Yippee Calloo Callay!

You have reached the foot hill of the mountains.
You are most welcome
More than worthy

Thursday, 15 July 2010

Day dream believer.

Day dream believer

Patti could see a long dark stripe running down the tall sycamore which stood outside her window. It was raining. Drops of rain had gathered together up amongst the sycamores branches into a pool. A pool which grew and grew until it spilled, trickling down the sycamores thick truck to the ground.
The ground where puddles blossomed.
Splosh! The leafs dripped with drops.

The skies were pure white. Which made Patti think,
Huh, The sky is white and all the clouds are blue.

Patti wondered if this meant the clouds were upset, before deciding that wasn’t what she meant by thinking the clouds were blue. For if the sky was white and the clouds were blue, then that would mean there were lots of clouds so they wouldn’t have any reason to be sad.
Then Patti changed her mind, she reasoned that the sky being white meant a lot of clouds had gathered, and it was this new sky that had turned the sky beneath into clouds, which might well be blue. Patti couldn’t decide whether these new clouds were gloomy or depressed or a phenomena that drifted at a far distance into the unknown. Patti settled on saying out loud to herself very merrily in a sing song voice,
The skies are white and all the clouds are blue.

A tiny chink like a blue smile in the ceaseless mass of white cloud that headed towards the east revealed Patti to be right.

Blue skies and falling rain, they’re beautiful, just like you.

As Patti wrote these words for the Sycamore tree which stood outside her window, shadows kissed with light from the trees leafs danced to the swash of her pen.

After a moment spent mesmerised by the sun the leafs the tree the light and the shadows that danced across her page, Patti looked up to the sky. The giant mass of white was rapidly disappearing.

It’s like the clouds are being pushed by a giant hand, or perhaps they are being blown by a giant, like they have in fairy tales, Patti thought to herself. Then she begun to wonder whether the giant that blew clouds would be sweet natured like a gardener who made flowers grow. Or angry. Like a man that breaks his hand by punching a brick wall.
She decided he would be sweet natured, of course.
Gently the giant blanketing the clouds in warm air so they could safely fly away on their journeys.
Then again. Patti conjured up another twinkle in her mind. Perhaps Gently the giant did get angry when the skies were blue and all the clouds had been blown away, and perhaps the reason the skies were blue were because they were depressed all the clouds had left them.

Patti figured,
Gently the giant would stop blowing out warm air for the clouds, which would be a bit like the hot tap in the bath suddenly turning cold or a sad song getting sadder.

Was gently the Giants breath a song?

If it was it had changed into a storm. Gently breathed in furiously to bring the clouds back, except Gently couldn’t stop and before he knew it he had swallowed all the clouds inside his belly.
A belly full of clouds! Patti felt like she had been tickled what would happen if the giant burped or...
Of course Patti giggled that would explain why sometimes there’s only a few little fluffy clouds in the sky.

With all the clouds deep inside Gently’s belly it meant the skies were blue again. This time Gently the giant didn’t get angry. His big round giant face drooped dismally. He got sad. It didn’t seem there was anything Gently could do to stop the clouds he loved to play with so much leaving him on his own. So he began to blow out a sad song, which made the clouds waft one by one out of his mouth. As the sky became white and the clouds again blue Gently’s song got happier and happier. The clouds begun billowing out of Gently’s mouth thick and fast until there were no more left inside his belly.

Patti wondered why Gently the giant didn’t shed a tear or cry.

As maybe that would be where the rain or the sea or sea and the rain came from.
Patti asked herself,
What came first the rain or the sea? Then answered her own question.

What came first the ice the sea or the rain?

Patti decided the only reason you would want to freeze the sea is if you couldn’t swim or didn’t have a boat. Then outside she found a rusty nail. It was the colour of an autumn leaf. Patti looked across the road at a silver car that had drops of water sitting all over it.

Why don’t cars get rusty on top, they must spray them with special stuff, I bet the old cars in Cuba, blue, yellow, green, red, I bet they get rusty. That’s if it rains in Cuba.

