Seven fifty-five am. He's in the car next to me, gazing sadly sideways. You couldn't make him up; no one would believe such a stereotype still exists. Flat cap, grey hair visible underneath. Cigarette balanced carelessly between his fingers.
A Starbucks coffee is balanced incongruously on his dashboard.
Michael Jackson is dead. Farrah Fawcett is dead. Jeebers - who's next? These things come in threes....
I've been to the Hoppings twice now, Wednesday night and Thursday night. Watch out for photos Saturday and Sunday. I had a fab time.
My first coffee morning post on Novel Racers will be up soon. I'm really nervous.