So this is the week. Daddy has been not alive for ten years, and it feels like ten minutes. We miss ya big guy, and the sense of unpredictability that was so abundant when you were here has been notably absent in our lives, since you left us without warning. I'm also pretty sure Pentel have gone bust, given that no-one buys their green pens anymore. I do wonder what you'd make of being a cultural icon, and maybe you'd be faintly embarrassed, as the committee suggested at footie the other day. Either way, we're proud of you, and we're going to let rip for you this week at the Tedfest. And if anyone else is reading this, drink, dance, laugh and plainly smile with all the childlike joy of Winnie the Pooh for a man whose soul and lust for life outran his body when we needed him a bit longer. Thank heavens for small mercies. Thank heavens we had him at all!
In other news, Rob and I are still working on getting famous. Proper famous, not Jade Goody famous. The radio show project, "Late night with Rob and Don" is taking shape. We want sick humour and good music. And I am doing my work on the novel, biography and some damn fine poetry. I'm going to win the Nobel Prize for Literature by the age of 50. Normally you have to be over 80 to win it, but I'm feeling cocky!
Will keep you posted.
