Mel’s room was bursting (as usual) with “stuff” indicative of a large life confined to a small place. In addition to the prominent guitar, disco mixer and whirlwind of discarded clothes was a steadfast stack of revision material for Eng. Lit. juxtaposed with Orwellian extracts for the current play plus Walhol’s diaries and Edie Sedgwick pictures for the next project.
Blade Road – one way system, John, and thence northward to Scotland.