Pretty ominous title isn’t it? But you know, text CAN be read in many different ways can’t it! Literally, as in, it’s true. NOT everything in this garden is rosy. There may be trees, grass, a shed or a gate. OR figuratively, like my life is a garden and not everything is beautiful and pleasing. … More Not everything in this garden is rosy
Empty streets, I walk around to find somewhere for food. The cafes, clubs and restaurants are all closed! That’s no good. If I want a roll, or slice, there’s plenty scope for that. But no! I want a full English. I crave the bacon fat. So, up and down I wander calm, all free from … More Morning in Durham
Yes it’s been a while (again) but lots of things have occurred in this life of mine, some good, some crap, but none bad. (Makes a change) anyhoo! The weather is on the turn …again. From ‘beast of the East’ to ‘the sun having fun’ around to ‘Windy Cindy’ (I just made that last one … More Rick (with a silent ‘P’)
It’s been ages, and I means AGES since I was last here in the Drift Cafe at creswell. My how it’s changed! Filled with grey hair everywhere, old men in Lycra, old wimmin in hairnets and brace hardy souls outside in the cold (it’s been warmer I can tell you) in, out, in the throng … More Back at the Drift
A couple of things today, yes you may have guessed that from the title, but I honestly wanted to go back to bed before I woke up!! I should have I know, but stupidity prevailed and I blindly stumbled from one fuck up to another. However, one thing that’s in a positive note, say hello … More A couple of things today
If it hasn’t been a while since I last put finger to screen. I had almost forgot I had a blog account as I’ve been busy writing stuff to get published in magazines and on other websites (don’t worry WordPress, I still l be you). I’m coming to the end of my Easter holidays (oh … More Bugger me with a pitchfork!
The urge to partake in a leisurely walk, Through streets of a market town up in the north. Prepare for the deluge of frivolous talk, With inane complaining, my rage is called forth. If life was a shower scene, Director: Hitchcock, Some bodies ‘neith patios the police would unearth. To close down this drivel, I … More A life in three verses
As the second hand tics its way round the face, The sounds of our timepieces beat our lament. One minute of life disappears. Not a trace Of a past that was filled with hope and intent. Intent to live long with illustrious grace, Not sullied with anger or sweetened torment. So don’t look on the … More PRIDE?
But to lose your love as I have, without thought. I should lay awake at night and beat my brow. Your lightest touch, your sweetest smile my heart sought. There’s nothing to look forward to in my life. Now Would you carry on? As though our love meant naught To you? I feel shame, I … More Poetry (with an itchy nose)
Christmas 2017, what a load of bollocks. No, seriously, bored, fed up, un-bothered AND I can’t wait for the next few days to come and go like an SAS patrol through Belfast. It all started when a few of us met up for food and talk the other day. The food was fantastic, some sort … More Thank fuck that’s done.