The weekend begins....it is time for bubbles floundering at the bottom of a wine bottle to be consumed...to muse on the world..the abstract crazy postion this planet now washes amongst strange oceans in....I am the captain of my ship...a hard tack in the shadows will mean only a tiny portion of media rubbish will filter through the next fory-eight hours...I have no time for the Pope or what he carries in his hand bag...perhaps reading to much history at school and the biff bash bosh of the IRA down around the bends of this fair land is enough for one lifetime...to dwell on what others think on him, should be worn in their hearts not tattooed across the globe, modern life is full of rage much of which comes from the media freedom of the press i sometimes wonder if i should be free from them...Three things my father told me not to argue over came in lucky bags with the words...Politics...Women...Faith....i would perhaps add Football...
Autumn...is beginning to kick in..leaves are drifting down..Inkspots are coming out and up from the leaf mould stark bright white they look stunning at birth....virgin in a blue sky..perhaps like ourselves, until someone puts a copy of either a King James..The Koran..a copy of the Financial Times in the pram..Life as we know it Jim becomes a blur...i prefer Winnie-The-Poo.....and tales from the River Bank...They haphazard in gait, drizzle more at ease in the world...So Goeth...