Author: basgallop

WOW! that is a gobsmacking result, extraordinary!!
young people voted… in their droves… and they voted SOCIALIST, hurrah!
well done!!! (sayeth grandpa, and wouldn’t classify myself as a socialist)
and this against a backdrop of the ukip vote imploding and mostly trundling to the conservatives
kudos to corbyn, personally i thought he had no chance, michael foot rebooted
may is toast!
stayed up far too late, and lewes result was pants, so near in hastings, bad luck
but look at what happened in all the brighton constituencies!!! huge swings, personal mandates for caroline lucas and peter kyle, and a strong victory in kemp town…. brilliant!

Russet and peach, the soft subtle colours of Woodbury hill fort just before the rain, red Devon soil overlaid with last years leaf mulch and the skein husk from fresh beech leaves… the deep groove of Iron Age fortification, now overgrown with wriggle rooted trees…. beneath the canopy of lustrous green… nature mingled with the ancient, the sacred… plus inevitable selfie x

paparazzi… pans labyrinth stylee… before work on the costa de living
p.s don’t vote tory … d’oh

Charlie D: Fab to see you the other day. Enjoy the rays (sun ones, not manta ones) x

ditto mademoiselle perigrina! xx

Ant: The nose still looks unfathomably large and bulbous, even when it’s not contrasting with the infinitesimally small eyes.

oi mush, enuff of your conk envy … or you’ll be walking from gatters… all those who have managed to peer into my delightful orbs have commented on the profound beauty of my soul.. yeah, that and how miniscule and lost they are midst the deep trenches of my characterful wrinkles!

Ant: piss holes in the snow.

i’m telling mum

as the bus bounced and jalloped down the hill into Rottingdene yesterday, i was smitten by happiness
engrossed in a fascinating essay on de quincey (seems to have taken me 2 weeks to still not finish the same article! nowadays i am dawdle slow in my perusal)
my headphones had been playing the somewhat cheesey finale to a bruce springsteen song, latherered in saxophone, when it unexpectedly segued into mardy bum
jolted from my pondering, i glanced up, to see the sparkle glance of sunlight on the sea, a wide vista beyond and out across the waves to the coiffured rain clouds on the horizon
nothing more… yet nothing less… a woman across the bus gang way half smiled… the complicity of a small something shared, human sympathy, this the mirror of connection?
happiness! nowt particular or specific, merely buoyed up by a raft, a concurrence, of both mood and circumstance
absence of profound epiphany… a mild bout of common or garden agape? gentle with it, do not grasp, nor try to tether… ja ja! subtle allowing of flow
later in singing, during the mantra, i was standing in the middle, at the sweet spot, coccooned in sound, caressed by voices… pondering that joy is sometimes just a matter of letting things fall away?
afterwards, a meander around town, festival frenzied, clearly all is not well with the world (or for that matter myself), yet stepping lightly, bumped into many many a lovely soul
… oh and then later got to dress up as a magic mushroom and push donkey kong over hill and dale, bedlam about hove lawns…hurrah!… a Marie and Rach extravaganza ha… as ever x
another slightly fey post where nothing quite fits, off kilter lurch, fun to follow the impulse of thought… and a gorgeous sunny morning!

Oh No! Gallumphing with too much gusto and enthusiasm!… again… this the first thought that assails me, as creak of bone, leaden of limb i awake in the unlikely, actually lacklustre, light of early morning
the usual high dudgeon of self disregard ‘nobody will ever love me… why do i always neglect to put the recycling out?’
of course the gallumphing was fun, 5 Rhythms this time, tho last week it was a flung about ceilidh, my pardner, a reluctant stranger, wild eyed aghast as i whole heartedly roared in her face… what they do in scotland! alledgedly
anyway in the crescendo of chaos last night, rolling around on the floor of the church, our group of four, an unruly puddle of limbs, each cheerfully pummeling the others, with palm, softened elbows and be-twiddled toes… a frenzy of hilarity
after the dance whilst hugging 2 people each told me i smelt of bonfire ‘euchh! you pong like a bbq flavoured quaver’… i paraphrase
which would of course have been the fire up at the community garden t’other night, away on the cliffs in the gloaming… a gang from thighs of steel were camping there, raising money for refugees in greece by cycling there, heroes!
they were awaiting the ferry in the morning, reminded me so much of our epic cycle ride staying in communities along the way.. an urge to give up on responsibilities… join the gypsy cavalcade!
blooming long way tho, the promise of showers… my library books are overdue… and err a cheese shortage in france! this time its not to be, excuse ever close to elbow
… and what might this motley assembalage of words be about? dunno… wild fervid, florid and gratuitous as the month of may itself… cheerful nonsense… mostly me wishing i had mastered restraint, equanimity, poise… life purpose… no o-levels in dat

oh, forgot to say sarah played primal screams ‘come together’, such a euphoric tune! always flung catapaults me back to prague may 92, ambling out of the squat, away to mama club for the evening
all squeezed together with endless screamadelica, down in the basement of some art nouveau palace… happy happy bliss bliss… then to tumble out in the early morning light… roam the bravua extravaganza of the city … to be young, creatures of love and eternal gumption
… nostalgia, brushing aside all memory of glum and hungover… i shall listen to the song again now… astonishing if you’ve bothered to read this far… arms waft aloft, altogether now, ‘cooome, come together as one’! love you all! well for the next 10 minutes 27 secs anyway… x

Megan: I spent last Saturday with Riikka wandering around Prague…

aww that sounds absolutely beautiful, sure it was immensely wonderful, saw she was there, wish i had been too… tho i’d have drunk too much and grumpily fallen asleep in a tree in a park… ha… some things never change … kiss that statue of a forlorn soppy lion on karlovy most for me xx Steve too… no, i don’t mean kiss him… aww whatever, pusa xx

laura: I love your writings! You have a gift 

thanks love, ain’t no slouch yerself, hope all is wild and woolly out on the western fringes xx