Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Sunday, 28 July 2019
Graveside phantosmia
Imagined scents,
spring magnolia walks
missed birthdays
vanilla
wet dog after rainy walks
pine needles and orange of lost christmasses
bicycle oil
antiseptic cream
playdo, paint and glue
summer gardens
caged tigers
autumn woods
that a child, dancing, scattering confetti on her mothers grave
makes real.
Wednesday, 17 July 2019
The elastic in my ironic pants.
The elastic in my ironic pants is broken
I call them my ironic pants
because they are my favourite pants
but were given to me
by the person I dislike most on this planet
the pants are dark blue with pink spots
and fitted well when new
I cannot say that they are lucky pants
for I have had not much luck of late
pants on or otherwise
save her departing from my life
Walking home this evening
the elastic broke
they do not fit at all well now
I have thrown them in the bin
Closure
I call them my ironic pants
because they are my favourite pants
but were given to me
by the person I dislike most on this planet
the pants are dark blue with pink spots
and fitted well when new
I cannot say that they are lucky pants
for I have had not much luck of late
pants on or otherwise
save her departing from my life
Walking home this evening
the elastic broke
they do not fit at all well now
I have thrown them in the bin
Closure
Monday, 1 July 2019
A poke in the eye for Britains Celts.
Eamon O'Kelly, History enthusiast
Your
question is based on a mistaken assumption. There are no Celts in the
British Isles. Celtic culture flourished in continental Europe from
about 800 BC until the beginning of the Common Era, by which time most
of the Celts had been Romanized to varying degrees. In other words, the
Celts have been dead and gone for about two thousand years.
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