Every step I took allowed me to put aside the troubles I held and release my senses. I kicked the dry leaves and they responded as a c***d knows, in ...n explosion of colours and noise, he he, still a c***d. I began to notice certain things, I could hear the distant scampering of footsteps, leaves rustling when there was no wind and the faintest smell of beautiful lily of the valley. Odd I thought to smell such sweetness in autumn. As a keen naturalist I strained to see what footsteps I could. The guy I was talking about is Jeremy Livingston, and at the time I laid eyes on him he was the lead vocalist for a small band called The Living at a small pub on the outskirts of Melbourne. He was gorgeous standing at 6’1 about 210lbs of pure muscle, deep brown eyes and dark brown hair. The pub was my usual haunt, the girls and I would go down on a Friday night for drinks and a dance, some of them would bring their boyfriends but I had been single for quite a while and never brought anyone. More

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