my destination, as it turns out, was old age, unlike my father’s. he died in his bed aged 45. ‘i have a bad headache,’ he said when he came home from work, ‘i’m going to lie down.’ and he never got up again. i have headaches almost every day and i also have to go and lie down but i always get up again. one day i won’t, soon perhaps but not yet. there are still so many things i have to say to you and there are these words you see and i have to get them out. sometimes i waste what little time i have left thinking too much about the order of those words and then i remember that old dharma bum my spiritual father william burroughs who invented the cut-up method in a hotel room in paris in the year of my birth when he allowed the words themselves to determine their order but it took him all his life to realise there is only love — ‘no solution no satori no holy grail,’ he wrote on the 30th of july 1997, a few days before he too lay down for the last time, but that realisation would have got him into heaven.