A drop of rain splashed onto Patti’s head.
Oh dear!
Patti exclaimed out loud. For she had just that minute decided that people get rusty if they weren’t wearing hats.
Oh dear, oh dear, She cried, I haven’t been sprayed with special stuff and I haven’t got a hat.

Patti took refuge from the rain beneath the shelter of the tall Sycamore tree.
There’s only one thing for it, ill have to wait for the rain to stop or find a hat, or maybe someone will come along with an umbrella for me.
This was really three things, but Patti rushed along at such a speed that she didn’t have time to notice such idiosyncrasies.

Umbrellas are a bit like hats which you hold in your hand but don’t ever touch your head except by accident, Patti laughed, and as she did the sun came out.

Wouldn’t it be funny if instead of tipping their hats to passersby people open and closed their umbrellas. If an umbrella closed on top of somebody’s head with its handle dangling past the nose on their face it really would be like a hat.

Except then no-one in these hats would be able to see where they were going and they’d bump into each other all the time. That’s of course if umbrellas were hats.
Patti started to think she rather enjoyed bumping into people, so decided the next time anyone bumped into her before they could say sorry she would say,
Thank you.

Then she begun to think of things she thought were sad that she could make better, except the world got a bit too big then so Patti stopped wondering beneath the tree and started to walk.

Patti remembered a note given to her by her friend Senay which read,

Loving & Kind
My Hero & friend
Love Smile Happy
Life is an forever wonderous Journey, Trust Your fEET!!
Loove “N”

That’s funny I’ve been thinking with my head so much that I forgot to trust my feet, but feet you used to sing to me.

Which set Patti wondering again, what if feet could think well then they would think,
Sure we used to sing but then you used to play games with us and suck us and sing of how we tasted sweet.

Patti stopped thinking and trusted her feet. She walked past the woods and past a roundabout then past an old church and down a hill.

Two boys on bikes came speeding down the hill, the boy in front wore glasses and had short fuzzy hair, the one behind had on a straw hat and a bright red Woodstock festival T-shirt. The T-shirt had a motif of a guitar and a dove. It was an exact replica of the poster for the Woodstock festival which happened in 1969.

The boys on bikes were going so fast that the boy with the Woodstock’s T-shirt hat flew clean off his head.

The hat landed on the pavement right in front of Patti’s feet. She bent down to pick it up, it was straw and had shells around the brim tied on by a piece of brown string.
Patti couldn’t hear what the boys said to each other as they sped down the hill, but we can,

Whoah! There goes my hat
Your hat! Aren’t you going to stop and pick it up?
Nah. It’s someone else’s hat now. And if not ill just pick it up on my way back.

There was a knock at the door,
Patti couldn’t believe it shed spent such a long time, longer than usual day dreaming in the bath. Normally Patti would get out of the bath and stay with her day dreams.
Today was different. She jumped out fast. As if the water was full of jelly fish and bristled into action. Quickly Patti dried her arms legs body and face with a towel, and then swung her head round and round, which flicked water off her hair onto the bathroom mirror where it landed to paint wet streaks.
“Hold on I’m coming” She shouted out to whoever it was at the door, “Just coming”
Patti didn’t bother getting dressed, she just wrapped a towel around her body and tied her hair up with another towel a bit like a Sikh’s turban. Then she went downstairs to open the door.

It was a Tesco delivery.

Patti didn’t remember any of her house mates mentioning a delivery, which was odd as they were all out at Uni for when the delivery arrived, but as she was in the moment Patti didn’t think this strange. The van driver a girl called Lisa with a long dark pony tail and glasses didn’t think it strange that the girl behind the door had opened the door wearing just a towel, or two towels, she really thought it highly amusing.
Just got up have we Lisa chuckled
I was having a nice bath Patti replied.
Lisa plonked a sheet of paper in Patti’s hand,
Heres your order form,
Already on the doorstep were a load of bags full of groceries that Lisa must have carried out from the van whilst Patti was getting out of the bath, or wrapping herself in towels.
Now this milk bottle was leaking, Said Lisa holding the offending item, which still dripped a little through the plastic shopping bag Lisa had placed it in to keep the milk from getting everywhere.
If you’ve got a bottle to put the milk in you can have it for free.

