bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Wednesday 1st February 2017.

I no longer have to scribble the word January for another seems to be a month along with wrinkled stockings that i hear constant greetings of the Grim Reaper from people whom pass me by, they mention it as if buying a pair of socks.. adding so and so.... as they tell you the colour of such socks,i remember hearing little old ladies full of such chatter on the buses my youth carried me through, now here i am at that age myself my youth gone and i can no longer discard such utterings as nothing but hairy catterpillars on the march for toasted toadstools i once used to by day dreaming as the world passed beyond my bus seat window pushing the little old ladies words to the bottom of cornflake packets left on the bus seat...
Now i think Wow...not much time left for me to ride the bucket to utopia....better find some wooden spoons to spank the monkey, shy away from those whom love to dwell as living dolls in the obituary columns found in daily papers...
One such paper this morning shouted out loud in stark headlines that another Thatcher era is to begin...with a heavy sigh i bid the world a good night Take care all and hope the words are just good enough to wrap fish and chips in....So Goeth...

  • Thursday 12th May 2022.

    I think i need to poke my head out of the front door smell the coffee, hold my hand out to feel as if it is raining them pull on my busted stockings…

  • Monday 9th May 2022.

    Today i have started my second week without a reminder to pull on my blue uniform...i do not miss it..or am i lying to myself, perhaps... i do not…

  • Tuesday 3rd May 2022.

    I no longer drive one of these.... My blue uniform is now gathered up, old bits, new bits, consisting of shirts, high viz vests, which i always…

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