I wrote Hill of Fools as a birthday present for Gina.
We'd been in Scotland, on the West Coast, in a big house with McMum and McDad, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews. And those huge hills just seemd to dwarf my stupid little human problems, with their thousands of years of solidity.
I started thinking about how I thought the song Fool on the Hill by the Beatles described my feelings of being 'outside' when I was a little girl and how much I used to identify with it; and now, it's the other way round; it seems to me that all the people who have tried to make me feel like the Fool, are the Fools themselves. The only problem is, they are still in control of everything, aren't they?
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