Patti said this sounded like a great deal, and whilst she crouched down to move the bags over the doorstep and into the house Lisa put the leaking milk in the shopping bag into the sink in the kitchen, then said goodbye to Patti at the door.

Before putting all the groceries away, Patti got dressed.

If you saw Patti in the park where she was a ballerina, balanced upon one leg planted on the top of the stump of an old tree trunk her other leg stuck out way behind her and her arms spread wide like a bird, a plane or angel flying. You would see what Patti had decided to wear today.

A pair of soft black boots, black stockings with a zigzag pattern running up them, a green skirt covered in pictures of white petalled flowers. A whitish grey sack hung down from Patti’s shoulder it also had flower patterns stitched on it but only one or two compared to the daisy field that was her skirt. Patti also had on a small brown buttoned jacket which was very wind in the willows and on her hands were black velvet gloves which matched her black boots and stockings. On her head was an opal coloured bobble hat.

In the eyes of the general population who hardly ever looked properly Patti wasn’t a ballerina or a bird, a plane or angel.
A knowing dancer passing by may have perished a thought over Patti’s bent knee and flexed foot.

Patti wouldn’t have cared a jot. It was what she could see and know with her own eyes and heart that mattered, and in Patti’s eyes and heart Patti was a ballerina. Patti often dreamt sometimes of a wandering dance lady that would one day teach her woodland ballet and they would create a show together that no other could.

After being a ballerina in the park Patti went to a cafe, which was playing James Brown, and ordered a hot chocolate.
She gazed into her cup reading patterns in the shapes that formed on the surface; it was a bit like reading tea without the use of leafs.

Outside it rained. The clouds were back.

Patti loved watching the rain. She reflected how she met a man in Kathmandu that taught her the joys of sitting under the shelter of a parasol during a monsoon whilst drinking tea and smoking. As they watched the rain together the man taught Patti to drag on her cigarette keeping the smoke in her mouth, and then to take a drink of tea, before blowing the smoke out.

Not the tea!

Patti thought how funny it would have been if she had blown tea out of her mouth instead of smoke, whilst sitting under the parasol watching the monsoon rain. As she thought it Patti laughed and very nearly succeeded in squirting hot chocolate out of her nose and onto a blue and white chequered napkin of the cafe.

Rain drops drip
Smoke tea sip
Rain drops drip
Smoke tea sip

In the cafe in drizzly Sheffield drinking her hot chocolate Patti Sunrise smiled. A lot of her friends and family, are they not one and the same? Were leaving today. Some by sky some by water. It was very very wet. Which made Patti think,
If it’s wet here then it must be wet somewhere else and if it’s wet somewhere else then it must be sunny somewhere else too, and if it’s wet here then it must be sunny somewhere. This made Patti think, that if you got the rain and the sun and tied them in a knot together you could easily make a bow filled with colour.

Patti looked out of the cafe window and noticed a red balloon and a blue balloon flying together in the sky.

Then she took a quick glance round the cafe to make sure no-one was looking, a guy eating a bagel in the corner noticed and stared,
what the hey! Patti thought and nodded her head forwards so she could sing to her feet.

The Weather, it’s beautiful just like you feet.

Patti’s feet purred and took Patti's song one step further by revealing their most treasured secret.

Patti, the weather is always beautiful.

In the same way sugar tastes sweet in both the sunshine and the rain.



Your a mouldy crab apple
im stuck to the soles of your shoes
lets grow mould together
and half bake
mouldy apple stews

Wednesday, 14 July 2010

Upon my back a lucky sack.

Upon my back a lucky sack

The wisest animals whisper,
Long time no fear
Henry-Dylan had heard them
For he was very brave.
So brave in fact he decided to take the perilous walk up the mountain to the home of the man without a name.

The man without a name was a menace. A real horror. More monster than man. For over a hundred years he had been eating the hearts of those who wandered to his home, seeking his name in vain.

Henry-Dylan wasn’t scared. Up the mountain. Up up up he sang,
“Upon my back, my lucky sack”

At the top Henry-Dylan found a stone cottage with a wooden door. He knocked three times.
Boom Boom Boom . The door opened. Inside was a sparse room. A fire crackled wickedly. Upon a rug on the floor beside the fire sat... the man without a name.

