issue 43
September 2008
Whether you�re a �chastened child of reason� (� Cathal Coughlan) or one of those snobs with your head stuck so far up your own arse that it�d take an ENDOSCOPY to have a conversation with you, you�re MOST WELCOME to HY!, the tatty little rag that says FUCK the mainstream team �cos who WANTS to live in a world populated by grinning Saturday night TV idiots ANYWAY? Not US, baby! HY! is written by Mark Ritchie and Gary Simmons, JUST FOR YOU!
WHAT WE BELIEVE
Here is what we believe in
at the root of ourselves -
a living wage,
a joyous heart,
a chance to drink and dance
through the shadows,
a chance to fight and frolic
with wild abandon,
staring down death,
holding fast for another dawn,
another day,
another dream.
The snare drum kick frees us,
we're lost in its crazy reverie,
smiling stupid
like the idiot sky.
THE SELF-PRESERVATION SOCIETY
On television sets across the world
we watch wars unfolding,
empires crumbling,
people giving up on the dream.
Sipping our cappucinos and skinny lattes,
distracting ourselves with crossword puzzles
and idle gossip,
we moan about the weather and the taxman
as vultures circle our splendid cocoons.
In every corner of the earth
we line up for exotically named cocktails
as teenage soldiers lay lifeless
with sandpaper tongues.
Posing in front of full-length mirrors,
congratulating ourselves on new outfits
and weight-loss,
we order another round of hors d�oeuvres
as the universe carries on without us.
THE DRINKING CROWD
All human life is here,
hidden amongst the long shadows
where we gather in earnest,
longing to get lost.
Escape is only a few tips of a glass away,
it's in the fading notes of a jukebox song,
the slow decay of another day.
The poets smile down on this scene
that is ever-changing,
never-ending.
They smile down through the dust
and the fading sparkle.
As Paul Westerberg said,
"You grow old in a bar".
NATIONAL ANTHEM
In draughty church halls,
we sit on plastic seats,
smoke cigarettes
and drink coffee,
sharing our "experience, strength and hope"
with each other,
spilling our guts out to total strangers
before the collection plate is passed round.
Then it's time for another coffee,
another cigarette,
another blood letting
and, lastly, the Serenity Prayer
for which we are upstanding,
like it's the National Anthem.
Only we're not asking for God to save the Queen,
we're asking Him to save us.
13.7 BILLION YEARS OF HELL
Selected Dispatches from an Unwilling Player of God�s Little Game
By Gary Simmons
As soon as the NOISY French FUCKS got off the night bus at Stratford (I said, �Bye, don�t get killed on the way home�), I had a gang of NIGGERS get on, taking the piss and threatening to cut me up!
*
I had a dream that I was on TV coz "they" had filmed a noise gig (in a house! In front of a TV! The "audience" were laying on the floor CONVULSING, like that Devo video! "Are we not men?" We are FAGGOTS!) and my dad was watching it and he could see his mad son going ape-shit with all the OTHER freaks! And then my noise-gig mate, Giles, was being interviewed, only he was bald, not with his normal shaggy hair... and so it goes on.
*
Just got asked by (55 year-old) Christine (not 12 year-old Christina) "Is your sister as beautiful as you?" Spoke to YOUNG C TOO, about the "Scary Movie" films she's seen... at TWELVE?!?!
*
5.32pm: In the Eagle, drinking my OWN cider from the glass I nicked from them last time, outside under THEIR sun-brella coz it's fuckin' RAINING!
7.23pm: We is at a stag/shag/hen night! It's Jemma's mum's wedding tomorrow and she is from between Glasgow and Edinburgh. It's pissing down but WE ARE HAH-PEEE!
12.08pm: WHAT A NIGHT! Nina was in a BAD mood so she fucked off home. I got Roi and me a Stella. Left the English/Scottish hen/stag do (I kept getting told off for FUCKIN' swearing, the CUNTS! No WONDER she's on her 3rd marriage!) and got the tube to Leytonstone, drank in the Sheepwalk and made mates till 2am! Got bus homo and spoke with local DRUNKEN DYKE, Jewish Princess Rachel!
