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basgallop.com is having an overhaul! from now all my blog posts and ramblings will live here, whilst work related stodge can be found at the main site!

heres flaps design… complete with wishing on a star lyrics:

my new christmas jumper, so disturbingly orange it seems to have tango-ed the entire world!… i love taking snaps of myself, belly navel gazing galore!!!!

aww happy christmas everyone, lovely to come on here and see all the seasonal greetings and foolish festive snaps
not always the easiest time of year for everyone, i struggle a bit with not being a traditional nuclear family unit (moon unit?! zappa)
so blooming well done to one and all of you!!! (its a bit like musical statues where will we be when the music stops this year)
but hey pass the stilton and port, nosedive into the brandy butter! a lot to like in the days of abundance and sloth.
right best see if i can goad the kids into a walk, doesn’t seem very likely, then iPlayer slobbery. Merlin? Dr Who?
happy boxing day! pressies galore vibes! x

bobble hats cravats and shaving mirrors! i was bored, time to clean the house for christmas! byeee x

ugghh is it possible to overdose on honey ginger and lemon? can one dwell too long in a lavender and jasmine bath… beyond even twiggly wrinkled prune fingers
its the end of the world (possibly) and i’ve got a mild attack of the sniffles. snotmageddon.
mildly disappointing really
still i’ve got the best bobble hat in the entire universe.. and huge quantities of chocolate. not all bad
see even REM weren’t always boring old windbags

aggghh i’ve just remembered smiley happy people… noooooooo!

watching the wind on the surface of the water
flattening the waves, plumping up the froth, shrapnel stipple pockmarking the surface
playful agog, then it is gone, to alight elsewhere, some capricious djinn
to be a sailor, when all is calm, idle, marooned on the placid expanse of ocean
to whistle for the wind, a gentle summoning, subterfuge, an act of sympathetic magic
tacit acknowledgement that the wind, with all its blustery pomp cannot be controlled
that when it wants, and only then, it will fill the slack sails with its burden brute force
i like wind because it is invisible! rejoice in the bleeding obvious, known only through its consequence
hung out washing dancing on the line,
a fire just as it catches, wind coaxed, the joyful fury as the wood surges into flame,
prayer flags, colourful, aloft, in the high himalaya, clap flapping their prayers to the heavens
else the augury of birds, a seagull that stalls, stukhas then slow dives to the waves
a hawk as it hovers, a subtle manipulation, the angling of bone, sinew and feather, miraculous stasis midst the roar
mastery. to blend with its element. grace

………. its fun, waking up, writing words and at the same time half heartedly perusing facebook! x

ice cream head! best cosset me noggin tea cosey stylee, back from an early morning jog, trust me ice cream head is much better than colly wobble goolies
…off in my jogging pantaloons following the frost sparkled pavements up to the cliff tops
Running across the ice brittle grass, stiff bristled as a crunchy ocean bed of sea urchins
clip clop, kept on looking around for a horse, but just the sound of my own passing over the iron shod ground
i love coming across horses on a hill side in the early morning light, it is not their full fettle movement, but the utter stillness, entranced, dream phantom still
i digress, below, like liquid nitrogen(?!), the sea is frozen into a wave… the hunger, the loll tongued stare of the steppenwolf
the water cradled within the harbour walls is calm and gentle, stippled… like cling film on jelly
surrealy the only sound to break the stillness (to quell the rattling in my head) are chimes, a few wafted bars from an ice cream van!
i imagine mr softee, wintering in his mobile home, apron and feather duster, with a sigh, with a smile, unable to resist pressing the button, simple nostalgia for summers sake
anyway i get to my turning around point, where i get the first glimpse of brighton, usually a shrug and ‘naaaah’, but today, the low slung orange sun behind me
and there, with the furious snarled grimace of the sun god, or more likely the rictus grin of a cartoon character stung by a wasp, i raise both my arms, the long shadow reaches out, gaping to the horizon
and tho it might be fanciful to claim to have blotted out the whole of brighton, i did, at least, obliterate peacehaven heights… some might say a very good thing

he he i love a bout of early morning poncification! to make up for it, a lovely pic of finn from way way back when! stanmer house in the background