Old friends.
It’s funny to think of how different we are, the two of us tonight. But we know how to be friends. He’s a good guy, and has three daughters to remind him of that. The child-lottery has locked him into it. We went to an all boys school. Maybe we aren’t as fucked by it as many of the sociopathic nightmares that tried to get one up on me over the course of my house dinner earlier this year. He seems balanced. Ditto his lady.
He’s an oil man. What’s left of it.
I’m not gonna judge him for that. I met old friends at the sociopath dinner who are buy to let landlords now on a vast scale. “Some people think I’m the devil,” said someone with no interest or edge, hoping for a rise. “Not at all,” I told them. Yes they are taking advantage of a fucked system. Yes they are dull and immune to consequence. That just makes them fish. It doesn’t make them baddies. They’re part of a thing that’s THERE. They haven’t the gumption to invent it or anything else. They’ll exist in the system where they have been put and never question it.
Andy has creativity. He’s a very curious and thoughtful man. I’m surprised how much I like him, but he was Bradby’s where most of my friends in my year were. My own year in my own house had been indoctrinated by a sociopath to the extent that they still haven’t moved past that influence.
He cooked up a storm and we had lots of red wine. I was proud that we had more than be expected. I tried to warn him.
Then we booked a local island service. This little midget drives you home. He adjusts all your mirrors, but he’s sober. Someone follows him in a little branded vehicle. The island is small enough that it doesn’t matter where you’re going, you’ll be there quickly. £35 quid, but at least I didn’t feel like I was risking my license. I’ve been breathalysed three times in my life. Two of those times have been in Jersey, and if I’ve driven 500000 miles, about 700 have been in Jersey. They love an unnecessary test.
I’m writing this on my phone in my hotel room. I am still utterly fascinated by midjourney…
AlBarclay 