MELLOFAGGIE�S �I LET MY HUSBAND�S MISTRESS MOVE IN� BUT IS HER BABY HIS?� PLAYLIST
WHITEHOUSE � USA 1. Cassette (Original Come Org cassette containing hilariously melancholic WZRD and WKFR radio interviews plus Live Action 9 which was recorded at the Sparkle Sound Studio in New York on 26th March 1983. Bennett sounds REALLY evil! Come Organisation. 1983)
SUTCLIFFE J�GEND � PIGDADDY. CD (Extraordinary sounding release from the inimitable Kevin Tompkins (Death Squad, Whitehouse, Bodychoke) and Paul Taylor (Modest Moke� and I-know-not-what-else). Tompkins does a John Lydon with the cover painting. I�d LOVE to read the lyrics to these songs� I�d really like to video them sometime. Cold Spring Records. 2008)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 11, 5TH APRIL 1983, MUDD CLUB, NEW YORK, USA. Cassette (Madonna came to see this concert!! T�was the last night of the Mudd Club, according to my (erect) copy of the Whitehouse Live Action Dossier. Susan Lawly)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 12, 7TH RAPE-GIRL 1983, EXIT, CHICAGO, USA. Cassette (William Burroughs supported with some live reading. A WONDERFUL review of this show can be found in my (�Hard-on, hard-on me�� � Gary Glitter) copy of the Whitehouse Live Action Dossier that I KEEP going on about. Out of an audience of 250, only 20 �curious ones� were left after the management pulled the plug to alleviate more trouble when someone took �revenge� on Peter Soto�s synth table! Fucking ACE!! Susan Lawly)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 14, 11TH RAPE-MERLE 1983, SLAUGHTER HOUSE, DENVER, USA. Cassette (Or �semi-official� (?!) bootleg LP split with LA22, sometimes called the Slaughter House LP. I wonder why THAT is? �Huge PA hired for what amounted to a private performance for an audience of 25�!!! Can THIS get any BETTER?!?! Susan Lawly for the cassette, Rectification Society (?) for the LP, I believe� oh, FUCK knows! Not many folk are all THAT interested in these details, you know? This PARTICULAR music scene is nowhere NEAR as popular as under-age sex internet websites� GOD did it to us� ee poot iz SEED in us. �You�re a bad liar� � Whitehouse)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 15, 15TH RAPE-SIL (OF GIGER/SPECIES FAME, PHHWOAR!!) 1983, FIESTA HOUSE, LOS ANGELES, USA. Cassette (Susan Lawly)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 16, 16TH RAPE-MARK RITCHIE 1983, ANTICLUB, LOS ANGELES, USA. Cassette (This show bored the audience in �the same way seeing some second rate version of Barry Manilow in some lounge would bore somebody�!!!! Hmmm� my mate who used to work for Kerrang! once said that �Copacabana� was a GOOD song. And it IS. Susan Lawly)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 20, 25TH RAPE-SIMON MORRIS 1983, GROUND ZERO (OOOH-ERRR�) GALLERY, SEATTLE, USA. Cassette (Last show of their first US tour� �De Sade would have been happy� and �it made my stomach sick�! Susan Lawly)
WHITEHOUSE � LIVE ACTION 21, 21ST JUNE 1983, MUSICIANS CO-OP, LONDON, UK. (This was the WORLD FAMOUS Equinox Event, organised by Mary Dowd. �Whitehouse were banned on the eve of the event after Philip Best had a fight with Mary Dowd.� It WOULD have been the first line-up with 15 year-old Philip-and-the-next-one�s-you-Best. Magic!!)
