Hold your Horses.

What did I say about counting my chickens? (Mixing those metaphors again!) I walked in this evening to a phone call from the Agents to say that they're not getting the answers they need from the prospective purchaser, and are therefore being cautious about the sale! How much more of this can we take? I did feel that this new buyer was hassling us about agreeing to a price, and I wondered why it was so important to have it nailed by the end of the day yesterday. We went along with her on the understanding that she both wanted and needed to proceed quickly, as do we. I hope that this is just a hiccough, and that everything will toddle along nicely when we get some answers from her solicitor. In the meantime, we have another viewing booked in for Friday, and the Agent is assuring us of his undivided attention so that we can hopefully proceed. Son is wasting no time and is looking at a flat in London as I write. We just have to stay positive.

What a difference a day makes. It was great to feel that the pressures had evaporated today, and I was able to just be, without that nagging feeling that I ought to be doing something else. I didn't feel sick. I didn't feel anxious. It's a good feeling.

I thought of an old friend this evening - probably one of my oldest friends. He is a drummer whom I met when I went to a Sixth Form Dance, many centuries ago. He was playing for the dance, in a group called the Terry Graham Trio. He was the Terry and Graham Bond was the Graham. And they had a pianist called Colin. Some of you may have heard of Graham Bond. He was a brilliant and multi-talented jazz musician who could play almost any instrument you could think of. He was terrific on the saxophone (all kinds) and the piano. He didn't need music on the page, it was in his veins. He formed the Graham Bond Organisation (with Ginger Baker), and became pretty famous. He was, despite his size and huge personality, a very fragile person. He got into drugs, and Black Magic, and, oh, all sorts of dark things. And his personal life was a mess too. In the end, he couldn't handle any of it, and jumped under an underground train. But the Graham I remember was a real friend, someone who would come round to our house and play the piano for hours. We laughed so much, Terry, Graham and me and Sister too. And Terry and I still keep in touch, not very often but that's OK. We have some great memories.