If you guess my name I will stitch you a cloak to make you riches sneered the man, a lopsided grin fixed upon his sly face,
If you do not I will cut out your heart with a spoon and eat it.

Henry-Dylan raised an eyebrow and looked at the floor, he noticed it was stained here and there with dark patches of old, crusted blood.

I know your name, replied Henry-Dylan impishly,

I got it from these lips, and smack out of his sack Henry-Dylan pulled the severed lips of Rumplestiltskin, which he had cut off using the silver scissors given to him by his grand mama.

Your name is


Now stitch me my cloak.

The next day Henry-Dylan closed the cottage door behind him with a click. Click!

Then beaming down the mountain in a fancy new cloak of silver and gold he sung his sacks song loud. Loud enough to make the heavens smile.

Tuesday, 13 July 2010

The qualm before the show.

The qualm before the show

Fuzzy energy pumped out of the ground. There was a real buzz in Montreal. You could feel the invisible vibrations a mile off. Excitement and fever bristled on the skin and lips of the town’s people.
A large crowd gathered round a shiny poster stuck to the wall of the city hall.
Cheerfully voices rang out for the latecomers
“Have you seen this poster?”
“It’s The Great Dellbragio”
“He’s coming to town, our town”

Sure enough the bold curly script on the yellow papered poster read – One day only the world famous Great Dellbragio – June 7th tickets 5 cents.
That’s all the posters ever needed to say.

The people of Montreal waited in anticipation, June the 7th was a week away, and they could barely contain there excitement. The air felt tribal. Just like a storm ready to spew forth a flowing golden silver rain.

As more and more minds dallied away from work, Mayor Jean Louis Beaudy decided to declare a week’s national holiday.
For all the townsfolk could concentrate on was scratching their heads and wondering over, what Dellbragios show was going to be?

On the 6th Montreal’s excitement reached fever pitch as a wooden plat formed stage blossomed magically overnight to appear in the square. The stage had been constructed in secret by Dellbragios cloaked assistants.

The next day a dragon flew through the sky. It was Dellbragio in his helicopter.

The townsfolk shrieked as the dragon burst into multicoloured flames. Then Dellbragio landed upon his feet into the square to the sound of rapturous applause.
He proceeded to show the townsfolk many things. Of the usual sort. Underwater singing, how to paint colours on clouds.

Penultimately, Dellbragio plucked out the townsfolk’s dreams from their ears then made them disappear softly, like raindrops sinking beneath the earth.

Friday, 9 July 2010



For ages 6-100.

This is a ridiculous play you can act out for your family and friend’s horror or amusement (depending on how they take it.)

You will need a stage.

Examples of a stage could be the floor in front of a sofa, a bit of a garden, if the windowsill is wide enough then perhaps behind a curtain, if you are daring you could perform the play at your local park or bandstand, I do not recommend performing the play in a library, anyway choice of stage is up to you.

You will also need an audience, this could be your mum, dad, brother, sister, friends, extenuated family, townsfolk at the library or complete strangers.

A pet or soft toy such as a teddy bear will do if you can’t find any people who want to join in, the audience can be as small (an audience of one is fine) or as large as you like.

Warn the audience before the play that they will be expected to participate.

Whoever’s playing Max should tell them about this conspiratorially. The audience has a one word line to use, when Max asks, “how did he smell?” The audience is supposed to shout out Dreadful! Even if they are a teddy bear.

You will need two players.

One to play Sam and one to play Max.

Sam is very sombre throughout almost detached, and not too bothered about engaging the audience. Sam speaks slowly.

Max is the opposite, cheeky, exited, directs most of his lines directly to the audience as if there in on a big joke.
Max is a joker. Sam a bit more serious.


A piece of candy rock (optional)
A brick
A piece of long string.

If Sam could have a piece of candy rock disclosed about his or her person, the inside pocket of a jacket would be perfect, then excellent if not, that’s ok.
This is important; Hidden from the audiences view behind Max’s legs should be a brick.
One end of the piece of long string should be tied round the brick, Max holds the other end in his or her hand or hands visibly. You can use something else other than Max’s legs to hide the brick if this proves too difficult a task.

