Never Two Without
A few moments ago Ken Lansdowne died. He was my oldest friend and, with his wife Pat, family forever. Born in Shoreditch, East London (well before it was polluted by “artists”) on Christmas day 1938; he died this morning in Deal, Kent. The stories are too many and, finally, nobody’s fucking business. This was the last time I saw Ken, he came to visit shortly before I went into hospital, almost two years ago. After that, neither of us could travel. A diamond. With Teddy yesterday, and Ken today, this June is working on being memorable.
