Myron Myron

Because we are both committed to the rock 'n' roll lifestyle, last week The Antiquer and I went totally wild and saw Jerry Lewis while he was in town. I can't say my expectations were too high, but it was a terrific show and, hey, we can say we've seen Jerry Lewis. Just. Our seats were pretty far back. Even with my glasses on I was struggling.

After the show we dropped in on Initials in the Tree. He keeps somewhat vampiric hours so is amenable to a drop in at 10.30pm. As long as you don't interrupt his Black Mass, says The Antiquer. Anyway, I have it on good authority that he isn't actually Nosferatu, but I kept a thick scarf wrapped round my neck just in case.

So I think I mentioned before that Initials is a neat and tidy chap. And how! His house is chockers with interesting books and art and stuff but everything is so ordered and clean; nothing out of place, not even a stray shopping docket lying around; and not a speck of dust - how do people manage that? As I browsed the shelves I kept wondering if a curator would leap out at me from somewhere and tell me not to touch. We stayed until about 3.30am. I spent part of that time snoozing on the couch and The Antiquer and Initials compiled a list of everyone they had worked with in the years they worked together at an auctioneer's. Like I said: rock 'n' roll lifestyle. And Initials plays the guitar, so you know it's the real deal.

When he finally booted us out the door he was looking a little thin-lipped. I couldn't help but think we'd overstayed our welcome. Or maybe he was late for communing with Satan. Anyway, as we drove away it occurred to me that when he saw the book I'd left lying skewiff on the coffee table he was going to go mental. Nobody likes a selfish guest, right?

The next day I leapt out of bed and thought, "This place could do with a good dusting!" Instead I ate a bit of toast, spilling the crumbs everywhere, and went for a walk on the beach. Maybe some other time.