SPK � DESPAIR. DVD (Music videos/DVDs are inherently FUCKING TEDIOUS to sit through, but THIS is an exception!!! Gorgeously designed in pretty much EVERY fucking way, this wonderful release compiles wads of material that marked the genesis of SPK from 1979. I heard their 2nd LP �Leichenschrei� on John Peel one night in 1982 and bought it after work the very next day. I was HOOKED! It might be best to watch the 2007 interview with former SPK member �Tone Generator� in the bonus section (sounds daft, ISN�T!!) before venturing into the features area. If my playlists excite you in the same way your sexual partner no longer does, order this gem from Justin at Cold Spring NOW� www.coldspring.co.uk. Any complaints? Yeah, the DVD box gets fuckin� STUCK in the tight-as-a-mouse�s-ear slipcase. GOD! Twin Vision/CaTV. 2008)
MUSIC
SUTCLIFFE J�GEND - PIGDADDY (COLD SPRING) by Gary Simmons
Shall I �try� the new SJ CD now? (After WEEKS of, er, NOT �trying� it!) Yes, I�ll be a DIABLOW. The last track is called �Nonce�. Mr. Pastie/Pasty (?) the �punk� called me a nonce in Camden before I did battle with �punk� Ross. Pastie/Pasty also said he�d �cut (my) balls off�. Well, Caveman-at-Tower-Records threatened to have me �banged up�. What an exciting life I lead! Caveman�s objection was about me going to the Scala cinema to see Pasolini�s �Salo�. What a PRICK! Oh, this SJ CD is GOOD and WELL fucked-up! I�m so proud to say I met them that time. LOVELY chaps! �Does your ignorance give you pleasure? Does your pleasureless give you joy?� You can�t ignore the Whitehouse influence in some of this, even stuff WH did AFTER Kevin Tomkins (Mr. SJ) left. Ooh, I can hear the KIDS going past as they come out of school� first the juniors, THEN the seniors. I�m a fucking EXPERT! �You have to be an artist, a madman� � Lolita. There�s niggers and paks and half-breeds, oh JOY!! Fuck, it�s 3.47pm and all I�ve �eaten� today is my Epilim and Prozac!! Yum fuckin� yum! Ah, I lie, I DID have a plum (small, hard). SJ�s �Filth� sounds like a Dalek with diarrhea. Now all the OTHER Daleks are joining in! Mad. Now, in �Dirty�, Tompkins sounds like a demented Martin Luther King� with FROGS in the background. �Nonce� is next. Is that word in the dick-shon-hairy? When I was called that by Pastie/Pasty, I said �That�s a Sun/Daily Mirror mentality.� I said �This is just typical of punks.� I said �Henry Rollins says you�re all so bloody narrow-minded.� I said �Mary was 12 when she had Jesus.� I said �If a girl is 15 with one minute until her 16th birthday, then is she not sexually attractive for that last 60 seconds?� I was told he didn�t want to BE near me/WITH me/on the same PLANET as me/or to be made of the same hydrogen-to-helium stella nuclear-fushioned MATERIAL as me. I said �Okay, if you feel that way, I�ll go.� I got up and that�s when Paul-the-�punk� threw my pint of Hobgoblin o�er me. These arseholes are beyond contempt!! �Dirty� just cut off. My Big One can�t take it. I need a new amp. I�ve needed a new amp for YEARS. Back on it goes. HAH! �Nonce� IS in the prick-gone-fairy! Yeah, I thought so� a sexual offender, �especially one who assaults children�. Well, the only people I�VE ever assaulted is some CUNT in the Fox, some CUNT in the Boston Arms and 21-years-younger, still-living-at-home and built-like-a-shit-brickhouse Ross. No children. No sexual offending. This is fucking THOUGHT crime I�m being Aker-Bilk-USED of!! So much for Camden�s punk�s Anarchy symbols tattooed all around the rim of their ARSES! God, WHY do they DRESS like that?! WHY do they PRETEND to like Crass? Why do they SCRAWL �GG Allin� on their JACKETS? WHY don�t they just go live in fucking NORTH KOREA or bloody BURMA?!?! If you�re gonna aspire to live in an oligarchical collective then WHAT�S with the dyed mohawks? Blithering fucking IDIOTS!! �I�ve had to put up with these sick fucking invalids for what seems like my entire LIFE! AND WORSE!!