The salvage operation continues. This ended up in Young and Foolish of course, and there are parts of it that still make me quiver, shiver and smile. This re-post is almost neatly equidistant too: yet somehow the twelve years that have elapsed since I wrote it does not seem anything like the thirteen it had been between the summer of 1983 and that time of writing. Interestingly too some of the faces referred to in the piece have come back in the past year or so. If not exactly from the dead, then perhaps as near as damn it, and that is something to cherish. The ebb and flow of life, of time; not unlike the drifting tides of A Distant Shore itself. Or indeed, in any number of Tracey’s records since.