Peter Goers

You're just walking through motions here.

In what way?

Suddenly, without them, it was a shell.

It almost, you know, it just wasn't the same.

You know, the soul had gone out of it.

It was like a corpse then.

Perhaps that I told them to go to New Orleans.

You know, because they'd been to New York first and it was my love of Tennessee Williams and, you know, that whole metier that I said, I think I said, you know, go there.

That's one regret that you have and some sense of guilt.

No, that was a regret.

I didn't even know they'd gone.

And it was some days I think I spoke to my sister and she said, oh, you know, you realise they've gone overseas.

I knew they were going but I had no idea that they had gone and they lived in the next street.

So I never said goodbye.

And I never said thank you.

I never said thank you for all you've given me.

Thank you for all this love.

Thank you for all this opportunity of my life.

And goodbye.

So the book is essentially a delayed, a much delayed, a long goodbye, I suppose.