The play is called Bingo and here is the script. Those of a faint heart be warned (it is shockingly terrible and full of clangers.)
Remember Sam speaks slowly.


Sam: Bingo was my best friends dog
he didn't have no legs
he didn't have no furry coat
he didn't have a head
he didn't have no shiny nose

Max: how did he smell?

Audience: Dreadful!

Sam: Or a wonker wagging tail
he didn’t have no pointy ears
or curvy little teeth
didn't have no smelly breath
coz he didn’t have to eat

Max: except dust

Sam: Still
he had his friends
he had his walks
and he had his bowl
and he had a lot of love
a very shiny soul
he had the time he broke marks foot
and the time he turned into a phone

Still Sam: happy memories of my best friends dog
may he rest in piece

Max: shall I have one piece or two

Sam( turning to Max): shhhh show some respect

Max: it all depends on how much I’ve had to drink

Sam: bingos gone to another place now
somewhere far away

Max: what happened?

Sam: (suddenly speaking faster and with more enthusiasm) he was knocked on the noggin
smashed over the head
taken unconscious
then drowned in cement

Max: knocked on the noggin?
Sam: smashed over the head
Max: taken unconscious?
Sam: to be drowned in cement

Sam: (Back to speaking slowly) alas he was impressed by a trowel
the filthy gang took him
then laid him out
with all the others
whose names I do not know

Max (singing): B, I, N, G, O

Sam: apparently it’s all for the greater good
there building some wall in the far away land
for an egg to fall off
still doesn't stop me shedding a tear now and again
for bingo

Sam again: he was a brick my best friends dog
a real brick

Max: do you ever go and see him?

Sam: yeah I pay him a visit every now and then
but it’s not the same
he’s lifeless
the press gang really got to him
no expression no energy no drive
I tell him what everyone's been up to and all that

Max: it must feel like you’re talking to a brick wall

Sam: yeah it does a bit

Max: a bit off the wall

Sam: I miss him I miss the way he’d sometimes roll over

Max: so is Tommie going to get another dog?

Sam: I think maybe he’s going to get a rock

Max: a rock I heard there dangerous

Sam: its cats that are dangerous rocks are pretty steady dependable you know like on an island

Max: sweet

Sam: well there not so good for your teeth.

Sam and Max exit – Sam go first and if possible take out a piece of rock from the inside pocket of a jacket and take a bite keep walking until youve left the stage (or are out of the audiences view, you could even join the audience), Max follow behind Sam, but don't leave the stage, walk until the piece of string in your hands goes taunt and the brick is revealed to the audience, by now Sam should have left the stage, Max stop walking when the string goes taunt (cut the string before tieing it round the brick to a desired length so that only have to walk a couple of steps before it goes taunt), looks over your shoulder so as to talk to the brick,

Max: Come on boy

Max: (Do a whistle as if calling a dog)

Then carry on walking dragging the brick behind you until both you and the brick have left the stage.

The End

Return to rapturous applause, bow curtsy whatever, and don't forget to introduce the star of the show, the Brick, which you can make do a bow too.

“the time he turned into a phone”
Is based on a certain type of mobile phone being called a brick.
If you want you can draw a number pad and an aerial like a mobile phones onto your brick with chalk and involve this into the BINGO play or any subsequent Sam and Max plays that you do. I have yet to incorporate this myself, but feel there is the opportunity to do so. If you do act out the play yourself, hats off for your bravery, I also applaud your adventurous spirit, please feel free to adapt any of the lines you so wish, in fact the more lines you adapt the better, because then you'll have probably come up with something completely different which would then be safe to perform in front of other members of the human race (or teddy bears)
All the best.
PPS Has anyone seen my parrot? Nibbles! Nibbles!

Tuesday, 6 July 2010



Aw man how I dream I could remember everything completely. Maybe I can. If I go back.

I was on the bus.

