November 5th, 2020

Thursday 5th November 2020.

Usually on Guy Fawkes eve up to around midnight..biff, bosh. star spankled spanner fire works would light up the sky cascading colours up to perhaps the milky way, glasses would have chinked, bottle tops would have been popped, treakle toffee would pull out your fillings toffee apples would bring back childhood memories..Tonight there has only been a token, a half hearted few spurts a few grunted farts and maybe's, in rockets sent up into the sky, as i criss crossed the streets in the cobbled evening light tonight the thought of nothing more depressing in passing Pubs in the gloom of shutness, when usually a bonfire roar even in the carparks that thought to now carry a mask in the pocket every where one trawls the footfall through the urban sprawl has turned the word abysmal into a capital A..and lay heavy on my shoulders this evening riding my tiny red van.
The will,l the thought, might have been for tonight, especially as no rain has fallen across this basin of land, but the power of clamped movement rules, has brought WTF.. i feel for tonight. I do not think either, that people have sat through the bustle across the pond on whom is crowned into the white house i think really whom are we has sunk in as tiny ants in all this media hype about the White House and whom wears the comfy slippers in the near future..we are mere bubbles floating in the night sky.
I simply think people in this cool autumn light are also weary of the IT-Flu...with a wondering about the word Christmas, and sitting in a face mask on Christmas Day seems completely befuddled in an melancholy gargoyle tied with holly. Rather than the three kings following a bright star in the sky far brighter than all the fireworks across the land, to bring hope to all.

To all whom pass this way Love and Peace take care..So Goeth.