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THE SOUTHAMPTON HUNDREDS

28

On the way through Richmond we are pulled over by a police car. Oh this is just too much, says H., now starting to look noticeably ashen. But he summons up some officer class politesse and it was only a flickering rear light, and miraculously our man just smiles politely at the policeman and doesn’t say anything surreal. Two hours later, in the dead of night, we get back: our man disappears into his room for about two weeks, and then emerges, as right as rain. From now on we know him only as ‘Syd Barrett‘, much to his delight.