Life and beyond

I drove to Goring today.
Until now I only knew it as a picturesque spot by the Thames and used to ride through it on my motorbike.

Today I went to see the house where George Michael died. I still don't think I did it out of a star struck impulse. Realising its proximity to where I live, it was some compulsion to pay tribute in person.

There was a very quiet and respectful presence. A back street in a sleepy village, tucked away in the countryside. You can't help but feel like you are intruding a bit - drawn to a stranger's address and standing in front of a door which would never open for you.
It was the shared feeling of loss and respect that made it OK.