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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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Today’s been manic. . .
A client called me this morning at 9.00 and wanted me to meet for an appointment straight away!
I said ‘sure no problem’. . .’no problem at all!’. . .
Then, after I put the phone down I realised, that I had confirmed without checking my schedule for the day.
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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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I have just been downing a cup of caffeine, enjoying the rich velvety texture and the nostalgic aroma…
when one of the crisps I was eating found its way into a hole I have in one of my teeth!.
The pain was instant, & the reaction was acute. I grabbed my jaw, and with my tongue removed the offending crisp, smashed it against my back molars and swallowed. . .
It deserved it, causing me pain when I least expected it.
Then again, the crisp wasn’t to know about the hole in my tooth . . .was it!. . .
I’m sat in a cafe, pronounced ‘caf-A’, because it’s not a ‘greasy spoon!’ it’s a posh little gaff, nice seats, expensive scoff.
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I’m sat in this posh venue I can tell that it is posh because the leather seats are genuinely made of leather and the cost of my coffee tells me I must be drinking ‘gold leaf!’. . .
I’m not sure how to behave!. . .you see I’m so used to sitting on worn seats and in slightly weathered places. . .
I kind of feel a little. . .’uncomfortable!’. . .
I really want to take off my shoes and kick back. . .
I want to seriously ‘slob out’ on these expensive looking seats, but I’m sure it would be frowned upon, by the immaculately dressed staff! . .
It’s funny how with age we begin to understand ourselves!, what we like, what we don’t!. . .what makes us tick and what gives us the most enjoyment.
I recall the days when any venue would do as long as the drinks were cheap and the music loud!. . .
Now I’m a bit more selective. My ears won’t tolerate loud noise for a length of time. . .I’m fussy who I let sit at my table. . .and I am very selective with whom I talk to. . .
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I’m sat here having a coffee & I can hear someone having a right old laugh!.
Its funny the more I can hear them, the more I’m sat here grinning, I have no idea what they are laughing about but for some unknown reason my cheek muscles have stretched my jaw into a beaming smile. . .quite odd!. . .
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