should have another go. So what can I tell you this time, then? Not so long ago I went up to do some sheep shearing in northern Sweden and my car broke down. I could have frozen to death, but luckily I didn’t as a mechanic was able to fix it. Domingo, my neighbour in the valley, married a Swedish sculptress and he has turned out to be a pretty good artist himself. Not bad for a shepherd, eh? It’s weird, you know, the more I get into this writing lark the less I feel like doing chores around the farm. I even paid Manolo to help out, and I felt terribly guilty when he’d been slaving for four hours and all I’d done was type a chapter heading. A couple of years ago, we all got telephones in the valley for the first time, and it felt really strange to be able to talk to people back home without seeing them. The telephone also caused loads of hilarious misunderstandings at first. “There’s a man calling,” shouted Ana, my wife. “Says his name is Leaf of the Male.” It turned out that it was actually William Leith, one of the Mail on Sunday’s top reporters, who wanted to interview me about my first book. What a hoot!Leith turned up several hours late and drank all my beer, but he turned out to be a good bloke and asked some really searching questions. “What’s your name?” he slurred. “How many times have you been burgled here? And what’s all this about you playing for Genesis?” Yes, it’s true. I was the original drummer for Peter Gabriel’s band at Charterhouse. I got kicked out before they became famous and Peter gave me £300 not to make a fuss. What a nice bloke. I later went on to play the drums for Bob Fossett’s circus. How am I doing? Ah, you’re still awake, but don’t worry, not long to go now. I went to Spain to study flamenco when I was young and I’m still very keen on it. One winter it rained a lot and we didn’t have much money but we were still very happy. By the way, we’ve got frogs in our swimming pool. The digested read, digested: A Year Too Long in Andalucia
|
