noahs ark

supersaturated soggyiness. my shorts absorbed so much moisture on the cycle voyage to work that they heffalump weighed me down.
better off in a pedalo.
luckily tho’ i have a dressing up box below my box and have donned my emergency colourful hippy flares
the raindrops were huge globule projectiles ‘honey i shrunk the kids’
drowndead rats,fur plastered to scalp by any estimate two glastonburys worth of rain in half an hour
the water was pummel gushing off the roof of the Concorde, I mused Tarzan Johnny Weissmuller style behind the bead curtain of a waterfall
….aprés moi le deluge as the little fella said


Shoreham houseboats to be precise
took the kids to Shoreham beach at the weekend, enticed by the allure of miles of golden sand.
…well when the tide goes out it’s a good flat stretch of ooze squelch mud
good for playing boules, kid safe wading in the ocean …and quite beautiful in a lip gloss sheen kinda way
lug worms!
while we were down there went for a gander at the houseboats
some of them are amazing!


from a post
where is the best place in town to buy proscuitto please?


if ’tis lord and lady foy and young lady fauntle-foy?
shurely no need to ‘ham’ it up for them

Jeffrey Archer?

cultured? like pennicilin

is that veggie bacon any good? fake-on or something
curiously it’s never really appealed, like a pack of frazzles in a pan?
i like my veggie sausages to make little pretence to be anything like meat sausages
and micro knitted protein?? whats that about? bobble hats. something to do with the mysterious crochet club. who knows


yes i have heard that the crochet club have been involved in knitting soya mince bonnets.

bird swirl starling swoop

a lovely piccie!

and, if you fancy it some words. futile yet exuberant
do the starlings still do their sun down dance? beautiful
you know the waft… and the weave …and the weft of complex patterns
the bath water swirl as they glide across the $ky

where do they live?
you know, now that the west pier has burnt, a sparkler fizzled to a rusty coat hanger remnant
i know some have taken up residence down the further ruffian end of Rugby Place
others i’ve heard over the water, beneath the Wetherspoons at the marina (cicada chirruping for cheap beer?)

what is a horde of starlings called? gaggle of geese. coven of crows

Once I was hitch hiking home across France, got dropped by a cathedral at sunset.
Metz mebbe? le’s say Reims – bubbleicious
free, but encumbered, fulcrum of mood, excited yet knowing no-one, with nowhere to sleep for the night
Quasimodo, back pack hunchback across the square, head back, look up
zut alors!
marvel at the full laden swollen belly of grey rain clouds. apricot and rosé tinged fringes
there swooped thousands of starlings,
yet somehow brain numbing, like doing difficult sums in your head
the liquid gyrations of quadratic equations.
err .. programmatically incorrect… yet totally Boolean Dude!

…. after a response

aha a murmuring of starlings, thanks aidan
i think tho’ i’ll stick with my original ‘horde’, mostly because it makes me think of a barbarian rabble, Attila the Hun
(Atilla the pun in steves case)

I once discovered that the huns warriors outfit was actually made from voles and field mice, loads of them all fiddley patch work stitched together!

huh.. not so scary now, are you Attila!

… one of the kids at the Steiner school is called Attila too

on the beach in Thailand

…..response to a post

kissing frogs is probably bad enuff.. but snakes. yikes!

well… i would recommend books utterly nowt to do with thailand or travel
wherever you are books should be portals for escape, passport for daydreams… that sort of malarkey!
so if your somewhere exotic and sunny, lounge sprawled in a hammock, it’s good to read about rain and grey and post war austerity britain
when i was in asia, i was more like a pack mule portable library, what with the burden of literature, my toy collection and the inflatable frog, impossible to travel light, used to take at least a week to summon the gumption to pack my bag up again and hoik hoist it back onto my back. ever loathe to stir.
somethings i read back then:

‘The biography of malcolm X’ – malc and that bloke who wrote Roots
‘Tess of the D’Urbevilles’ – the endings a bit hammy
‘High Windows’ – poems by Pip Larkin
Herzog – Saul Bellow
‘The Secret Agent’ Conrad, Victorian anarchists blowing up the Greenwich observatory

maybe Siddhartha

there a suitably glum selection

buckle me swashes

might well have been mentioned afore
All invited to drinks in the Sidewinder after work on Friday, traditional, it will be PeteC’s birthday (bowls playing Richard Briers lookie alike in the web team) and Huw is leaving and Jen leaving too (awww!), Epic will sadly be completely devoid of it’s quota of Canadians.
Like Ravens at the Tower? i ‘spect the building will fall down

i was 42 yesterday ‘Life the universe and everything’, cakes all round tomorrow.
that would also be my double 21st birthday!
…..just an excuse to waffle about what i was doing 21 years ago
from an old email

…..the Sydney Swans were an aussie rules footie team, aussie rules was only really ever played around a wallow in the mud of Melbourne, but the Swans were set up amidst much Razzamatazz to bring the game to Sydney

I was employed as one of the half time entertainers, dressed as Zorro, I got to prance around the pitch in front of 40 000 people at the Syney Cricket Ground
twirl of cape, swish of sword. what a delightful hoopla!
30 bucks, free scoff, as much beer as you could drink …and you got to watch the game
the only problem being that everybody fancied Queen Cleopatra, my friends Darth Vader and Dracula nearly came to blows over her!

I became a regular, my defining roles were:
once as a furry penguin, I had to waddle race against Joe Bugner, up and down the pitch, both of us pushing giant inflatable balls.
Joe Bugner, a british (brutish?!) boxer from the 70’s had once fought Mohammed Ali for the heavyweight crown of the world.
having emigrated to Australia he’d obviously fallen on hard times.
I took an early lead, but then recklessly decided to ham it up… just a teensy bit, jumping up and down, flapping my wings and waggling my tail feathers at Mr Bugner.
‘It’s a Knockout!’ no, not from a punch, but i tripped, sprawled on the grass and Joe rolled his inflatable ball straight over the top of me!

oh and the other one was when i had to dress up as a mad axeman executioner, we had to dance with the Sydney swannettes, the cheerleaders to the Rocky Horror picture show song

all together now:

It’s just a jump to the left.
And then a step to the right.

With your hands on your hips.

You bring your knees in tight.
But it’s the pelvic thrust
That really drives you insane.
Let’s do the time-warp again.
Let’s do the time-warp again.