� � Whitehouse. Pastie/Pasty didn�t seem to care for Nabokov�s Lolita OR Kubrick and Lyne�s films. Wonder what these blokes ARE fuckin� into? Real warped stuff, I bet, like gerontophilia, the fucking FREAKS!! Makes Gary Glitter look like a paedophile! �Nonce� has cut out now!! My Big One can�t take Sutcliffe J�gend, obviously. I�m gonna have to nick a tape from mum so I can put this CD onto it and so adjust the recording level to stop it cutting out at high volume. GOD! In the year 2008!! Next time you�re checking out the stars, bear in mind that the ISS is now as bright as Venus, what with all the equipment up there. It�s fucking ASTONISHING, is what it is! And there�s still a load of Russian modules, solar panels and the 4th NASA photovoltaic section to come!! Does Pastie/Pasty know about this? Does he care? Does he have the SLIGHTEST INTEREST what-so-fucking EVER? 3 million fucking YEARS of evolution� for fucking WHAT?! About-TURN! BACK to the primordial soup on the fucking DOUBLE! �I don�t know but I�ve been told, Camden punks are as evolved as MOULD.� Okay, got THAT off my chest. On goes SJ again. This bloke goes to a Sutcliffe J�gend gig and asks my bitch, �Why are you wearing a swastika armband?� Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!! Why, that�s the FUNNIEST fucking joke I�ve heard since 2000 stockbrokers got pulverised on 9/11. Okay, a horse walks into a bar and says �Have you got a copy of the rare Guapo EP of the same name?" Barman says �How many times have I got to tell you, Gary, you�re BANNED from here and most of the other �rock� pubs in Camden?� Gary, the horse, says �But how do you know it�s ME? I�ve hired this pantomime horse outfit from Rainbow Fashions, where Milich�s daughter told me that I should have one lined with ermine�. Barman says �Coz your dick�s hanging out and Milich�s daughter is still attached to it.� Some of this SJ album sounds like Rolf Harris with his wobble-board and stylophone. Er, SORT of! �Tie ya pederast down, sport, tie ya pederast down!� I owe the world NOTHING, it�s paedo-in-full! HARGH! �We created it, let�s take it over� � Ramleh. Simon Morris says that Gary Mundy is the shyest man in power electronics but now I�m not so shy. SJ plays on. It�s like a perverse homily. Homily-a-lone-oh-lee. �MY God, it�s full of stars!� � Arthur C. Clarke, 2001: A Space Odyssey. Shame there are no lyrics with this CD. �Nonce� plays. They�re playing my tune!! Oh, �Nonce� has cut out! Grrr� bloody 24 year-old B+O AMPS! I had the same trouble with another SJ CD. Well, I think I�ll go raid the scullery now.
NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS � DUTY EXPERIMENT (SOLEILMOON)
Here�s 22 �demonstration recordings and out-takes from the Emission Control Archive� which take in everything from silly barrel-scraping indulgence (�All the Popular Tunes�) to rather-good electro-scuzz (�Even the Good Times Are Bad�), minimalist ambience (�Fried Eggs�, �Fat Slimey Parasites�, �That Red Wall Feeling�), industro-gunk (�Kick in the Testes�), brain-mangling noise (�Cradle Rocker�) and sound collage (�Feotal (sic) Grave � Alternative Soundtrack�). Something for ALL the fucked-up family, then!
