November 3rd, 2019

Sunday 3rd November 2019.

Guy on the rack, fire works stutter in the night sky already itchy fingers light the blue touch paper, bonfire night on November the no longer what it once was, the imported Halloween Bash from America has over taken the bonfire festival, trick and treat scary monsters, carved out faces on pumkins are more the norm, cups of tea, fireworks in the sky, a roaring bonfire a celebration that the catholic's did not blow up the houses of parliment in the 16C... no longer cuts it.. English traditions are dying...Black Sabbath sung about changes....todays Observer Sunday newspaper wrote words about the coming impeachment of Trump...a mass of words on the general election cascaded across most pages of the newspaper if Labour win i'll show my arse in Burtons window...if the working class don't get out of bed and vote then they will not...If the Tories win i shall be so sad over half my life has been the pain of living under Tory vermin....if they sell the the Americans then England is no more. Perhaps there is hope across the water in Elizabeth Warren.
Thirty years since the fall of the Berlin wall some say it should have never been pulled down others celebrate...those that buy Sunday Newpapers each week must have hard skin and deep minds the amount of gloom within the pages could fill Trumps underpants three times over...I think today as the first fog rolled across the Manchester Basin bringing thoughts of Bleaker Street by Simon and Garfunkel i shall refrain the Sunday Newspaper instead perhaps i'll simply hum to myself Bleaker Streat....and whisper on the wind. On a good note i came across an artful nude of Janis Joplin..think i'll say wow..and therefore So Goeth..Love And Peace to all whom pass this way this coming week.x