August amongst the grey slated roofs of the Manchester Basin has settled once more into the usual bucket of grey clouds with spotted showers..some people predicted in the tea leaves that the bright heat spot would continue until October some even that this past heat wave would be here every year until dooms day or that spiderman just might pull off a comic cartoon feat to spin sunshine past cabbages thrown off a giants table by their angry children.
The real feat is to try and not let this weather front cloth one in melancholy madness before the real test of that dreaded word whom tonight will not be mentioned in any form arrives. In a passing thought Rome was Trump..free in the blessing of cotton socks sometimes this blank screen likes to be talked to or else it throws wobbles into the mind causing mayhem with the words travelling through to the keys.
Today has been one of those dear me letters to myself written inside my head as i have drifted through my i-pod, sat in the window pouting on which book i can read past the first chapter and open up the can of worms which always follow when i try to find the next book so far this year i am on to my third which is a big wow improvement from my teen years when a good half dozen i would read a week in my miss spent youth when i progressed from Enid Blyton to Dennis Weatley and beyond both authors i think now are frowned on such was the glory of youth in the 60/70's....and more sadly are those books i left behind when i left the fractured home through the kitchen window forever in the clothes i was wearing. I have this week felt a slight bit emotional that speckled hen which crocks the corner of the eye, the reason why has escaped me,the thought silly billy to myself crossed the shadow was i in youth mode or simply the age of 62 now here with me......So Goeth