This is home. This shoddy flat in Southsea/Eastney with the cold kitchen, divided from the lounge by the red framed windows and doors. The white grubby kitchen with the dirty hob and the crumbs on the floor. Ice monster living in the top of the fridge, occasionally melting into the salad compartment where the orange juice is kept. Above the fridge sit two boxes of vegetables. Right is Nick’s, left is mine. Ingredients for the week. Longer for onions. The shelves next to the cooking machine hold the staples – pasta, rice, muesli, dried fruit, herbs, spices, millet, bulgar – in jars and bags. I am a part time hippy and a part time fool. I am Adam on the eve of destruction. Nothing to hold me here but excuses and fear.