Blowing It Read Online Free

it’s that old geezer who used to front Charisma and now look, he’s on a free bus pass, just like every other poor and needy oldie.” You can just see them, all ha ha ha, and who’d-a-thought-it.’
    ‘Hey, you’re not bloody Rod Stewart, you know! No one’s recognized you in ages. Perhaps they’d think you’d lost your licence and had to put your Ferrari collection into storage.’ Lottie started to clear away the remnants of their very late breakfast.
    ‘And I bet Rod filled in
his
bus pass form,’ she told Mac. ‘He’s your age and looking well up to snuff – he wouldn’t let a little thing like a council age-reminder get him down.’
    ‘Ah yes, but he’s a Scot. He’s not going to miss out on a freebie. So tell me then, where would a bus go that I’d want to get to?’
    Lottie thought for a minute. ‘India? Didn’t you used to be able to go to India from Amsterdam on the Magic Bus? I have a vague memory of ads in
Oz
and the
International Times
for hippie-trail transport.’
    Mac laughed. ‘I remember that – one of our sound techies got on a bus in Paris after a bender and ended up in Afghanistan. He thought he was on a coach trip to Versailles. I’m not sure how it would go down here though, getting on the local 170 and asking if they’re stopping in Katmandu.’
    Mac picked up the rest of the mail and headed for the kitchen door. ‘I’ll go and let the hens out on the way to having a look at the coriander. The bloke from The Candle at Both Ends said he needs some later today – he’s got a Thai special on this week. The organic-box people are coming to pick up a load of the flat-leaf parsley so I’ll sort that as well. And then I’m going to put a few hours in down at the studio. I’ve got a song on the go in here.’ He tapped the side of his head and grinned at her. ‘It might do for Robbie.’
    If only. Then they’d be talking pensions with a capital ‘P’ and even Ilex might shut up. Over the years since Charisma had gone their separate ways, several of Mac’s songs had been covered by other artists. ‘It might do for Robbie’, as in Williams, had become a running joke between them whenever Mac felt inspired to take himself off to his studio with a half-formed song in his head.
    Lottie loaded the dishwasher and noticed a new line of rust on the side of its door. The machine was probably well overdue for replacement and had done long and loyal service. A bit like me, Lottie thought, then re-considered. No, it’s not, she thought. I’m still OK. There was, if she thought about it, a good long list of Still-Haves and Still-Dos. She put an encouraging list together in her head as she wiped down the work-top.
    I still have: a full set of healthy teeth/a definite waist/an excellent sex life.
    I still don’t: leak when I cough/get puffed going upstairs/wish the world would slow down.
    I still: buy clothes from Jigsaw, Gap and Joseph/fancy Bob Geldof/wonder what I’ll be when I grow up.
    That last might not be a good thing, she decided. Surely, once the time with Charisma was over she’d already
been
what she was going to be when she was a grown-up, albeit an occupation that for her had only lasted about five years before family life and Holbrook House took over. You could take toddlers out on the road with you, especially to the summer festivals, but once school-age set in, she and Mac had decided it was time to give Ilex and Clover some home-time. And then there were the things she’d been since: restaurant owner, wolfhound breeder, racehorse supporter, painter, gallery-owner, and now herb-and-salad-crops grower. All of these were things they’d sort of fallen into by accident. Only the children and the house were the constants and with Sorrel about to leave school, what exactly was the point of holding on to a house of this size and this demanding? She felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of abandoning it, now that it had become needy and she had to remind herself that