Wednesday, March 10, 2010


Peel eased the black Toyota Prius off the M11 and continued on across Essex. Thank God he didn't have to make this journey regularly like in the old days, before he started doing his programme via ISDN from Peel Acres. Still, it had been fun to visit some of the old watering holes in London. Walters would have enjoyed it. No-one had recognized him. Being dead had its compensations. Heart attack on a walking holiday in Peru? He'd thought no-one would ever believe that, but Pig said they would, and of course she was right. And no-one was going to look for him in the Essex badlands.

Pig would be asleep when he got back, but he'd get up early tomorrow and cook her breakfast. Couldn't afford to sleep in tomorrow anyway, had to get the March edition of Dandelion Radio online before the weekend. The music was the main thing of course, as always. All those new bands straining to be heard. But it was fun pretending to be all the different DJs, especially the occasional fake Dutch accent. A heck of a lot more fun than working for the BBC, that was for sure. It had just got worse and worse over the years. Home Truths was the killer, nice idea but eventually he just couldn't take the BBC bullshit any longer, and "death" had been a relief. Dandelion Radio was just about doing what he liked. A bit like the pirate days really, but totally legal. Of course, it didn't pay, but radio had never been about the money. And no more Top of the Pops bollocks either, although it had paid for the original Peel Acres. Yes, he wished he'd discovered this internet thing years earlier. It might have kept him alive.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Well, sort of. Oh, and Dandelion Radio, that's real too.