And then it turned August during the fastest three months in history, but when it comes to the speed of time it feels like I am repeating myself. I have moved house to a truly fabulous mansion in the no-woman’s land of SW9 between The Womb, Sticksource, and The Hood. A dwelling a funky fairy worthy and veggie-chicken soup to my Writing Soul. In the week before the move my fairy soul sister from Amsterdam Moona came to London for a few days to do some fancy work with high-flying banking executives at the Trafalgar Hilton. The client had arranged a room for her in the same hotel and despite a five-star mattress and a commute that would consist of taking the lift a few floors down she chose my mansion and company over five-star fanciness. I was well honoured. Moona and I have known each other for a long time. We went to drama school together for a year and shared the same local pub (Lowlands equivalent) in Amsterdam. We truly bonded last year, when I came back from my MaSr adventure and Moona was so generous to offer me her hospitality in her fabulous flat at one of the main canals in Lowlands Capital. We talked, got intoxicated, talked some more and realised that our journeys of the last few years with their trials and tribulations have been very similar. Now we are both reconnecting with the magic of life and are exchanging fairy wisdoms to get us where we want to be.
While summer is making another attempt to manifest itself as a proper summer another great talent has joined ‘That Stupid Club’ of Jimmy, Janis and Kurt among others. I was never a big fan of Amy and she only appeared on my radar after ‘Back to Black’ got absolutely massive- yeah, yeah, call me slow. I don’t consider myself a mean-spirited fairy and although I wished her success I was also a tat annoyed that it seems to be the white chick – think Adele, Duffy- that has to make sweet soul music as massive as it deserves to be by recycling what has been done before. But only now, when she’s no longer in this world and one pays her tributes and respect I realise she was truly one of a kind and a true embodiment of sweet soul music. Her talent could not keep her alive and at the same time her tragic death has made her immortal. I hope you are at peace now, Amy and that you’re having a ball grooving and jamming in the Summerland.
While August is the harvest month and we are reaping what we have sown, the wheel keeps on turning. And as I count my fairy blessings I think big, ’cause one is and becomes what one thinks. It’s the Law.