So on Saturday I was watching some standard weekend telly (I think it was Saturday kitchen) and they mentioned that David Bowie had just turned 69 and the following went through my head:
'God, that's really old. I still fancy him I think. It was the Labyrinth that did it. I wonder if he'll die? Surely Bowie won't ever die?' I thought of him a few more times throughout the weekend and dreamt about The Man Who Went To Earth on Sunday night.
And then the first thing I heard on my alarm radio on Monday morning (literally the first thing - it came on mid news) that he'd died. I got a real chill. And now I feel awful! Although I know that it can't actually possibly be anything to do with me, it's still odd.