I seem to recall that i bought three copies, one i am sure i sent abroad to a friend,one rather tatty copy sits now by this whirling machine,the other i am not sure and use the excuse that age is snapping at my heels thus the mind has put such thoughts as to where the third copy could be to one side,so as not to trouble my mind as it slides ever nearer the pine box i might find myself lying in one day.
Has it really been ten years since i felt the warmth of such bound words fill me with hope,as i traveled home on the 330 bus....where has indeed the time gone.Will there be this year a reprint,will such an anniversary be broadcast,will MC-donalds produce..will Cola Cola blaze words on a can in this year when the human rights must be at its lowest ebb in sixty years, as the world treks through an " American Century " of war without end, to but quote from a recent article in the New Internationalist.Surely some people steering America, must have also played a part in such a making back in 1948...maybe the sense of history cannot be put on a can of fizzy pop.
Perhaps the articles should be printed on the side of evey bus on every dusty road crossing the planet,or perhaps those that wrote such words have changed their minds and that human rights should remain in the dark,the candle snuffed out millions of children still allowed to experience the madness of hunger and death before they could possibly glimpse the passing bus.
And then we have stood by the side of the road white garments a flapping the Archbishop of Canterbury is he trying to stop the bus,or indeed get on, journeying to enjoy the view,or is he trying to combat the spiders in his underpants.
