This is written here because I needed to make a computer copy before I forget abuot it., and Word isn't working and I'm far oto drunk to remember where I put it tommorrow.' It will be rewritten and edited later. It's shit at the moment.
Edit: I have gone back and tried to change this, but other than the minor spelling errors I corrected, I can't bring myself to edit this, the rawest, roughest piece of work I have perhaps written down in recent years. I don't know... A whole load of romantic crap. These are the exact thoughts that were in my head when I wrote it - no editing, no censorship. In a few years I probably won't remember wiriting it, or thinking these thoughts. And what will have become of the person I was then? He will be dead. I can't destroy the aide memoire of his existence I will have, as imperfect and badly written as it may be.