In the end Greg did it—“for the money”. At least that is what he says.

Nat told me the three days spent recording and mixing were unexpectedly pleasant. Just getting on with the task, as it were. Greg undertook this strenuous task with the blessings of his doctors, who probably sought to appease their patient in view of his misguided inclinations to take his custom elsewhere. They do not know what to make of Greg’s stringent use of the latest “imaging” and “visualisation” techniques for combating cancer imported from America. Such dabbling cannot be harmful, and belief in such vagaries may even have a placebo effect. I must swot up on these new phenomena.

The people from the studio were none too pleased or sympathetic with Greg for messing up the first recording session, at one point even suggesting a replacement bassist. Happily, Nat and Jim are not that cruel. Nor were the studio pleased with the music at first, until Jim, of all people, convinced them of its viability. The studio also had to ferry the three nonmusicians home each night to their respective abodes, which also irked. Finally it was Nat’s artwork and fiendish growling and wailing vocal extemporisations that saved the day.

Nat has seen his old friend Simeon recently. Simeon had a bad cold. “What’s this effect you have on people?” I queried. He chortled and glowered most theatrically. He must be missing his live appearances.

I shall not be able to see Nat for a while because of various extra commitments—army medicals etc.—and my week off hang-gliding.

SUN MAY 22

Nat’s friend Greg died on April 30th: Nat’s birthday.

Nat is left with a complicated array of emotions. The two friends had already parted acrimoniously, the last time they met being at the recording studio almost a month before. Nat does not seem too upset: he hasn’t wept at all, but then grief takes many forms.

I questioned him in great detail about the death. It was nothing like I had imagined. Greg had continued with the chemotherapy. He hadn’t opted for alternative medicine, which was the scenario I had pictured. Nat’s image of Greg, which he had passed on to me, was one of recovery. So rapid and unexpected a demise is always shocking, even when relayed second-hand and after much experience of death. Greg’s doctors remain baffled. Cobalt lymph node tests, body scans and the like revealed no further spread of cancer seedlings. The areas affected were not critical: primarily the chest but also, to a much lesser extent, the stomach. Even these tumours were thought to be under control. There was no residual cancer in the remaining testicle.