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Saturday 2nd March 2019.

The few shards of sunshine have now sunk below the Manchester Basin the rush of rubber tyres outside this window have slowed, the eyes of March are searching...this i hope is the last winter month to bite the bullet on, to curse the weather forecast and when picking up a travel magazine in a supermarket yes i know the pictures in reality may not be real, however it still makes one ask on days like this why did indeed our forefathers stopped the clock to frolic through young fem's panties to produce generations in a such a depressing corner of the world. Even in on midsummers day one can still ask the same question.


As i fumble through this room still, in vain to try and make some sort of order amongst the higgle piggle i have gathered over the years, tagging on to must do lists long enough to reach the moon and back i came across this trip into nostalgia...this small infant is myself...in pencil on the back of this photo..is S'pore...3/56...which i presume the three is March and the year 1956...would trawl through my mind to be 63...years ago....The young lass was my nanny and that was the way it was during those days of which i can only whisper now in case the political police clamp me for whispering British Empire....There must be millions of such photo's gathering millions of tons of dust in all corners of the world in old biscuit tins, cardboard boxes, and such, sometimes i used to see them thrown out on to rubbish skips when i foot falled the streets as a Postman they always took my breath away as if they were throwing out a very soul...



Last Sunday i sat in this station once more not quite believing the sunshine pouring across my shoulders was real and to try and stop this old bugger in myself from casting clout every day and to try and think on the bright side each time i stare at this blank screen even though sometimes i feel a bucket of the author Bill Bryson's bucket of shit line in one of his early books there are times when i think i should not have read the darned book for those words alone...however the past is the past what else can one do except pull ones panties and busted bra tight...for onwards and upwards go thee...



Lastly before i retire to the swamp of the bed and let the nightly pink laced hob nailed boots of the Goblins give me a good kicking...just thought i'd post a mad piccy of my I-pod...one of of my favourite punk rock songs which always lifts my spirits even on a dire weather day such as today...So Goeth...luv and peace to all whom pass this way...

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
space_66
Mar. 3rd, 2019 01:39 pm (UTC)
Wow damn, you're cute!!
jasperslagoon
Mar. 4th, 2019 04:12 am (UTC)
The Skids .... taking copious notes.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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