It's me...how are  you doing? ..... I thought that  the selfish part of this story should be about me. after all,   

I remember us all in that  band room that I built; Always loud and cheery, and no harm going on in there hey? 

We'd  play  sock ball for hours in the warehouse and then  retire into our earthly  band room.......  

laughing our heads off. Remember?

There was  sticky  brown carpet with stains all over it.  loud music, improvisation to the max & the stories that you knew about everyone.  Ash,  beer, spray can art;  ......that Haight & Ashbury madness;      Oh yes Thursday night was always cool..........I feel it's    Kinder  like     "The Big Chill ".....now...isn't it old mate?   

I told you  "You'll be running this place one day"   

Do you remember;   I just didn't think it would turn out the way it did. The Poet and me. 

I was used for your evil ways?  Every week we'd party and let our hair down;

There wasn't  any talk about  work in that room  hey "ABBOTT" Sometimes even the Hourman would join us;.....

although that tapered off for some reason, maybe he was embarrassed with the way you operated? 

after all both of you were brewing the insidious  disciplinary measures to curb our happiness? 

and `You' did make sure that he got the "Heads Up" on everyone, didn't you. 

We sang and laughed; and you know what?  even though our moments were personal; you made it  business,

I told you stuff; and I thought the personal stuff was safe with you,  A  privilege,  

But  I guess looking back at your form, There were expectations of me. I wanted you to know that I always gave to the real me.......I guess now I knew your game

Of course I  thought It was an investment in the happiness that occurred when friends are  true,

and I guess I felt safe.  Oh don't say thank you, just come again soon. Drink, The bar was always full,     

the music loud.  It was always my shout and  there was always a chorus to sing,  and a game to play    

As for me, well I thought socially your skills were genuine........But they weren't  were they?

I should have known better after Poet  and you got rid of the Old MG,   I though the service was good,

but when the number became eight who were bullied emotionally to leave;  I started to wonder,

You know some of them were personal friends............. I  liked the story you told us. 

Finding Mum & the effort you put in to find her at work. Seems you really are a bastard after all.

I had hoped for a  little happiness for you;  just like what we had in that bandroom.  

I felt it was another moment in my life; like so many other moments that were happening to me....

And they were Good Moments for me,

But it was all the planning of which I could not understand. Did you gloat to each other? 

about destroying my happiness. Did you understand that  my daughters were used for your gain.

Did the three of you conspire,  the Buckles can't hold but the tension will stop so release.

What a good Mother?  to be apart of your discipline, or was it a part to use her too?  

Guess  "The Change"  already on its way. An awakening to the embellishment of facts

I  told everyone of  how happy we were for you, about  finding your Mum and there was this other story,

The same week........just as good,   What was it now,  Oh yes,  

Great looking woman welcomes the Buckles and I  into her new  showroom.

This  Sales Lady took us for a drive in this hot  new Lexus; and I mentioned what a good week I was having,

With all these stories of personal triumph. Well She said,  

"I have just found my father  alive  after 28 years;"  

She said that " This is second hand, a little  dramatized and embellished but true,"  

Apparently some Drama of  her Mother's affair in a small town of Tornleigh, France 

The Mother had incarcerated her real Father with some  Poet with legal orders for the sake of money.

"My  Mother had an affair with an Hourman and in that era society would not have accepted the situation."

So,  anyway she was traveling  to  France to Meet her Dad again. OO OOO  I thought?  Great Drama?

Magically,  somehow she had found her Father's love once more?  The mother had said that he was dead, 

and that he deserved to be, but the real truth has been discovered?  

She had found about her Mother's insidious plans with a Poet  

Wow I thought? would  she  think differently  about the Mother she grew up with and thought she knew?

said whilst driving she mentioned this word....Conditional love. 

A word I understood straight away 

The whole situation, selfishly, controlled by a greed over money and force

Anyway  to get on with it, I had two people in one week with great stories. 

And then Coupled to these two stories,  Ungus had found his life long love and I was so happy for him;

You finding your Mum  and well, this Sales lady finding Dad;   three stories that were each a pearler     

and  I had heard these three great stories all in the One week, all in that same room you were crooning in. 

The pictures are here somewhere. 

 So anyway Ungus got this God  almighty long Sms;  

                                           "Give him five grand  to see his Mother" and be creative about the deduction..

                                                                                              See to it tomorrow Mr. Accountant.

I had told that Sales lady about ME and Ungus as the test drive continued and I thought this was

another good ending to the unknown quantities of life, of the Ebb & Flow of  life?

and all of  these  stories I thought,  ......should be in a book and dramatized.  

Anyway, I was kinder jealous of you know as I had always known who my Mother was and yet the Hourman and Buckles had seemed to have used her in some way. 

A  Corporate  charity is always a good uplifting thing, formed on the spot in good will,

and  god damn,   it was a great cause;  Cause little old me needed to go.

And you know your buddy The Hourman!  Well he  fought  my intentions.  

I had made a commitment to your future  for the sake of  investing  in  my Company,  

Gosh if I'd only known the real me a little better,  

No need for justification, just a simple good intention that I always had for you and a  story that needed funding......          

Send a cheque Ungus,  tomorrow I demanded; The Power against force,  "We can't afford it !" cried the Poet.   

  "You have got to stop helping our employees"   Bla, Bla, Bla   

Anyway I thought I'd write and ask, 

How is your Mother? 

That verse from Patience was a classic.  "If I  knew you"    Great words;    you read it out to us and you cried,   

we hugged you genuinely with  joy.  We didn't treat you like the door mat ?

Isn't it good to reflect on the wonderful moments that are now gone?

For then can I keep  giving to you again and again, committed to the Drama, I don't think anyone will 

be able to trust you personally ever again. I certainly wouldn't, but that's irrelevant I guess

But you'll get over that.....Yep, looking back now,  I guess that  things  weren't all so real were they?  

for some of us anyway , especially since all this Drama started.......,The Spreadsheet to ruin I say,

And all  because of a Poet and me, I hope you know that you  are sacked as Christmas organizer......

Hopeless and profoundly boring were the comments that I heard.

So I thought I'd say G'day, I hope you are not working too hard at night reading everyone's emails 

Oh, and as you read my emails and have kept my mobile number active,  are there any messages that I may be entitled too? 

I really look forward to seeing you again, so cheers for now and Oh all the people I've been hanging out with wanted me to say " thanks very much..."