ah, one from Arthur. He is agreeable to Simon’s proposal. Same old Arthur. He can’t just say he’ll do it he has to ‘be agreeable’. Simon hopes he didn’t give him a heart attack. They’re both getting a bit long in the tooth. Seems like ages since they got together. Arthur was over in England for his mother’s funeral if Simon remembers right….he took him out somewhere…Sticky Fingers was it? Arthur’s been in Thailand a long time. Wonder what he gets up to there? Right. That’s enough musing. Time for a shower and a change of clothes and it’s off to Earls Court for the bloody Brit awards.