notes on Doc (cont.)
part III

 . .  Thinking back to sunday and meeting (Jean) Hackman . .  painful.   Only now can I dare to bear to begin to relate ... ??  Y'see how difficult .. .     So       sunday         Hackman

I'm there to have a bit of a chat with H, get her to sign  From Hollywood to Hand-knitted Sweaters  hopefully. 
And there's me perspiring like Worrall Thompson in a superstore.    Not from my encounter with a
'superstar' (Hackman) as such,  but from having to stand upright in a very tight space, in something we liked to call  
a phone box.       
plus ive already expended an unreasonable amount of energy remembering what they look like  then searching for one where theres no threat to all known forms of life from peaks of pointed glass   pools of putrid piss   - phone boxes not superstars -   then discovering one that uses what we used to cunningly call  money   and not those ponsey phonecards whose only real use ever was to get you through doors you werent meant to get through   then finding one whose chord wasnt cut or whose wires werent waving in the whistling wind   (see what I mean)    but then I think of a haunted Thompson vaunted no longer but broken  taunted with irredeemable cheese tokens   and confined to an even smaller smellier space perhaps for whatever time remains of a wretched whiny life      
so I shouldnt moan damit       ?should I     

...   particularly not when you're probably all wondering like I was on sunday  
 ! what in heaven's name might one be doing in a phone booth ? (on a sunday!)   
                                                                                                                                or words to that effect 


part IIII 
   . .     sorry I ..   difficult           last bit tho' !

Jean Hackman's rules of engagement:  she will talk only by telephone from a phone booth;  she will be in one box, you in another, distant one;  the conversation will be conducted with muffled/distorted voices. . .   (there is one more rule, but !hang on..) ..
Well, we start talking according to her conditions.  I suggest that this could be a film directed by that scouse bloke, Terence Davies;  we could call it    Distant Voices Spill Lies  
I thought that was quite witty to be honest but Hackman starts hacking her guts ?up  ..  what is with people these days that the mere mention of   Liverpool   induces in them all manner of apoplexy and other such coughing fits ?
I make a few more wisecracks but by and large they fly right over Jean's  head.     Then the bombshell!!
H inform that any autographed copy of her book will only be "delivered" via carrier pigeon.  
Of course, the weightiness of    From Hollywood ...    is understood    and result in  . . .    pigeon casualties       and my  (repressed!!!!)     memories             I'll say no more  
You see now why ..   . .                      yeah