My journey this Thursday 31st May 2007
23:03 May 31 2007
Times Read: 1,062
I left the house on the way to voluntary work, passing a bright yellow small skip on our side of the road, on a grey overcast day, ‘with some occasional sunlight, brightening the day,’ so I’d heard on the radio, just before I’d left.
And I’d thought, as I’d passed the skip, of the pieces of lives thrown away into it, too make way for the New is what I’d thought of, as I’d walked beneath a tree, as blue showed in the sky; and the leaves wet with recent rainfall seemed to emanate a fresh scent of nature itself, until I’d passed.
Approaching the station, I’d heard a bird announce to me I’d entered its space, its territory. So I’d repeated its call, not too difficult to do and listened to silence, punctuated by the sound of traffic, until it had sung out once more: a sort of ‘bugger-off’ sort of call. And I had, as I’d entered the station.
Then as I had continued my walk to the platform, I’d noticed a lone, discarded empty orange carton, just above the yellow handrail I held: so, I’d picked it up and taken it a walk, a few feet, to the bright yellow bin, at the bottom of the stairs.
And, I’d mentioned the hand, which annoys me; which had trouble receiving the change I’d been given when I’d purchased my ticket; well, that had didn’t seem so bad, when I’d looked up after taking my seat.
It was then that I’d noticed the fellow in the white shirt and tie, with short hair and his crutches, in the window seat next to him, for what appeared to be a form of spasticity.
And although I’d been travelling late, I’d still made a detour at Birkenhead and the Firemen’s Arms, where I’d a date with a double whiskey: just the one.
Then under a blue sky, with little cloud, I’d passed through town, now lacking a crowd, toward the statiom to the ‘Pool, going through Hamilton Square, opposite the town Hall, passing Victoria’s monument to the dead on the way.
Then later, I walked homeward beneath a sky now blue, between twilight’s eve, my lower back sore from where I’d whacked it, after crawling beneath the tables where we serve, after giving out the last choc-ices; and I felt good, tired but good.
And as I sit here, I recall the hand and wristshake, I’d received from a fellow with an eastern accent, one of those countries that’s recently joined the economic union.
“Thank you for what you do,” he’d said.
“No no, mate,” I had responded as he walked away, “thank you for coming.”
I like my Thursdays.
After watching Heroes and John left, I’d ‘made this’
13:40 May 28 2007
Times Read: 1,073
Toasted cheese; with brown bread, mild half fat cheddar, toast has been basted in a littlefat/oil/spread, before application of slices of cheese to untoasted side.
Ergo, now we have “fried bread” with toasted cheese.. *I’m long-winded, have you noticed? Then, just before serving, drop a dollop of Greek Style natural yogurt.
Oh.. yum.
‘Heroes’ Episode 2313:12 May 28 2007
Times Read: 1,075
Have often do you watch a t.v. show, only to find yourself disappointed by the last episode. It’s happened countless times for me, ‘Blakes 7’, ‘Farscape’, and others.
But, last night’s ‘Heroes’, the end of series 1, episode 23 that I watched with John was everything I’d waited for.. after his recording didn’t work; and as it transpired, I had a copy of it off Karl, so my wait of weeks, was worth it.
All in all, after the film, the evening was the perfect way to end the day.
The Pirates Of The Caribbean: At Worlds End.
23:18 May 27 2007
Times Read: 1,085
Some have said this is overlong. Some have said it loses its way and others have said the special effects are good. Well it may have its detractors, but in the eyes of this cinema goer, ‘At Worlds End’ was a good end to the trilogy; and was one of ‘those films,’ which just has to be viewed on the big screen.
It’s a spectacle. It has Keira Knightly playing a hero, who outshines the men; while Johnny Depp is just brilliant in a role he seemed born to play, while Keith Richard was darn good as his father!
All in all, I’m pleased I didn’t listen to those who knocked the film.
I’m so-pleased I made up my own mind whether to go and enjoy a good rip-rollicking movie, as I did. And my day had been made all the better for me doing so.
Damn critics, what do they know!?!
'romantic Love.'
18:23 May 22 2007
Times Read: 1,127
Hate does not consume me, nor is it a path I seek: I understand it.
I do not talk of romance in the sight light as Love.
infantile is the right word, when talking of 'romantic Love.'
but the two, Love and Hate, in concert are an understanding I relish.
yesterday.. went travelling to King St:18:50 May 12 2007
Times Read: 1,177
yesterday.. went travelling to King St:
no Simon.. I'd had money on me.. and no weed: which has been the case for a couple of weeks now, except for the little I shared with Peter and saved for the the day in Liverpool with him at The Cavern.
anyway, it started getting showery...
so I decided to get the bus home..
which is where I met Elaine, the short brunette with stacks on
thankfully it was the 402 to Chester...
which at least gave me a chance to start travelling home before 4:00 and the travel pass running out.
we'd chatted about poetry on the journey to Birkenhead.
As it was, I'd got to Birkenhead Central before four and was able to get the train, which is where I enountered Jason and his daughter, who I'vemet before and seemed to recall me well: and it was he who rooted in his wallet, as the doors were opening at Bebington and had pressed a small bit of green into my hand.
and I got home to find a letter from the magistrate laypersons panel, in regard of my interview with them..
tyhen, this morning, as my parents were 'discussing' how best to get to a particular part of Fazakerley Hospital, I showed them how useful the net can be, (although expensive) by producing a simpler map to understand than the one that had been sent to my Mum!
A sense of worth?12:00 May 11 2007
Times Read: 1,184
It’s the end of the day, as I begin this. Well, as far as I’m concerned. It’s now Friday, but it’d been Thursday, which had prompted my deliberations.
There’s work being done on the Liverpool loop-line and I had to get a bus from James Street Station to Limes Street. Fair enough. No hassle.
But, in the lift I overheard two black young ladies talking, as you do.
One had been talking of a contract the other should sign, which would bring in £500 pound an hour, for D.J. ‘work.’
Now I’d been on the way to help out on a soup-kitchen, which I’ve worked on now for over ten years and I see more people needing us, not less.
But, that isn’t what gets me.
What gets me is that we don’t make anything in Britain anymore: and everyone below the age of twenty-five seems to think they can be a pop-star, or successful footballer: all without effort, or any real training. I’m referring of course to the age of the quick buck, where everyone can be an instant success, or so Pop Idol would have us believe; either that, or overnight, you will be a millionaire, without any effort, of course, thanks to the lottery. What happened to our society?
Why is it we seem to venerate D.J.’s; popstars and footballers, rather than nurses and shipbuilders and doctors and bricklayers?
Does money, the almighty buck, mean that a popstar has more worth in our society than someone who makes the homes we live in? Or, is a D.J. of more worth in our society, than a nurse, who cares for you and your elderly parents?
I mean, just how on earth does that make sense?
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