Death

I am surrounded by death. My father in-law died on Wednesday, my own father went in to hospital the same day and I'm not convinced he will leave it. All this puts your life in purgatory, largely punctuated by sad moments in pubs.
Meanwhile both Julie and I left our jobs and are moving to Wales. Thankfully we know, solidly, and forever, we exit London town on the 1st October. The sense of discombobulation is extreme, and then there is every body else to worry about.
Amidst hospital visits and every night in strange beds, my brother took us to a record shop in Market Deeping, above a sweet shop. I recommend this bloke. He had some great gear. He even had Aerosmith's Rocks.
But my brother and I both bought the same record, which was a bit weird, both because amidst the collection there were two copies, and that we both selected Dire Straits Communique to take 'home' with us independently. We didn't remark on it at the time but since I haven't stopped playing the record since, I believe there may be some strange significance.
Communique was the first Dire Straits album I bought and there are lovely things within, and in our worry, my brother and I text our appreciation of this record, he says he loves the clarity of the guitar playing, I just love the misery in 'News' and 'Where do ya Think your Going', as well as the clarity of the guitar playing.
I bought the record a long time ago and lost it along the way. So sometime in 1979 I bought it and it meant something. Now it seems to mean more. I'm glad, amidst all this loss, I find something.