Tuesday is the day when the Forlorn Hope Regiment Sargent beams his biggest smile,breaths out his huge chest,puffs out his ball sac of wants,opens his hand with the kings shilling, glinting in the paper sunlight shredded in the gusset sky.
I have promised myself that this winters onslaught will not find me,taking the shilling for the dank opiate months to ravage in wallowing melancholy,firing musket balls,from the front rank not of lead, but dreams crimsoned in fog,to do lists written in spring,somehow now blowin in the visions snaked from leaves that are green.As the summer months have drifted so quickly through clutching hands.It will not be easy..two episodes this week have made the kings shilling sparkle...Maggie Thatcher....and she wore red!!!...should i scream or piss..Billy Bragg..yes i liked that, must blow off the dust and play some this coming weekend...the downed aircraft in Phuket..made me wince,with sadness.So near to warmth,sunlight and all that such a name as Phuket brings to mind.