Arrived at London's Heathrow Airport last night:
The weather: rain, rain, fog.... AND nobody to meet me (AHH), nobody
at home (AHHHHHHHH).... went for a pint down the pub - on my own
(AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH) - in the rain (I AM SO SAD, CHRISSIE, MY HEART
BLEEDS FOR YOU, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)...
As Bob Dylan, helped by Peter Jacob and Michael
O'Sullivan sang to/at me last Friday night in Milano's on Houston
St. in Manhattan, NY... 'Chris Bright, how does it feel?'
Anyway, before you run out the house and jump in front of a bus,
I better stop this b****cks :-)
So, there we are. 2 and a half years, a few borders,
65000 miles on 2 bikes, 1800 U.S. gallons of fuel, 5 front tyres,
11 back tyres, 5 shock absorbers, hit/kicked
6 dogs (killed 1), 1 sheep (killed it: that was the big African
crash), 1 chicken (stunned), a half eaten cheese sandwich, 2 big
bangs (in both of which I was very very luck), lots of grey hair,
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so many broken hearts (yeh right, my a*se), many
new friends made, more fun than I could have imagined, a life lived...
and now it's all over....
Chris Bright, how does it feel? For the answer you'll
have to buy me a beer. Don't you feel sorry for me? I wouldn't for
you, if roles were reversed.
The future is unclear: In the very short term: 'Enlighten
young minds (Oh Great Teacher, teach us all you know) and then...
I have a few cleverly crafted cunning stunts to conjured up.