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Saturday 18th August 2018.

Jesus...My diary note book tells me today i was stood in Perth Western Australia in the year 2005, i cannot recall if it was to hot for a tie or not, i do know i was in my best uncreased shirt and shorts buried in deepest in my back pack only to be worn on this day, as i said farewell to my Uncle whom was in some ways like a dad...and for a good man there was only a hand full of us, which was not as tragic as himself giving up the will to live....which was the sadest of all..yet i could understand quite why sat out on a small sheep station along the great easten highway
I do not dwell on this particular day much...prefering to think of him in those good times with a bucket full of tinnies never having lost his English accent as well as a host of other times through out my young life which still make me chuckle, as i try to block out emptying his home for the last time as such thoughts begin to creep in my mind now as i scribble here, going to the local.. tip the charity shops..did i sell his car, or simply give it away,as i tried to take some of the best memory bits home to England. If there is such a thing as an after life i do hope on this day he has a tinnie in his hand whilst talking to one of those faiths that try and capture your mind when they knock on your door, he simply loved the challenge and would talk to them for hours on end... he is sadly missed So Goeth..

Thursday 16th August 2018.

Back in the long grass..one did not enquire a women's age at birthdays unless one knew the measurement of her inside leg...so i simply wished a happy birthday to some one i am quite fond of...whom thankfully knows that a transvestite is not found in a rock pool when crabbing along the coasts of the British Isles of which i am sure i can still scribble such wordings as we reach the time when super markets now plant the seed of back to school shopping. Once more the Manchester Basin has found time to be shedded in rain drops casting doubt on the word summer August is simply almost a swear word on the weather front...however one pulls up the collar first foot forward and bollocks to the falling rain, or else one would become a hermit wearing only balloons pink ones at that whilst riding pink elephants in a bid to stay sane. I would class today as soft going to good...four second hand books for two pounds Plus a Manchester City football shirt abandoned in a charity shop for three pounds...how sorry i felt for the shirt weeping amongst female cast offs  "buy me, buy me, get me outta this place, wear me on a football Saturday but please don't leave me here for old ladies to fondle and tut tut...at...the two lads serving smiled at my sense of humour thankfully...and the last charity shop had CD'S...at four for a pound..quite staggering for an old wrinkled stocking such as i, that likes to touch music and has a soft spot for this plastic disc..some cd's i understood, gathering dust in card board boxes heaped in a corner as if smelly socks, but how can one abandon...the one and only big bad Barry White....sigh....So Goeth...and as the weekend approaches all whom pass this way luv and peace and enjoy the weekend.. 

Tuesday 14th August 2018.

The weather outside this white blank screen does not warrent a few words about the sunshine heat wave in Rome or perhaps a picture took by my fair hand. Instead i will scribble across the keys as a mad one armed paper hanger which is nothing new i suspect.
August amongst the grey slated roofs of the Manchester Basin has settled once more into the usual bucket of grey clouds with spotted showers..some people predicted in the tea leaves that the bright heat spot would continue until October some even that this past heat wave would be here every year until dooms day  or that spiderman just might pull off a comic cartoon feat to spin sunshine past cabbages thrown off a giants table by their angry children.
The real feat is to try and not let this weather front cloth one in melancholy madness before the real test of that dreaded word whom tonight will not be mentioned in any form arrives. In a passing thought Rome was Trump..free in the blessing of cotton socks sometimes this blank screen likes to be talked to or else it throws wobbles into the mind causing mayhem with the words travelling through to the keys.
Today has been one of those dear me letters to myself written inside my head as i have drifted through my i-pod, sat in the window pouting on which book i can read past the first chapter and open up the can of worms which always follow when i try to find the next book so far this year i am on to my third which is a big wow improvement from my teen years when a good half dozen i would read a week in my miss spent youth when i progressed from Enid Blyton to Dennis Weatley and beyond both authors i think now are frowned on such was the glory of youth in the 60/70's....and more sadly are those books i left behind when i left the fractured home through the kitchen window forever in the clothes i was wearing. I have this week felt a slight bit emotional that speckled hen which crocks the corner of the eye, the reason why has escaped me,the thought silly billy to myself crossed the shadow was i in youth mode or simply the age of 62 now here with me......So Goeth

Sunday 12th August 2018.

