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Wednesday 7th January 2015.

I cannot recall that many January months i have lived through down the years that have not been trouble free, from the hands of Man, or the climate pouring scorn across the land, rolling across man as if falling autumn leaves are blown from the cusp of his hand..even Winnie The Poo has had to sway from his lofty stance on the bridge taking time to pause in throwing Poo Sticks whilst watching the river ebb under the bridge....he has had to think where are we going..is it time to pull on his tin helmet to face the possible storm brewing over a faith that cannot perhaps laugh either with the world or at it's self..there was a time when faith was in your heart and not on your sleave...I feel as if we are being forced to live breath this faith six inches from our nose you cannot escape it every day it is simply there, maybe not in the green country side but the big cities it pours from the brick work sucking as you pass..perhaps we are on our way back when the watch word across this land was the IRA....where if you saw a packet in the street you thought this is it....biff bash bosh...Perhaps Winnie The Poo..should make tiny badges of him self so we can sew them on our collars...stand together raise two fingers and mumble Kes.... six inches from our nose....So Goeth....

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bichoose
bichoose

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