Dear Adrian [old workmate]

[I butchered some of the lyrics, but you'll get the point]

I have two tapes in my shambolic Landcruiser wagon, but I will only listen to one of them: The Best of Cat Stevens. The other tape - The Best of UB40 - rests in the magazine slot of the driver's side door, destined never to be played again and, quite frankly, that tape is lucky it hasn't been smashed and burnt, such is my disdain for the band. I WAS happy to listen to it - after all, I bought it - until I read the tape cover during a quiet day and discovered they were white men - well one token black man and five or six white men. And they are English, not Jamaican. Who knew? Not me, and boy did I fly off the handle when I found out. Here I was all this time - years Adrian - with a picture in my head of three or four stoned Rastafari tapping on steel drums, up-strumming their guitars on the off-beat, laughing, crying, and eating two-minute noodles, and then I find out they are pasty white, skinny English geezers who wear dark sunglasses. Can you imagine my fury? I don't think you can, but you might get close if I tell you I paid $15 for that tape (and for Cat Stevens) from Kununurra Music, and that both had "45 rupees" stickers on them, meaning I should have paid around $1.50...

So given that UB40 is getting no airplay - I have resolved to burn that tape tomorrow when I brew my morning tea - and my radio doesn't work, it must be clear to you that I am hearing a lot of Cat Stevens at the moment. This is not an all-together bad thing, yours truly having been a fan for some time, but it would be fair to say that The Cat and I have been experiencing some turbulent times. I have begun to see The Cat as something more than a friend or a fling or a passing interest, and this kind of relationship change is not without its problems. Allow me to quote from The Cat's own work:

"Remember the days by the old school yard,
We used to laugh a lot.
Oh, don't you remember the days by the old school yard?

When we had simplicity,
And we had warm toast for tea,
And we laughed and needed love,
Yes I do, oh, and I remember you."

Don't you see Adrian? Can you fathom the relevance of those words to my situation; their astounding foresight? For years The Cat and I have had what one might call an open relationship: a bit of Cat here, a bit of Cat there; a bit of Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin or The Beatles or Jeff Buckley; a few weeks of silence; a bit more Cat beside the fire after a cask of port; and so on. It used to be so simple and carefree. I would generally just get drunk with the boys, have a bit of Cat, and then go to bed - no strings attached. I think Cat was just happy to be let out of the bag, so to speak. But now we're full-time, basically living together, and he wants more. Where before I just sang along, now he wants me to listen and understand. I'm not sure I want that, but The Cat's all I've got and silence is not an option - again, The Cat says it all:

"Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody.
I've got some money 'cause I just got paid.

Oh how I wish I had someone to talk to.
I'm in an awful way (he's in an awful way)."

Oh Cat, how can I question my need for you when you are so wise? I will always love you and need you - I can't believe I ever doubted it!

Sorry Adrian. I am trying harder to listen and understand The Cat. For instance, I am trying to piece together the puzzle of how The Cat became a convert to Islam: listening for clues in the songs, thinking about the year they were written. In songs like Morning Has Broken, Here Comes My Baby, and I Love My Dog, there is little hint at any religious awakening. Then there is what I call "the tipping point" songs, where The Cat is sombre and full of warnings - Wild World is the type-example. In these songs he is disenchanted, struggling, helpless, but in the third series he is reflective, as if looking back at the world he has left behind eg. Where do the Children Play. My ultimate goal is to find the actual specific drum beat where The Cat becomes Yousuf Islam, and I think I'm just about there.

The Cat IS giving me more love than ever, but we do still need a couple of hours apart each day, just to renew our feelings for one another. It's been good getting to know him more intimately - certainly better than 1/4-knowing 10,000 songs off an ipod. And, as with most occasions, he has the right words to end this letter:

"Whoever I'm with boy*, I'm always talking to you.
Always talking to you, but I can't think of right words to say.

And whenever I'm near boy*, I will put my arms around you.
Put my arms around you, like the sea around the shore."

Cant fit the rest [the page was running out]. Ciao.

* "Girl" in the song, but that wouldn't have made sense.