When Im up on stage I often wonder what all those people are thinking. Whats going through their minds as they watch this skinny anaemic-looking bitch...with her Morticia hair/ paint-splattered Epiphone guitar and crimson lippy smudged halfway across her cheek/ chainsmoking ciggies and banging on about the New York Dolls/ Martian Belly-Dancers/ late periods or whatever else drifts into her head while the band struggle to tune up their instruments behind her and the lighting-guy goes postal with. Ill remember that. She said with a trace of humour. Sal. Kevin said taking her hand. Can I see you tonight? Perhaps. She answered. Maybe, youd like me to meet your father and brothers. I dont want them to think Im taking advantage of you. Sara burst out laughing and threw her arms about us both. Come with me, she said with a tremor in her voice. Theres someone you need to meet. Sara swept us through the village at a terrific pace and I struggled to keep up. We stopped abruptly, climbed three. More

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