It’s been ages since I was struck down with the flu. I felt like Death in Camden Market, which was perhaps convenient I suppose considering the amount of Goths that were there on a Monday lunchtime. Maybe I could have signed a few autographs. Do Goths not have jobs? It was the lunchtime pint and cigarette that set it off – sitting in the World’s End with the same beloved faces and banter, I fell into a time / space vortex and rematerialized three years ago in my old union. I do miss it all – the youth I mean, the recklessness.