John, I'm Only Dancing


There’s a witty line in one of Pink Floyd’s songs: hanging on in a quite desperation is the English way. I wish at times that I was English.  So I can drink a pint each night and to mull over that every year is getting shorter, never seen to find the time; plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines.  Wonderful prose from the guys in Pink Floyd.  But then there's David Bowie.  And everything is ruined.


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