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Aftermath



Kevin Winn asked for a full accounting of our exploits in London. Little by
little, the whole sordid story will be unveiled. In the meantime...

On Sunday 17th September I got up around 0900 and drank a bottle of Evian
from the fridge, in perhaps two long swigs. I knew I could not have faced
anything like breakfast. I was reminded of my past great hangovers where I
recalled various drinking episodes like polishing off a whole bottle of
Pimm's #1 one night (a gift of Group Captain Omi Taneja). Well it's a kind of
flying anyway with a rough landing. Then there was the whole bottle of Black
Label one New Year's eve. Never give your Dad Red Label as a gift. It does
not endear you to anything least of all good taste.

After showering I staggered forth north to Marble Arch where I was to meet
the remnants of our patrol. Walking along Park Lane I remembered eating an
"Indian" sometime late the previous night. More precisely, I remember
staggering back to Dip's and Olle taking his suitcase from Dip's. Then I
recalled the most absurd scene of Geraldine doing Dip's sister's hair in the
kitchen about 0100. And Geraldine's mother was setting out the finest dishes
and cutlery for take-away food from next door?! I was soon to find out how
mean their curry was.

I do recall them asking all kinds of silly questions which I answered in
something between an posh and a working class voice. This is the subsonic
gravelly voice one gets after twelve pints. Dip was particularly annoying
with his singing "people try to fade away," (sic) and sick. I was hoping he
and his voice would fade away for the sacreligious treatment he was giving
our anthem. 

And Geraldine showed me a photo book of the latest flat she and her Dad are
fixing up. That's all I needed. 0200 hours and I'm looking at before and
after pictures of crown moulding and such. Fucking flat pictures. I must
admit her Dad is a whiz at remodeling. If he ever comes to California, I'll
have to smash a few things so he can put them right.

Oh and scandal, I asked them, in German, if they thought that Dip would ask
for Geraldine's hand. They don't expect it to happen :(
Dip speaks German like he knows Who lyrics. He had no clue to my mixing.

Well back to Marble Arch. After emerging from the subway to the Arch, I saw
Joe Grimes directly opposite sitting on a bench. He was wearing clear glasses
and I though it strange he didn't have sunglasses like me until I recalled
that he had been drinking Coke after Coke during the festivities. Smart man.
Never a drop of the harder stuff (that I saw at least).

Christian Krumey and Mike Westbrook joined ten minutes after and we went to
speakers corner which appears to now be populated by street-wise American
orators. Is there anyplace safe from our franchises?

Then we started on our walking tour of Mayfair and Soho with stops at Keith's
place and Hendrix's:

The following I tore out of the Financial Times (C) for 18 September 1995.
Kindly do not repost.


"Purple haze

Jimi Hendrix died in London 25 years ago today.  In his honour he is
being given a `Hendrix lived here' plaque, next door to another famous
composer, Georg Friedrich Handel, who lived at 25 Brook Street. Two hundred
years later, Hendrix spent his last months at number 23.

The Handel Society, which owns the lease on number 23, initially objected to
a Hendrix plaque on the grounds that Jimi had not lived there long enough to
earn one.  The Society assented, however, when English Heritage declared its
 willingness to grant Hendrix the first ever plaque to a contemporary
musician.

There was a proviso; Hendrix fans had to drop their insistence on a
psychedelic purple plaque and settle for the traditional blue instead."


I heard that old flame Kathy Etchingham was instrumental in pushing this
ahead.

What about a plaque for Moon, chaps? Shall we start the movement (as opposed
to the singular form). Is Annette Walter-Lax still around. "Do you think it's
alright?"

To resume the walk, we went accross Regent Street, sought refreshent in a pub
and continued on to Carnaby Street then Wardour Street. After a moment in
front of the Marquee we adjourned to Chuen Cheng Ku for Dim Sum I still rate
amongst the world's greatest (including Hong Kong).

We walked in what was now a light drizzle and I bought a Punt note for Irish
Jack to sign. He mentioned he'd rather spend it. And then we walked up
Haymarket to The Regency Palace Hotel for Irish Jack's reading.

To be continued unless there are objections.

Regards, George