bichoose (bichoose) wrote,
bichoose
bichoose

Sunday 9th February 2020.

I sit before this white blank page, am really not sure which way my panties feel or should i bother to scribble tonight i could almost whisper to myself today my mind has stumbled back into the 1960's...Barry Mcguire's...Eve of Destruction if slipping from the wireless would not be a shock, or a gosh have not heard that for ages syndrome melted inside my head. Perhaps Storm Ciara blowing through my garden this afternoon brought a rash of old ghosts with it, wearing flowers in their hair ...Perhaps whilst cooking the Sunday dinner my glass whispered please don't buy that cheap wine again please promise. And so i promise.
Never thought that i would be worried about the down fall of the BBC with the thoughts of scrapping the old beeb because Amazon and Sky Netflicks or what ever it's called can do...or what that clown Boris in number 10 is prancing about at. Jonathan Freedland spoke in Saturdays edtion of the Guardian over that other idiot across the pond Trumps antic's enough to make Lewis Carroll Blush. Perhaps i really should not have bought the newspaper and once more bury my head in the sand and have the rest of they year off from the Guardian and all the sad news which seems so constant at the moment, perhaps that is why my panties felt strange today....To all whom pass this way have a good week ahead love and peace..So Goeth..x
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