It has been a tough old day. One of those heavy-hearted ones that you think you won't get through. So it was a blessing when I found a twenty one year old diary amongst the rubble that inhabits the study at the moment. On reading it I am not sure whether I ought to burn the bloody thing or tear bits out and frame them. Maybe send them to the people I was writing about? Half of London seems to be in there. Quite a few people are written with a lot of affection while others don't come out in one piece. I hardly recognise myself when I write such nonsense as ....'I must maintain a low profile if I am to get through the Christmas period'..... 'My God, he really thinks he can still do that VOODOO SHIT on me?'..... L came to see me. We went to the Blue Posts. I had a stout she drank a Whiskey Mack. She had to pick up her DAT tape from a Guy Called Gerald'..........'Last night I couldn't sleep. H asked me why and I told him it was because I had a song going round in my head. He asked which one and I told him, 'We Built this City on Rock and Roll'.