PART EIGHT I stare blankly out of yet another hotel room window at the start of a thirty-day tour of the UK. Yesterday Aberdeen, before that Dublin, tonight Manchester. Still struggling, still working, still searching. In front of me a computer screen stares back in the quiet of the early morning. The local church bells chime eight o'clock. Last night's empty Guinness cans lie strewn across the table. How I wish I was in my own bed sleeping instead of working. Time flashes by with no thought for our place in it. In the morning I get up and write. At lunch or close to it I drive to the next town with my longtime friend and minder Terry, always ready with a joke if he sees me down, Dave's latest release, Unfinished Business always ready to be silent when I need to talk, never missing a trick especially if there's a perk about. Bless him. At tour, a sound check; at nine, the show. At night I walk, think, write some more, sleep and hopefully dream of where I would really like to be. How I wish I was in a restaurant in Los Angeles with my dear friend John, drinking, laughing, talking about the world, philosophy, people, music, art, movies, yeah, especially movies. Or holding my little girl Lana in my arms, making her feel secure, lost in her innocence. Little baby Eddie, so soft, so sweetly sleeping. Walking in the Devon countryside, absorbing nature as it silently watches over me. That beautiful old Devon cottage where I thought I would eventually grow old, when I was ready to be old. How I wish I was with my sons. Feeling their strength, intelligence and exuberance. The deep warmth of their friendship, their unspoken love. Joking with their mates, their girlfriends. In my heart being twenty-five.

'Kink - An Autobiography'. By Dave Davies. Published by Hyperion Books (US) & Boxtree (UK) ©Dave Davies 1996