Last night I dreamt that it was Christmas Eve.

Jennifer and I were going last minute Christmas shopping, so we had decided to rise early. We were in the same bed. It should have been dark outside but, for some reason, the bedroom was full of light. When we looked out of the window we realised that it had been snowing. The streetlamps were bright yellow and the light was reflecting off the snow. So bright. Too bright.

Then we were at the shops. It was very busy. People were pushing trolleys full of toys and food. Slade's "Merry Christmas Everybody" was playing over the sound system. People were dressed in heavy boots and colourful jumpers. Somebody was handing out mulled wine. Jennfier told me to pace myself. She didn't want me drunk at 7am, as we had a long day ahead.

Then it was the evening. Jennifer and I had a gig booked at the Symphony Hall. It was the band Supertramp, recently reformed with Roger Hodgson back on lead vocals. I cannot remember anything about the show, but Jennifer said that she liked it a lot.

After the show, Jennifer and I walked slowly around Centenary Square, watching the ice skaters. We were wrapped up toasty against the cold. It started to snow. Jennifer and I kissed in the shade of a tree while the decorative lights in Centenary Square went on and off, on and off. Red and yellow and pink and green.

I woke up with a terrible feeling of sadness. Things that never were and probably will never be.

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Charlton Heston died on Saturday. He was 83.



I prefer not to remember Charlton Heston as the misguided demagogue of gun lovers everywhere. I prefer to remember Charlton Heston as the star of three of the best science fiction films of all time, made during a period of time when very few serious A-listers would give a science fiction script even a cursory look.

So, the star of "Planet Of The Apes", "The Omega Man" and "Soylent Green", I salute you. Rest in peace.