“You want me to go first?” Dirk held the hospital door open for Janine. “It’s the room at the end of the corridor,” he indicated with his beard.
She shrugged. “I don’t know if that will help. I still don’t know what I’m going to say. How I’m going to convince him to let it go this time, no reprisals.”
He put an arm around her shoulder and led her slowly towards the end of the corridor. “We can’t go in there with a plan. You know what he’s like. He hates other people having plans, make out? Agendas. If he thinks we’ve been conspiring against him, I scheme it’ll blow up in our faces. So just say what comes naturally, know what I mean?”
“Strangely, I do.” She smiled up at him. “Thanks, boss man. Ok, let’s do this.”
Dirk removed his arm and opened the door. Janine took a deep breath and stepped into the tiny room, smile fading as she scanned from the door to the window and back again to the empty bed. She turned to Dirk.
“Where is he?”
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“1982 arrived and with it came the Exploited and the new wave of British and soon to be joined by US Punk rock. Gone was the creativity and experimental art school pop culture Punk Rock. The new musik was far more aggressive and simpler in many ways than the Punk of 77 England.”
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Cheers.
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