A note from Lucy: Oh my god this is really depressing. I have no idea where the angst came from. I was just listening to ‘A Promise’ by Broken Records and I got really in my feels. I suggest googling the meanings of the flowers. I thought it would add some happiness in there but honestly, I’m still a little broken.
“strangely enough, when i first found out i immediately put on my diplomatic hat ‘cos i knew i’d have to talk to radio stations, music papers, issue a press release and all that. i didn’t really start to mourn until the funeral itself. i didn’t start twitching and go weird until i saw the coffin, and then i got to the church and his mum burst out crying as soon as she saw me, saying she couldn’t believe he was gone, and this was a while after he died because they’d kept the body for an autopsy. i bit my lip all the way through the church service,“ he recalls. "but then when i looked down into the actual grave i couldn’t deal with it… it cracked me up. we were all standing there when sav turned and said 'has anybody got a plectrum?’. you know, just to throw into the grave and say 'there you go’ and not one of us had a fucking pick between us. we’ve normally got a pocket full of the bastards but right when we wanted one…nothing. that actually lightened things up a bit - i don’t mean we were laughing or anything - and it was 'ah well, typical bloody def leppard… ironic to the end’.”
“Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells…and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower…both strange and familiar.”
