…i've Had A Bad Week." What's Happened?"

The Kind Of Love My Mum Talks About Is Full Of Worry And Work And Forgiving People And Putting Up With Things And Stuff Like That. It's Not A Lot Of Fun, That's For Sure. If That Really Is Love, The Kind My Mum Talks About, Then Nobody Can Ever Know If They Love Somebody, Can They? It Seems Like What She's Saying Is, If You're Pretty Sure You Love Somebody, The Way I Was Sure In Those Few Weeks, Then You Can't Love Them, Because That Isn't What Love Is. Trying To Understand What She Means By Love Would Do Your Head In.

Radio Football Is Football Reduced To Its Lowest Common Denominator.

Everyone Disliked Their Partners At Some Time Or Another, She Knew That. But She’d Spent Her Hours In The Dark Wondering Whether She’d Ever Liked Him. Would It Really Have Been So Much Worse To Spend Those Years Alone? Why Did There Have To Be Someone Else In The Room While She Was Eating, Watching Tv, Sleeping?

I Couldn’t Bear To Think About The Proper Future, So I Just Tried To Make Things Better For The Next Twenty Minutes Or So, Over And Over Again.

Have You Got Any Soul?" A Woman Asks The Next Afternoon. That Depends, I Feel Like Saying; Some Days Yes, Some Days No. A Few Days Ago I Was Right Out; Now I've Got Loads, Too Much, More Than I Can Handle. I Wish I Could Spread It A Bit More Evenly, I Want To Tell Her, Get A Better Balance, But I Can't Seem To Get It Sorted. I Can See She Wouldn't Be Interested In My Internal Stock Control Problems Though, So I Simply Point To Where I Keep The Soul I Have, Right By The Exit, Just Next To The Blues.