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There is something mesmerising about each layer of snow, the way they compact and hold together on each uniquely crafted branch with adhesive icicles . . .
. . . Fascinating. . .
Today I climbed a mountain, the air was crisp and the pathway strewn with footprints of many walkers each treading the path that lay before my trudging boots. Judging by the depths of the varying indents, the size and stature of those that previously walked the blizzard like snow, varied immensely.
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I’m sat waiting for the rice to finish cooking, it’s part of a delicious dish I’m cooking, judging by the aroma that the slaughtered chicken is producing, now that the fleshy morsels have been dusted with herbs, it’s going to be delightful. . .
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The other day I sat chatting with a few mates, and the topic of discussion was, ‘What is a Real Man!’
It was quite a straight forward question but the conversation seemed to be stuck in a groove of uncertainty.
You could sense the unease, you could see beads of perspiration forming on foreheads, it was as if the question was too dangerous to handle. . .
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‘They hurt you . . .I know!. . .they really hurt you!’. . .
I heard the words that dribbled from their mouth last week, when they thought we couldn’t hear!.
They were harsh words, barbed words and each one delivered with such force. . .
Shocked, I watched you hide in the doorway shadows, dying with each exhale of their mouths.
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Go stand by the window!. . .open it!. . .look onto the streets!. . .
Do you see?. . .
Somewhere there is someone being murdered, somewhere there is someone giving their flesh against their will. . .
Somewhere there is someone losing the fight against addictions
Somewhere there is someone selling an addiction to someone that is desperate for escape. . .
Somewhere near you there is some one weeping for release from the agony of a shattered heart. . .
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Escalators!. . .are seriously cool!. . .
I have just been down two massive escalators.
As I was going down I remembered a mate of mine telling me, how he used to slide down the side railings and how the security used to give chase!. . . Yes, I have some very crazy mates!. . .
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I’m sat in a cafe, and it’s narcotic, I’m guessing from the decor that its trying to relive the past.
I’m almost a quarter of the way through my bacon sandwich, it’s nice, but I should have indulged in a full breakfast. You see, the table adjacent to mine did, and now they are gorging themselves on fodder that could have been mine.
And as I paused between the last and next mouthful a wave of nostalgia washed over me.
I have just been to the cobblers to have the heels of my boots fixed, they were in desperate need of work due to the mileage they have recently completed.
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I’m know watching tables empty and tables refill, and I’m wondering how many of those who have stuffed their faces, quenched their thirst remember the ‘Good old days?’. . .
I chuckle to myself why do we call them the ‘good old days’ as if time now elapsed was full of life more vigorous more fulfilling than these days we now occupy?.
. . .’very peculiar!’. . .
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A lady is rummaging through her historic looking bag, she has a desperate, anxious look upon her weather worn face.
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We’re preparing to ‘Kick Start’ our sporting activities and meetings, get involved, join the team.
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The Football Player
There’s a young man called Phil’, he lives on the local council estate and works as a delivery man. Phil is mad about football he’s played since he was able to walk and supports the local red team.
At the age of 18 Phil had a trial for a lower league team, and signed on to the team and began to play on a regular basis. Phil’ now earns good money, more than he has ever made before. He is popular, he’s seen by thousands of people on a match day, not just by the locals on his street, and he has loads of new mates.
Party Life
Christian Men United 
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