Head Space Daily Words...

The scent of barbecuing chicken wafted through my nostrils this morning as I walked past the yard of Jerk Garden, a Carribean take away on Brockley Road. I was on my way to watch son number two at his football training. One touch, ball sits up nicely, right leg, knee bent, foot primed, blast. Bottom corner, net bulges, go on my son. Table tennis competitiveness this afternoon with son number one, accompanied by the tunes of Gilles Peterson, remembering Donald Byrd and celebrating the live vocal talents of Laura Mvula. It is a gift to be able to sing like an angel and it is a gift to be able to shake your ass like son number two...