Tuesday, 5th August 1975. 4 p.m. It meant I'd disappeared from their lives one year and two months ago. Such a long time, no doubt. I hadn't got any guarantees of how this would go. But before this, there had been two tours: America in February and Japan in April. None of these dates seemed to me appealing. I had entertained the idea of made it on 24th August because I knew quite well it was the exact date in which they arrived to Rockfield Studios in Wales. But then I shrank back because I thought those very intense weeks just dedicated exclusively to Bohemian Rhapsody weren't the right moment to make my resurrection.
Ridge Farm was one of the first housing development for the musicians could record and live there with no need to disconnect. At this stage had been there a bunch of musicians but not too many because the year Queen arrived was its first year. But within the years would start to pass by a lot of bands around here. Therefore if its walls had spoken today they would tell some amazing gothic tales.
It took me quite a while to choose the exact date in which I would land at Ridge Farm. No matter how much I did research there was no way to find something minimally reliable. I just had clear that Queen had been there previously their arrival to Rockfield on 24th August. I was not quite sure if between both locations they stayed in London.
As usual, I walked a tightrope and had to decide a more or less feasible date in August, but with no documentation which supported me. I didn't want coming up short and overdo it neither so starting August seemed to me right.
This time luckily the application obeyed me and I emerged in the exact date where I clicked. But as usual, the landing places use to be exotic and unexpected although always discreet. Having the chance to rearrange my brain slowly and assimilate I had completed the travel successfully.
This time I looked around and checked out I found myself into a huge full pack with supplies cupboard. Fine, that was infinitely better than landing at a broom closet smelling like disinfectant and the extatic noises of Freddie in the background.
On seeing so much food around me I noticed I was starving. It used to be a side effect of the travel. I grabbed one of the spotted jars of honey and stepped out carefully from the cupboard.
Before my eyes I could see a beautiful kitchen. Tiny, rural, colourful. With pots and pans without scrubbing piled up in the sink and remains of food here and there. I opened the jar and start to taste that delicious honey like a glutton teddie bear.
- Shut your fucking mouth up, ok? Don't talk about things you don't know.
I could hear those words in the distance. Some voices came closer to the kitchen. They seemed to argue, although not shouting. A simple disagreement.
I placed my stretched palms over the cold worktop facing my honey jar by the middle and looked at the door, expectant.
- Fuck... Fucking hell -it was the first thing I heard.
There he was, the most explosive blonde in the whole universe. Roger with his messy hair a little longer, the shirt open showing his bare chest and a pair of bell-bottomed jeans a litte bit ragged down below. He looked at me as though I was a ghost and I shrank my toes not daring to tell anything.
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