The last time I was in Homerton, Paul was driving me, my better half and our baby home, playing that mix in his car after the daughter’s arrival. This was after 3 or 4 seriously trippy days, spending all day on the ward, coming home listening to Spacemen 3 and 23 Skidoo on headphones – to an empty flat soon to be filled with new life.

3 months previously a heavily pregnant better half was pounding on the door of Jah Tubbys studio to ask them about their siren effects unit.

Early 90s – serious mayhem in an abandoned warehouse, candles flickering on top of a soon to be trashed television set.

Mid 90s – Goal Magazine show up for a game of 3-sided football during Hackney Anarchy Week.

Last Thursday, 9:00am, I’m there again, this time in the Rapid Referral Chest Pain Unit. Does exactly what it says on the tin.

“I’ve got these chest pains, see? And some pain in my left arm.”

[…]

“Yeah, she’s got high blood pressure – her Mum died of it”

[…]

“No, he died in the war”

“Do you take any drugs?”

“[censored]”

“…uh, well, do you take cocaine?”

“No!”

Next thing I know, there’s about 16 electrodes strapped on my chest and I’m running full pelt on a fucking treadmill, sticking my arm out at intervals so they can test my blood pressure with one of those comedy inflatable arm bands (The “3rd Reich vs It’s a Knockout” look). And obviously, they explain to you that you can stop any time you like, but you carry on regardless, partly because you don’t want to look like a weedy git in front of the nurse and partly because you think that actually this would be a pretty good place to collapse in a heap, gasping for breath while your old ticker decides to give up the ghost, so why not?

Then sitting down, panting, watching the readout, I notice the room across the corridor. A big grey nameplate – “The Echo Lab”. Paging Dr Tubby… How cool would be to spend Thursday morning in the echo lab, listening to the own sound of your mutant heartbeat pinging away like sonar, the good Doctor adding echo and reverb accordingly?

I never made it there, though, ‘cos there’s nothing wrong with my heart. So I’ve still got pains in my chest, but I’m not about to pop off at any second because of them. Ha! Let’s ‘ave it…