The thought led his mind across fields and along unmade hole-potted roads. He had returned to Hardy’s countryside and the carriage would, indeed, be...a Fly. He could even hear the snort of the horse that drew the carriage: hear the swish of its tail swotting flies, and smell the leather of the harness as the steed chomped at the bit. His thoughts were edged in shades of green, ‘Soylent Green’! ‘Aye, ‘ee must ready me for the journey’ he coughed out the sentence using Hardy’s old English words. It was a fairly straightforward arrangement; a two album deal with an option for another two. The budget was quite reasonable and the record label even sprang for the rental of a small apartment for me in Pigalle slap bang in the middle of the Moulin Rouge. Nothing fancy really just a small one bedroom place. My neighbours consisted mainly of young working class families, prostitutes and three Australian travellers who had decamped to Paris to work. It was not exactly the quietist place to live. More

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