Feb. 8th, 2004

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As Russell was sitting in the diner, having another cup of coffee, the waitress, Martha, sat down and joined him for a couple of minutes. It had been a slow morning, and he was her only customer. Martha reminded him of his Aunt Grace, homely face, wide hips, and a generous nature. As she sat down, she refilled both their cups, and slipped a cookie across the table towards him.

"On the house!", she winked at him.

They sat chatting for a while before a new customer had her back on her feet. She passed Russell's table again a few minutes later as he was getting up to leave, and leaned over.

"I meant to ask you, if you could have dinner with anyone in all of history, who would it be, and why?"

Russell thought for a moment.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one, Martha!"

"Okay, Russell, no problem. See you later." She winked at him again.

As Russell walked down the street, he laughed to himself. The question had a very easy answer, if not exactly what she might expect.

Who would you have dinner with?

"So, I guess that she would expect me to say Jimi Hendrix, or Paul Kossoff, or even Jimmy Page, but nope! Met them all in my time, and I respect their work, but could think of plenty of other people that would be a lot more interesting!

My choice would be someone from my own history. Someone I would love to sit down with in twenty years time, and see if the same person stares back at me from those soulful eyes, or if life will change him, too.

William Miller.

He'd be about 17 now. I've seen his stuff in Rolling Stone, and a couple of other magazines. Always meant to go see him, but never got round to it. Perhaps that's cause of Penny. If they are together, wouldn't want to barge in. But when time has passed, and maybe things aren't quite so raw as they could still be now, I'd like to think I could sit down with him over good food and good wine, and see what he has done with life. Anyone who had the guts to join a rock band on tour at fifteen is gonna have an amazing ride, no doubt about it.

The aging rock guitarist and the journalist! The enemy!! Now I think that would be a conversation worth hearing!"

Russell stopped in front of a record store, all thoughts of future dinners pushed from his mind, as he saw a display of Stillwater and Free albums in the window. He pushed the door open, a huge grin on his face.

I believe if you give a little bit of love
To those you live with
A little bit of love - oh
Has got to come your way

Well, in my mind it's easy to loose sight out the truth
But in my heart I can't deny my feelin' inside

'Cause I believe if you give a little bit of love
To those you live with
A little bit of love - oh
Has got to come your way

Man in the sky you say you fly and you lose sight out the world
You wanna stay high then don't deny your feelin' inside

'Cause I believe if you give a little bit of love
To those you live with
Little bit of love - oh
Has got to come your way - now yeah yeah
Oh Lord

I believe if you give a little bit of love
To those you live with
A little bit of love - ow
Has got to come your way - oh yeah

I believe if you give a little bit of love
To those you live with
A little bit of love - hoh
Has got to come your way - mmh
I do believe - oh give a little love - mmh

A Little Bit of Love - Free
Fraser/Rodgers/Kossoff/Kirke
almost_russell: (Default)
Three hours later, Russell left the record store. The guy who ran the place, Rob, had introduced him to CDs. He had sorted Russell out with a player, and numerous CDs to play on it, from Stillwater, Free and Led Zeppelin, to Van Halen (Russell was in total awe of Eddie Van Halen's abilities with a guitar), Shawn Mullins (the guy could write lyrics, alright, and his voice was like gravel) and Nirvana (shame, that had been a waste of incredible talent) among others.

Rob had also sorted Russell out with somewhere to stay. He had given him the keys to a top floor apartment that over-looked the park. Rob owned the building, and lived on the first two floors. When he got there, Russell opened the door, and walked through the apartment. The main room was dominated by a large window with a wide sill. The windows needed cleaning, but when Russell opened them, he grinned. Dropping the rest of his stuff, he took his can of coke, sat on the window-ledge, and looked down towards what he considered to be his tree near the centre of the park.

This place was beginning to feel more and more like home!

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September 2004

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