CONOR OBERST � S/T (WICHITA)
Such is Conor Obert�s dizzying songwritery genius that you don�t begrudge him his well-earned hammock nap on the cover of this album, his first solo effort since adopting the Bright Eyes moniker back in the late 1990s, when he was still a teenage w�nderkind. To be honest, the only thing to distinguish this from a Bright Eyes album is the absence of Mike Mogis�s pedal steel but you soon forget about THAT when confronted with songs of such CLASS as �Cape Canaveral� (surely the SECOND greatest song to bear that title� the first, of course, being by American Music Club), �Get-Well-Cards�, �Danny Callahan�, �Eagle on a Pole�� any ONE of the shitty identikit �indie� bands currently plaguing our airwaves would KILL to be able to write a song even a tiny FRACTION as good as ANY of the ones on display here.
JANDEK � READY FOR THE HOUSE (CORWOOD)
Work was work. Bought a copy of Mark Oliver Everett�s book for �3 in Fopp at lunchtime. Had to stand in a queue in the Saint Vincent Street post office for a while before I went to the �Shoe at around 5pm or thereabouts. It was pretty busy. Drunken Eyes was in. I stood near the door. Grant appeared. He�d been in Edinburgh, where he saw Jim Bowen in the street! He gave me a few CDs (including this Jandek one� creepy, claustrophobic minimalism from 1978) and I gave him a zine. We found a seat and then Samuel showed up. Had a couple of drinks and some chat before moving onto Ross�s where we discussed the shocking state of so-called �indie� music. I started on the cider. Then we went to Bar 10 for another couple and held an impromptu photo session outside in the light rain. Next stop was the Lab where we had ANOTHER couple of drinks before checking out MacSorleys, who had some shite female-singered band on. Last stop was the Arches, where we stayed a while before Grant went to get his train and I went to get the last subway. I somehow managed to get on the wrong train, which terminated at Govan, so was faced with the terrifying prospect of being wrecked in a well-dodgy and unfamiliar area. Don�t know HOW but I got talking to some ned guy with a bottle of Buckfast who said he would phone me a taxi back at his place! So, we stood outside his house, which he said he shared with his mother and sister (I think). He gave me some of his wine (told me to finish the bottle) and rang a taxi for me from my phone. We chatted while we waited for it and I kept thanking him and all that and I WAS really grateful and felt very lucky that I met someone who was nice �cos I could�ve easily ended up getting stabbed or something. Had a good, pissed chat with the cab driver too and was WELL relieved when he dropped me off at my door. Can�t recall how much the fare was but I�ve got a feeling I tipped BIG. Couldn�t even get my shit together enough to set my alarm before crashing out so FUCK knows how I got up for work at 6am-ish the next day but get up I DID. I was still drunk for about the first half of the day. We were sitting round the �other side� for some reason. Spoke to a guy who was telling me about the film he�d seen on TV, �On A Clear Day� (it�s �about how the working-class get shafted�, he said) so I told him that its star, Peter Mullan, drinks in the same pub as me (which he DOES. He was there the previous night). The one horrible caller of the day was the one that stuck in my mind, though. WHY?? When I went out for my Crumbs roll on my first break, Drunken Eyes was getting money from the nearby cash machine. After work, I walked Lola and Lauren out and bought a ticket at Central before going for a pint of cider in the Arches before getting the 5.07 train. Had 20 minutes or so to kill in Lanark but I just went to Somerfield for a couple of minutes and then hung around the bus station. Had soup when I got in and chatted to mum a while before having a bath and then making some curry for dinner. Read my �What�s on TV� and Gary�s letter. Spent some time on the PC but went to bed around 11.15, knackered.