Rome for a few scribbles more...and i did not throw any coins in Trevi Fountain, nor did i know the song three coins in a fountain was about Trevi..but i did wonder why people threw coins over their shoulder...This fountain hit the newspapers in England this weekend not for the beauty but simply for a brawl over the best selfie postions to stand in. In all i stood stared sat three times here...first time i liken it to a rowdy football crowd at an evening football match without the throwing of plastic pint pots of beer but if it had i would not have been surprised...this monster of a fountain is tightly packed in a tiny square only mice can dance across with any freedom...i found the best time was early morning as the sun began to rise above the city then one could sit and watch contemplate and indeed think wow...and perhaps wow again before taking a few snaps on this breath taking site...i did have that guilty school boy feeling that at such an hour i would be on my own in solitude however early dawn is a time for wedding photo's therefore not only did i ponder on the fountain but " is she really going out with him..." which i am sure is from a punk rock song in my dim past...but i might be wrong on that score
 the words simply floated into my mind as i sat there for a good while for one of those moments when back in England and the rain is sheeting down and the wind roaring in a gale as one thinks WTF..am indeed doing here in January when i could be sat on some endless beach in Western Australia. However i digress... as usual in this journal.Just out of the square is a small tea house of where i sampled a pot of tea on one of those days which are known as Dads Dads..days and i can safely say i am glad i spent a few days in Rome...My biggest like was finding little sheltering spots away from the maddening crowd i am still not used to the bustle of mass rapid humans waving selfie sticks as if hunting butterflies in the dark...perhaps one day being inside the in crowd might come back until that time..So Goeth.

Friday 10th August 2018.

Rome..is still inside my head aspects moments blobs or space cascade through my mind as i tramp through the day back home amongst the cobbles of the Manchester Basin, also a hand bag of words by an Amercian traveller ticking off his bucket list discribed, Such ticks struck from his list, as either mouth watering standing in awe, pour another bucket on me Saul thought...or simply WTF...standing in a car lot.... rush to the brain. I have to say those profound words standing in a car lot have grabbed my imagination and now clang each time my eyes venture forth where i should be awe struck about any point on the planet i should have a soft spot for.





Sadly this famous building in Rome was one of those car lot moments for myself...was it because of the film Gladiator did i really think chariots would be roaring around, or the words are you not entertained roaring in echoes across ancient stone work.Or more simply down to human throw away shite every where one looked, the amount of empty water bottles swiming about the streets could fill an ocean.. i could not help but stand there and wonder if this was Singapore..or The national trust in England how would it look and indeed would i be in awe rather than a parking lot, and a sad parking lot at that. This building deserves better...So Goeth.

Monday 6th August 2018.

I have said goodbye to Rome.The two sleeping men on hard stone steps as the sun began it's daily journey over the city the white T-Shirt girl on the black bycycle over black cobbles under Italian flags....the red buses crammed to the windows pressed hard to early morning worker bees rushing a kamikaze of peoples. The white taxi stand 48 Euro's to the airport on the doors lay in a silent queue. So many white polished stone steps worn down by feet of a thousand armies of peoples from the world and beyond. The dustbin men in their red carts. Builders with cement bags for posh buildings.



So Goeth...

Saturday 28th July 2018.

Goblins and Butterflies are at the centre of my mind....as during the early hours of the morning i have to strap myself inside a tin bus..and fly away to Rome for four days....all those thoughts about flying are running hell pelt over the horizon with gleeming big tooth smiles ready to bite my bum....Rome is not a city i would clap my hands at...however a drunken promise some years ago has come home to haunt me...the only plus some one else has dug deep into their pockets i am simply the pick pocket with a smile...I am still not used to crowds and i am sure Rome will be rammed with dark dogs in the noon day sun perhaps a penny for their thoughts will help me over this large crowd syndrome, how ever if not i will hide on a rest day amongst the galleries of pink Galahs, blow bubbles, slip into my I-pod..... twinkle through some odd tunes...So Goeth.......

Monday 23rd July 2018.

