Its been a long day

I write to remember what I should forget and then forget to remember to forget and then I get confused and write some more, but I remember what I had for breakfast in Saltdean on the fourteenth of August 1972 which worries me to death, well, perhaps not death but somewhere very close to it…

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A holiday must be on the cards

I’d like to sit on the deckchair in my backyard and watch the daffodils grow, have a barbecue a beer or two, wear my Jesus sandals with socks of course because as you already know fashion has its home in the North, listen to the wireless set I wonder if Cowdrey’s got his century yet,…

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I dunno

What would you do if all your dreams come true and you had nothing left to dream for? Oh God, that question’s a hard one. Would I be ‘woke’ if I had to wake? I can’t answer it, but I could sleep on it, without dreams? impossible…

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Then it was Tuesday

Eyes down for the biblical bingo, acts on intuition and becomes beyond our recognition, hey presto, someone’s calling ‘house’ but it’s only Thomas and he’s a louse, a doubtfull sort of fellow…

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