Back in Amsterdam

I woke unable to breathe. This only happens during sleep. At first, back in the early 90s, I had that problem during the day as well. I went to two doctors, neither of whom mentioned the magic word hyperventilation. Once you have a word, you can control a problem. But at night you are not there to take control.I got up early and noted down the melody that was in my mind. I drank a beer and made a sandwich.I enjoyed my trip to England mightily. Being in London was lovely. Particularly that area around Kings Cross where I used to live. But I loved also my trip to Spitalfields with Michael Bonaventure. I asked myself why I do not live in London still. When I left – in 1976 – it seemed logical to go. I left for Scotland. Then in 1988 I left Scotland for Holland. For a person of my type – godless, fragmented – it is only a sort of arrogance that says you can leave your homeland without consequences. But when one learns better, it is too late to repair the damage – life is a concert with no rehearsal.Yesterday I began a group of seven or eight songs on the theme of departure. I am writing them for some students to perform. I wrote four of the texts, including one on Iraq, using a similar form to the Lobster Quadrille.Can you see the soldiers’ facesAs they say goodbye to mumThere’s no need for airs and gracesWhen you’re marching to the drumAnd we ask the politicianAre you sure they have to goAre you sure about the missionAre you sure about the foeCan you see the soldiers’ facesAs they say goodbye to dadThere’s no need for airs and gracesWhen you’re feeling really badSo we ask the politicianAre you certain of the fightAre you certain of the missionAre you certain that it’s right