Rob Fleming

Grumpy. Broke.

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

WHICH FUCKING IAN GUY? https://t.co/tZdsyT0dw3

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

She asks me how I am and whether I'm looking after myself; she tells me that she doesn't think much of this Ian guy. We arrange to meet for a drink sometime next week.
I hang up.
Which fucking Ian guy?

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

She asks me how I am and whether I'm looking after myself; she tells me that she doesn't think much of this Ian guy. We arrange to meet for a drink sometime next week.
I hang up.
Which fucking Ian guy?

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

I phone Liz early afternoon. She's nice to me. She says what a good couple we made, that I have done Laura good, allowed her to have fun, given her an interest in something other than work - I'm interpreting. This is what she means, I think.

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

Maybe even include a picture of me on the inside cover, in the background somewhere, and I could watch her play live from the back, in the wings.

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

All my life I have wanted to have a relationship with a musician: I'd want her to write songs at home and ask me what I thought of them, and maybe include one of our private jokes in the lyrics, and thank me in the sleeve notes.

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

She'll clear it out soon, and the Marie Celestial air about the place - the half-read paperbacks on the bedside table and the knickers in the dirty clothes basket - will vanish.

[Rob Fleming @TopFiveRecords2]

I was worried about what it would be like, coming back to the flat tonight, but it's fine: the unreliable sense of well-being I've had since this morning is still with me. And, anyway, it won't always be like this, with all her things around.