As spring ripens, i feel the need to climb out of the county of Cheshire if only for a few hours to roar down the motorway to the grey waving sea shore to breath in the unknown,to find my old friend King Canute.
There is a Saturday coming up i twist my fingers hoping overtime will not spill my dreams of getting away from this cult of red bricks dressed in a kimono so strong the dress not even the finest Japanese girl could hood wink away the vision from brick upon brick. Whilst i luv the City i also detest it,the grim and squalour is needless but that is my point of view as i stand throwing Poo sticks to the wind feeding the babbling brook which roams so strong through these old bones.
