In youth i used to luv lying in fields watching the racing clouds,hearing the drone of far away aircraft tilt through the blueness,the pull of the steam engines crawling up through the valley,the impossibility of hearing the groan of the fireman on the footplate caked in soot,yet it was as if he was sat there on the hillside,pulling out a sweet wrapper from his pocket.I remember being given a ride in a gravel pit wagon,fuck it you cannot do that today.
I could not help but think of Toyah Wilcox singing about life is a mystery,as i read one blog tonight,there is a time for jokes and a time for serious,however i shall leave it to the saccharine turtles to ponder that over night,hoping the serious does not invade the clear blue sky for ever.
