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  • Writer's pictureKate Clarke

A Year

Updated: Nov 14, 2022

It's been a year, doll.

Or it might be an hour, a month, or just a few minutes.

Everything's changed and nothing has changed and I have never spent so much energy on trying to stop the clocks.

People don't believe me when I say we never had a fight.

I know there are some arguments we probably should have had, but I could never have looked at you and said something barbed and you couldn't have looked at me and said something unretractable. And what has been keeping me afloat this past year if not the catalogue of soft looks and encouraging words you sent in my direction, all the time? Did they ever go in the bank.

I'm sorry we didn't see eye to eye on Motown, though.

You missed the closing series of Spiral. I cried when Laure and Gilou got out of 'les flics' and started a new life together. I don't cry at TV shows - you do. We were invested in those two. You would have given me a smile and said: "Yes! a happy ending."

Dick Clement and Ian LaFrenais are writing a film about Ray and Dave Davies which you won't see.

You missed Neil Diamond at The BBC in January.

Remember you told me that if Dion passed away before you I would have to take the day off work so you weren't on your own? He has a new album out. He's singing like a motherfucker. I'm listening to it, so you're listening to it.

I'm waking up at 7am every morning, suddenly, quietly, like a doll lifts its eyelids when you prop it up. The first thing I do is to sift through my dream to check that you were there. You always are. Sometimes you're 65, sometimes you're 25 - but you're always stylish.

You're usually laughing - the way you used to laugh around Terry and Trevor - that carefree laugh that goes back to childhood.

Those dreams tend to find me setting off on a train journey. I'm on my own and anxious because you're not there, and it all feels off-kilter. Then I get off the train and you're waiting on the platform. Or I will be sight-seeing in London or Glasgow and again I'm on my own and unsettled. I stop at a cafe and there you are at an outdoor table, waiting with a coffee and a smoke. You laugh when you see that I'm anxious, and you say: "I told you I'd be here to meet you, didn't I?"

Of course, I know what those dreams are about. And I know you're not waiting for me anywhere.

But the world belongs to those who notice it, so this is still your world, doll.

I'm dying by inches from not having anyone to talk to about insects - Charles Darwin

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