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  • I met Richard when I moved to Hackney after graduating Goldsmiths' art college in 1990. It was a crazy time and I wanted somewhere to make big art. When I moved into a new flat I found there was an old rag trade building hidden in the alley behind my house. It was called Temple Works. That seemed appropriate. Swift entry was effected with a crowbar and four years of glorious creation was unleashed. I also found I had a neighbour. In a tiny brick building that my huge warehouse enveloped lived a tall smart funny guy called Richard. I told him he was living in my potting shed. I controlled his water and power supply through my squat. We became friends. He moved out of the potting shed and into a house up the road with his girlfriend. He went to art college himself. They got married and I got horribly drunk at the wedding. He got down on one knee and sang Love me tender to his new wife. I recorded the moment. We had babies. I started internet companies that grew and grew. He became a coding whiz, something that was always beyond me. They moved to the states with their son, to San Francisco. It was the most natural thing.
    Last year, a tumour, never named (well, named Barry actually, but that's another thing). Remision. Life. Relapse. And then, the other day, an email.

    We British are well known for the notion of the "stiff upper lip".

    So it was bad news at the doctors the other day. It would seem that the old brain tumor has gone ballistic. As has happened before there has been a mutation and the new type of tumor cells are growing very rapidly. This was pretty obvious from the difference between today's scan and the one a couple of months ago. I'm going to do another round of chemo, starting very soon. if this doesn't work the doctor reckons that its going to do me in in a matter of months not years which is a nuisance and has made a complete mess of my calendar.

    Tomorrow we'll talk on Skype.
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