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Tuesday 4th November 2014.

Is it really November..how can i tell the biff bash bosh..of fireworks in the night sky one Big woof...as eyes are sucked skywards, are they for the glory of Guy Fawkes...or is all that dead history now...perhaps it is the snappy cold mornings that have come over the hill and i can say for once slowly...old Jack Frost must have lost his finger nails in some lucky bag caught in the fridge door...or perhaps that i am indeed 59...in nine days time do i smile inwardly hold my breath or perhaps sigh look at the red and blue lines crawling up my legs and be thankful for dark stockings and oh yes a glass of Chardonnay and whisper so goeth to whom pass this way may November be sweet to you..so goeth.

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bichoose
bichoose

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