Suzanne...filtered through my I-pod on shuffle..i thought of the tea and oranges all the way from China...thought of a postal girl i once worked with whom went home one night closed the bedroom door and stabbed herself to death her name was Suzanne.....I was in Lisbon last summer stopped and watched a Busker by the river his voice along side his harmonica got under my skin...and still does, tonight..as his voice echoed around the kitchen i thought, could i live without my I-pod some people believe in God others perhaps..." so you think you can tell heaven from hell "....a soft foot fall of small jobs passed my day....a girl passed in a white T-Shirt..with " I Love Manchester " in large black letters and of coarse the red heart emblazed....perhaps there are voices in the seaweed...after all....So Goeth.

Sunday 22nd July 2018.

The weekend begins to draw up the clock faces in this room, whispering as the minute hand marches ever onwards, each clock is a few minutes behind each other, there are four in this room..the gentle repetitive tells myself i am into the last nine yards of my life...quite,if this is a comfort or a wake up call..is something i do not worry about but perhaps that would be a lie....What is a fact that since stopping climbing on the saddle of the weekly work horse the buzz of that friday feeling after 80 odd days has left me, again i am not sure whether to smile or simply sigh...all i know tonight i am sat at this here,......... machine, playing words through my mind and playing with photo's now after all these live journal years,trying to baffle just how, which sums up my modern tecno mind in the corner of a postage stamp. I have inserted this small union jack simply to grab some comfort away from the media flow of none stop EU rants poofing billy's as well as skyscraper words from Trump amd Putin....or should i print Sooty and Sweep....i wonder what old Churchill would say today...??...
However there has been some good vibes over the weekend....i attended Jodrell Bank Observatory Bluedot Festival on saturday..there is something about live music that cuts under the soul and for a time pushes out all the Goblins one gathers in the mind from various media, books,newspapers, clouted around the ears daily, if one lets such dribble fester on the brain.
This nice young man...is the lead singer to a Belgium band called Baloji....whom were Fab..to coin a word from my Youth,
So too the main reasons i arrived on the day headliners were Future Island a band from the big old USA..and have amassed a big following in England and were in deed Fab also along with home grown talant Gary Numan whom was simply surreal.
It was also a science festival with so much going of which most simply floated above my head into the broken clouds above. There were masses of children running shouting screaming, as i watched one or two i could not help but drift back to my own childishness when such delights were fought with words..." Children should be seen and not heard " which loomed rather tall in my family during the early sixties...they say  "sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt me "...how so wrong such a school play ground chant floated around school in those days.

Could this have been me in the sixties....lol...Perhaps...and gladly this festival was simply full of such....
To those whom pass this way luv and peace..and have a good week ahead...So Goeth....

Sunday 15th July 2018.

My work top diary informs me that today is St Swithin's day, across the Manchester Basin folklore will tell you whatever the weather falls apon this day...will last for forty days and forty nights..i have to tell you now that there is not a cloud in the sky and the temp will rise to a wowo wow...79F...the forecast for the morrow is well be low 79F..and rain one would wish that on this occassion that the folkore would come true rather than reality.....sigh...
Last night a saw a small post on Tumbla..asking how would the world be should the name Trump never be seen again...i have to admit a heavy sigh passed between me and this here machine...along with a weary smile.

I picked up this flyer a good few weeks ago which one could find scattered around in a good few tea houses which have sprung up thankfully in the northern quarter of the city....this saturdays Guardian seemed to simply on every page over his visit to England...i have to admit only the pictures i glanced at..as i am still a bit numb from the dreadful football of which that is going to be my last mention of the game....Also scattered around the City are fly posters for various events from eating chocolate cakes to fringe art work or concerts....the below says it all on the word Trump and the last Englishman in charge of Hong Kong is quoted as saying there is only two things that the English have given to the world...one is Association Football and the other are the words Fuck Off....

Sadly this is not me or even in my youth i was not blessed with a hairy chest..lol...but is simply a fly poster around the city of which i have a soft spot for ....this one was a for a band's gig...and has been cropped by myself but i think it suits the mood about the word Trump.
To all whom pass this way have a good week ahead...luv and peace...So Goeth.