Tis but Friday..the weekend opens up, the last evening of spring bares it's horns and stabs deaf lettuces still lingering in the cabbage patch..i am perhaps half way through the year, today i drag it around as if a wet nappy full of wet fish..the word Blackpool springs to mind, the 60's rock and roll plays on the gold wireless station and turn-ups once more become fashionable in young girls on the eve of a new summer will they dance away or perhaps darn their socks….
I am half right, half there, and play in a box of chocolate frogs to the tune of Waltzing Matilda when i would rather tonight play in a box of cocks..the D-day landings have gone many a tear was shed but no engines pulled out the last trumpet as the remaining old boys came home for the last time. England are out of the World Cup..but then again there is no more England..it can only be found on a super market shelf..marked open behind closed curtains and tiny children have gone to bed to dream of sugar dummies and Blackpool….
I am not King Canute cannot stop the tide nor the advancing year therefore i will say a big Boooooo and throw Poo sticks towards the setting sun..God Bless all those whom have got this far and so Goeth to old Hugh…..