The day started out peculiarly because the man sitting next to me on the bus to London got off before my stop and took my coat with him.
By the time I realised, he was long gone and I was standing at Victoria in an ill-fitting blazer. I am really hoping that he isn't enjoying being squeezed into my neat little reefer jacket and will get in touch with the bus station in the same way that I did so we can swap back.
This evening, possibly inspired by a day in gorilla-ish sleeves I managed to leap onto a bus just as it was setting off back to Bristol and plonk myself in the front window seat next to a nice-looking lady. We chatted then she dozed and I knitted and then she woke up when we were near Swindon and we talked a bit about me and then I asked about her and she said
Well I'm busy doing publicity for my book about being David Bowie's sort-of-landlady
and I said you have to tell me everything
she didn't look as though she wanted to tell me everything so I said that I would definitely buy her book (and I just have) and that she should tell me everything because I used to work for Peter Gabriel
She told me that she'd been David Bowie's sort-of-landlady until Ziggy Stardust, they set up an Art Lab together at the pub up the road and her house was always full of rockstars and fans and she'd been working on the book for two years and was going to launch it at Christmas but then heard about Blackstar and decided to wait until the 8th of January.
then she told me
I'd had lunch with Tony Visconti just the week before and he didn't say a word
this is a sliced-off version of my all-time-favourite David Bowie/Brian Eno/Tony Visconti film
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