RICHARD HAWLEY � LADY�S BRIDGE (MUTE)
Non-stop rain. Got a subway into town. Borrowed Lola�s brolley to go out for my first break roll from Crumbs. At lunchtime, I hung about in Central Station and went to Missing, where I bought this GORGEOUS Richard Hawley CD for �4. In the afternoon, I had �coaching� with Linda, though it mainly consisted of chatting about various non-work related shit. Then I was given test-call feedback from Lee. So all THAT got me off the phones for about 45 minutes, which was good. Natalie was super-excited about her Kinder Egg toy and I got a few folk to sign a leaving card for Chris (though the CUNT decided to leave a day early, meaning he never got his card OR his night out. Oh well, fuck HIM). Got Alan out and then rang Samuel and went to meet him in Universal, where he was having a drink with his just-discovered-she�s-pregnant-ex-workmate and HER ex-boyfriend. They fucked off, though, and me and Samuel went to collect his car from the nearby car park. We had to go through TK Maxx. Found a parking space near George Square and watched all the Scotland and Ireland fans getting wet (there was a game on at Hampden. John from work was going). We went to this new gay pub on John Street called the Speakeasy which is really cheap and has a good jukebox (Samuel put some things on, including �Freak Scene� for me, which was so loud they turned it DOWN!) He had something to eat and we both had cider (only �1.70 or �1.75!) Several pints. I�d been having a few mysterious �number withheld� calls, so I got Samuel to answer my phone when it rang but it was my mum, so he chatted to her a bit and then I did too. Saw some lesbos going upstairs to the women-only bar. Saw an old tranny guy and a tasty OMP. A few footie fans came in, though they quite obviously had NO clue what KIND of pub it was, which was funny! Later on, Samuel�s boss showed up with his �cousin� (i.e. his boyfriend, but he pretends to everyone he�s straight!) I had a good night but decided to leave a BIT early, so I got a subway and was back at 11pm.
STARS & BUTTER � FIRST STEPS (SELF-RELEASED) www.magicplasticcassettefactory.blogspot.com
Fuck me, a CASSETTE! In THIS day and age! Well, they�ve NEVER gone out of fashion with ME� AND my �4-from-Asda-(or Wal-Mart if you wanna be like THAT)-walkman is STILL going strong after six years of loyal service. This comes straight outta the Brooklyn art studio of Michael J. Bowman (of the Semper Lofi label) and its charming DIY, demo-tape feel is a rare and special pleasure, especially considering it comes with a CUTE little zine. And the music? Well, Mike and the wonderfully named Orietta Chiusamonti treat us to 25 minutes worth of untitled instrumentals which combine distorted garage rawk, glacial Casio textures and a smattering of art-rock spikiness to quite delightful effect. Cheapo walkmans were MADE for moments like these.
CRASS � DEMOS 1977-79
Listening to Crass has always made me feel a little bit like a bored teen being forced to hear his granddad�s war stories. I know I SHOULD be interested and pretend that I AM for a while but end up gazing longingly out of the window at passing ice-cream vans. This vinyl LP (a bootleg, I think) is a LOVELY looking artefact, with its foldout black �n� white poster sleeve, and it�s not that I don�t LIKE the music� I DO (especially �Who�s Side Are You On?�, �End Result� and the pulse-quickening �Do They Owe Us a Living?�, a CLASSIC, no less), it�s just that I find it hard to get PASSIONATE about it. To be honest, this music sounds about as revolutionary as �Songs of Praise� here in the year 2008. Maybe you had to be there� and, hey granddad, I WASN�T.
EELS- BEAUTIFUL FREAK (DREAMWORKS)
This is the one with �the hit� on it, but there�s more to this album that the, admittedly fab, �Novocaine for the Soul�. There�s the urban-life-sucks beauty of �Susan�s House�, the grungy joys of �Rags to Rags�/�Not Ready Yet�/�Mental� and the REALLY LOVELY title track/�Flower�/�Guest List�/�Spunky�/�Manchild� (co-penned by Jill Sobule). Oh, and I may as well mention �My Beloved Monster� and �Your Lucky Day in Hell� too, �cos ALL the songs on this album are GREAT.
INSOMNIACS ANONYMOUS
George had been driving for hours without a break when the inviting lights of a motorway service station proved too much to resist. After relieving himself in the gents, he went into a caf� and ordered a full breakfast and pot of coffee. It had just gone 3.30am.
