captain situation turns up, heads straight to my fridge, 'fucking starving man, what you got in here.'
i start to speak but he's already munching into my watermelon, red juice dribbles down his chin.
'you look like the walking dead.'
'thanks mission, you look like a fucking aboriginal, you gone native on me, what's going on? 
'i went native a while back, look can i get you a plate?'
he shakes his head, slurps up some excess juice and wanders around, 'jesus man, what is this place?'
'home, it's home.'
he nods his head approvingly, 'nice, very nice.'
'want a drink?'
'what ya got?'
'coconut water, basil seed drink, water,'
'no rum?'
'no.'
he makes a strange grunting noise then shakes his head. 
he pulls out a bag of powder from his coat, throws it at me.
'what is this?'
'it's yer top shelf gear innit.'
i chuck it back.
'what's the deal with you man?'
'no deal. got any weed?'
so we skin up, he does what he calls a north london four skin, four rolling papers joined seamlessly together for one huge spliff. we sit and smoke it in the garden, 'it's chilled out here man, peaceful,' he leans back and lays on the decking.
'yeah well i like a little peace.'
'i could get used to this, maybe it's time to settle down somewhere.'
'well, it's working for me.'
but captain situation is sleeping in the sunlight, tranquillity faced and a slight smile on his lips.
it's the first time i ever saw him so relaxed, he's usually deranged and manic, like some sort of weird actor playing all the roles, he does to much coke, he drinks and is ruthless with his women, i don't like him much but at the moment he's at peace.