Andy T

Feeling a bit sickly at the moment. My prescription hasn't yet come through for the next batch of Sorafenib and so I have a few days off from it. I can't wait for the Chelsea Spurs game tomorrow! Up The Chelsea!

Andy T was a punk poet in the early 80's. We share a common bond of having done several tours with Crass. When he was going into surgery for a brain hemorrhage issue, he had to sign forms to say that he might die or be crippled and they would not be held liable.

His missus Cheryl was beside herself with worry. Andy slipped a piece of paper with a short poem on into her hand on the way into the operating room. He sent me the poem on recently hearing of my predicament!

Saint Peter's waiting by the gate
He offers me his hand
I'm sorry Pete It all looks great,
But you don't understand....
It might be written,
It might be fate
But you haven't got enough big mates
To get ME through the pearly gates
So sling your hook you bastard

1982 On tour with Crass. Two Welsh lads and me

The moment there is accumulation

To understand conflict, we must understand relationship, and the understanding of relationship does not depend on memory, on habit, on what has been or what should be. It depends on choiceless awareness from moment to moment, and if we go into it deeply, we shall see that in that awareness there is no accumulative process at all. The moment there is accumulation, there is a point from which to examine, and that point is conditioned; and hence, when we regard relationship from a fixed point, there must be pain, there must be conflict. JKrishnamurti