The place was surprisingly busy considering the late hour. A group of bleary-eyed lorry drivers huddled around a quiz machine, swearing and laughing. As he waited for his food, George sat at a table and leafed through a copy of the previous day�s newspaper, yawning and scratching his chin, thick with grey stubble. From the corner of his eye, he saw a teenage girl sitting alone, gazing absent-mindedly out of a window. She�s probably waiting for her boyfriend, George thought, pouring himself a mug of black coffee.
He was halfway through his breakfast when the girl sat down at his table. He looked up, surprised, and smiled.
�Morning,� George said.
�Are you Mike?� the girl asked.
�No, I�m not. Sorry.�
�Oh� I was kinda hoping you�d be Mike��
�Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I�m not. Who�s Mike, anyway?�
�This guy I�ve been chatting to online. We arranged to meet here but it doesn�t look like he�s turning up.�
George put his knife and fork down and took a swig of coffee.
�Isn�t it a bit dangerous, arranging to meet total strangers in the middle of the night?� he asked.
�That�s why I told him to meet me here,� the girl said. �In a public place. I�m not a total idiot, you know.�
�I never said you were. It just seems strange, arranging to meet somebody this late, that�s all. Not that it�s any concern of mine. I�m only passing through.�
Turning his attention back to his meal, George began devouring the last few remnants of food on his plate. Only when this was accomplished did he look up at the girl again. She was rubbing at one of her eyes, as if wiping away a tear.
�What�s the matter?� George asked.
�Nothing. I�m just tired, that�s all.�
�You should get off home, then. Doesn�t look like this Mike�s going to show, does it? Do you live round here?�
�About a mile or two away,� the girl said.
�I can give you a lift if you want.�
�Thanks, but I�d better not. What was it you were saying about meeting total strangers in the middle of the night?�
George laughed. �You�re quite right,� he said. �Very sensible. How did you get here, then?�
�Borrowed my nan�s car. She can�t really use it anymore. She�s ill. I look after her.�
�Sorry to hear that,� George said.
�Thanks.�
Most of the lorry drivers had drifted off, leaving only a few people in the entire place. The woman behind the counter had switched on a radio station that was pumping out a constant stream of inoffensive pop hits from the 1980s.
�Do you want to know the reason?� the girl asked.
�The reason for what?�
�The reason I arranged to meet somebody here in the middle of the night?�
�Okay, then. Why?�
�It�s because I can�t sleep. I can�t sleep during the day �cos I�m looking after my nan and I can�t sleep at night �cos I�m WORRYING about looking after my nan. So I like to come here and sit for a while, just looking out at all the traffic going by. I wonder about all the people in all those cars and lorries, about who they are and where they�re going. I wonder about what kind of lives they�ve got. It makes me feel better. It takes my mind off myself for a bit.�
�I�ll let you into a secret,� George said, gulping down the last of his coffee. �I can�t sleep either. That�s why I drive about. I drive about all night, sometimes, trying to exhaust myself. Then I pull into a lay-by and crash out for an hour or two.�
�So how come?� the girl asked. �How come you can�t sleep, I mean?�
�Much the same as it is with you. Worry. Worry about my job, my wife, my kids, paying the bills for my dad�s nursing home. Everything, really. Driving�s about the only thing that takes my mind off it all.�
They sat there for a while as Phil Collins sang about his �Easy Lover� and the woman behind the counter hummed along to herself. A sadness seemed to descend upon the place, or perhaps it had always been there, unnoticed. Outside, the colours of daybreak were beginning to impose themselves upon the sky.
�Well, I�d better be going,� George said, getting up to leave. �I hope everything works out alright.�
�Thanks,� the girl replied. �Nice meeting you.�
�You too.�
Walking back to his car, George shivered in the chilly morning air. Doesn�t look like you�ll be getting any sleep tonight, old boy, he told himself. Never mind, though. Look, the sun�s about to come up.