I sent a letter to Razor care of the Sheppy Prison Cluster the week before last.  I enclosed his glasses and asked if he could complete a visitor order, which I now know is the protocol.  To date I have heard nothing back anf my time here in the UK is running out.

I fly to Lanzarote on Sunday morning to start my Scuba internship with Calypso Diving.

I don't think I am to get my guitar or hat back which is a shame.

Over the last week my house has had a makeover, with assistance being provided by dad's wife, my sister and a new vagabond pal, who has made her way around Africa and South America over the last seven years.  All have worked really hard to clear out my gaff.

Ultimately six boxes of precious things made their way into the attic, whilst 22 black bags of belongings (from downstairs alone) were taken to the tip.

I loved the hat for all it and its feather symbolized which I have already described to you in previous articles.  I also loved the guitar, remembering Loz, Christina and others playing it in the Petts Wood House after mum died when I got drunk for a week, following Loz's dad's wedding. 

The guitar also brings memories of Dave singing 'the Duck song' and the only song anyone has ever written about me, 'Lloyd stole my midget' – brilliant!

It is concluded by all and agreed by me (the rational side of my personality anyhow) that I do have some 'letting go issues'.  "What's wrong with that?" my alter ego screams inside my head?

Maybe the hat and guitar are just two examples of this and maybe its karma that 'Razor the hat thief' does not write back, maybe without the prompts I my memories need to be relied upon more for what they are – glorious memories, whilst life moves on.