Author: basgallop

ah my beautiful ickle teensy tomatina seedlings! doing well so far!… reared on nowt but love… and a page from Ulysses each and every morning, read in my broadest, softest faux brogue,
just so that they know, although we humans are insistent on meaning, that there lurks a beauty in the baffling
this life business is a doddle! just create beneficial circumstances, pour in sunshine and water… and all will flourish (then wither and die, yeah, yeah)
as true for you and me, as for the seedlings… here the right circumstances are household compost from the garden … think old toenail clippings… regurgitated bean burrito from 2012!
oh and then popped a few of last years toms, ooze gunk of seeds smeared over the top of the soil… hey presto!
… and for me?…hmmm … ah since a neanderthal munched down on the primordial proto cabbage leaf (‘where theres muck thers brassicas’… he was clearly a yorkshire hominid)
man has been straining at (and ate) vegetable metaphors… so enuff of that
mostly i like watching things grow whilst coding… beards… and stuff
right enough ruminating, off to buy cream puffs and cherry tart from the supermarket
wish me luck, tis peculiar out there, laid low with dismal snot cold i haven’t left the house since wednesday! x
‘april is the coolest mumpfz’

i should have been a PROFESSOR! ahh the bitter sweet wail of a singular pang of remorse
professor of whatever? something gestalt weltscmerz zeitgeist schadenfreude! professor emeritus of eurhythmy and yodelling at the university of uuulan bator
i’d be in my lair, surrounded by fusty old books of spells, the mild pong of real ale and stale ganja… with a view down through the woods to the sea beyond
actually ulan bator is probs some way from the sea?… so mbe hawaii! or totnes! occasionally i’d listen to birdsong, roll up my sleeves and saunter off through the spring succulence, to deliver a lecture

decided all this during my mid afternoon candlelit bath…
the life of a freelancer, ostensibly this whim had been to help ‘resolve issues with my javascript objects, how they can be recalibrated to hoover up the remaining bitBytes’
instead lounged in a pool of patchouli, awash with regret
off to yoga, but when i’m back, all nidra(ed) out, i shall rummage through the sea chest and dust off my certificate ‘bsc hons chemistry, third class, university of exeter 1987’
and ponder on all that might have been… possibly a bit bored?

‘big wheel keeps on turning’ 3rd puncture, second new inner tube in about a week… and i haven’t even got to seaford and back
bike punctures are like buses (or not like buses!), none for a year, then all at once
time to wield spoons, disembowel and rummage around midst its rubbery guts… the foghorns are a calling, that whale song bellow
looking at pic, could probs do with scrubbing my derailleur too… not a euphemism
curiously, on the rare occasions i do anything practical, involving a toolbox, like putting up a blind, bashing a screw with a hammer (yeah i got this!) i always feel like i am impersonating dad..
a strangely comforting mimicry, sure one day Finn will be cheerfully mirroring me