I don't carry that many regrets around. There's no black book. I have my what-if days from time to time, the odd sleepless night. All in all, not too bad; of course, regret is acutely personal, infinitely variable, and can drop out of a clear sky without warning. There's untold millions labouring under the yoke of "why did n't I do this / that / it ? ". It's like so many things in life, it's how you respond; even the hardiest of people have their times.

To the question of where is this meandering towards, what are my regrets then? Here's a handful of I should haves (to be worthy of the description, regret in it's fullest glory has to be something you had the opportunity of attaining, but never did and will never do; it's that which gives regret it's deepest pang). I wish I had seen the Jam, the Grateful Dead, and most definitely why did I never see the Clash. Out of this trio, it's the latter I most regret. That's the one I really should have seen through. The further the years stretch between when I could have seen them makes that one a real ache. There's no hope of any of them happening now, untimely death or estrangement has closed the book on all of that.

I have a few other regrets, how unusual if I was n't to say that they were n't around relationships. Unsurprisingly, it's these that sometimes knock me cold. They appear from nowhere and sometimes leave only with effort. Most of the handful, that's all they amount to now, I can rationalise away and as the distance deepens, they shed their potency little by little. There's only one I feel will never leave, I'll take wherever I go, it'll be with me the day I'm discussing access arrangements with St Peter. It's somebody I wish I had met years ago, and sometimes wish I'd never met at all. It's that kind of yearning ache.