bichoose (bichoose) wrote,

Sunday 6th May 2018.

The white screen before me reaches out to give me a can only think that the mini heat wave that has hit the Manchester basin has cooked this machine into a soft humble jelly which for once makes me smile. I know this machine and myself go back along way a sort of companion along lifes rocky road, a refuge from the constant blight out side this rooms window where one can scribble words read into other lives go wow or sigh as they to walk the same rocky road.
I am almost now to the time when i can sit on at least one mountain top and just might catch a glimpse of the Last Samurai as my blue uniform is neatly almost bagged up for the final finish the official secrets act signed and that will be the moment that i will no longer trawl the streets pushing letters through post boxes..will i miss such a task...for the past couple of weeks such thoughts have been rolling around my head bumping into crazy ideas which have been lurking inside my mind for some time now...Today's postal service is for the younger generation whom wear face book in a miners helmet and cough drops in their pockets to work through the day in mindless road traffic and a management whom do not understand the word No....or even accept such...
Perhaps i will simply sit in the garden in my wrinkled stockings raise a glass of chardonnay sigh mull over the last 36 years of beef and bash, how each twist in the road well at least the ones i can recall have moved to this humble Transvestite i have grown into...Today is my Trinity Sunday...So Goeth...

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