I did not really need the Met Office to tell me the season of Summer is over,you can already smell the decay coming up from flower stalks,the dripping perspiration on cars in the early morning before the sun has thought..ooohhh shall i pop out and warm the land,is there for all to see.I am still wearing shorts for work though for how much longer is hard to say as my body and mind come to grips of yet another nine months of dismal weather in front in the hope that four summers on the bounce will not fall into the bla...lisp twisted in convex tongues,is it any wonder why Britons flock abroad for sunshine wallowing in demented song and dance that comes attached. I seem to recall one Noel Coward..." mad dogs and Englishmen out in the noon day sun ".My biggest problem is will i sink into the pit of the forlorn hope regiment the heavy drawn over coat,the smell of death as each bunch of leaves is pulled through a kick here and there thoughts of childhood, when such things brought joy, comfort, in thoughts of bonfire night, conkers,hot baths,Doctor who in scary black and white, hot chocolate if one was good Cadburys.The unpolitical art of eating Fish and Chips in yesterdays headlines when one walked home with thin fog scudding under the street lights.Fish and chips now come so clean,the taste is now perhaps stuck in old memories.And Doctor who in colour the mind boggles at such. I am having an shuffle evening five CD's.. one Billy Bragg and four old Bruce Springsteen...secret garden..has vibrated up from the depths of down stairs perhaps if i find solitude in the secret garden the next dismal nine months might just pass me by...perhaps.or maybe i could hide in the ghost of tom joad for me one of his best releases but then i am daft anyway...