It was more like a glass elevator to start off with. Four of us sharing air space. Rory was on the phone. Chatting away about something being scary. I started making ghost noises. Awoool. Whispered ghost noises. Then the girl with red hair told me to be quiet. Seems I was annoying her. Sheepish. I thought Aw what. Then yeah I shut up. There was this guy behind me Thomas. Of polish descent. He loved I got told to shut up. I think he refused me food. Or said No! To some amicable request. That was back then not now.

Something happened because we were on a bus tour in Scotland. Wed been to many places. Seen an old car museum and travelled over bridges past lakes. Beautiful scenery. Many had brought food with them. There were two buses.

For some reason Thomas was driving the bus.
The girl with the red hair had passed out.
She lay across me using my chest as a pillow.

Aw man. What was going on one disaster after another. I think they doctored my memory. All I knew next was the bus was about to crash. Smash into a wall. Thomas the driver of polish descent looked backwards. His eyebrows raised and his smile so fixed it gave him a startling demonic expression. He was enjoying this. Deliberately driving us towards a wall.

I speedily unbuckled my seat belt. I took the passed out red haired girl in my arms and placed her in the seat that was next to mine. I quickly clicked her seat belt buckle in place. Then I smothered her for safety with my body like a soldier in a film would jump on a bomb, so as to protect his friends.

The bus crashed into the wall.

I woke up with a start. Lying on a hospital bed. In front of I was a window to a window. A three tiered window. Thomas was in the top window. He laughed then appeared beside I.

His bedside manner left something to be desired.

He was raving. Cackling like a twisted evil spectre.
I was hurt I knew that much.

So your plan to save the girl worked
Thomas laughed.
Therefore I killed her myself
and chopped off one of your fingers to teach you a lesson.

I looked down at my hand and sure enough my little finger on my right hand was just a bloody stump.

Why was this happening?

How did Thomas transport himself from the utmost window to the side of my bed so quickly?

I vaguely remembered my suitcase. I had packed it. Surely. There was a document in there. My passport? No something else. I felt. Felt. I think it was something to do with the FBI.

A flashback whoa strong this time. Luckily I was already lying down. As the images prickled and burned inside my head.

Back with the bus.

Strange jumbled up pictures a suitcase loosing paper to the wind. An ice cream van and I. Chatting to the girl that said can you be quiet please. How it was a shame. Never mind. Id just eat sweets. I had lots of sweets. Which was a lie. I pulled out a half eaten strawberry lace from behind my ear and ate it. Chewing and thinking about my lies. Then the ice cream van went past playing its song and I thought, I can buy more sweets so that's alight.

The bus had stopped and everyone had got off. Everyone except for this traveller. I was just about to check my belongings when two of the bus party turned up.

A lanky guy with mousey curtains hair, a face shaped like a peanut and a light blue and white striped button shirt covering the top half of his body. His friend was shorter and chubbier. Wearing a green jumper.

Although don't hold onto that one. As I said my memory's not so good. Anyway this pair said that if I wanted to get my room I had to get off the bus and head into the hotel now.

The bus was parked about 100 metres away from a travel lodge type place and the rest of the party had been gone for about an hour or so already. I was planning on skipping the whole booking a room scenario and just crashing somewhere. Who knows at worst maybe someone would have space on their floor that I could crash upon.

For whatever reason I decided now was the time to step inside the hotel. In I went. The guy in the light blue and white striped shirt said,

"head to the grey area in the middle then use the extension on the phone to get your room"

Fair enough, I thought, as I made my way across, funny, this was odd, in the middle of a large red carpeted room, there was a patch of floor that was grey, completely grey in colour, on it were a few office style tables and chairs, and on the tables phones, the phones were grey too, the tables thankfully were a different colour yellow orange beam, otherwise the whole thing would look like some conceptual art project, office space in concrete.

As I took steps towards the grey area I went past what I would usually call the hotel reception desk. Instead of there being no-one about and a bell to ring the place was buzzing. It was like a stock exchange. There were four people manning the phones on the front desk and more and more went back in rows. The phones were constantly ringing too. It was frantic.

I was the only guest in the lobby and now the grey area.

I sat down in front of a phone and found the extension number written on it

"Extension 8441" I called over my shoulder to the dynamic duo.

They dint need to reply and I don't even know if they would have done, they moved a bit like sheep anyway, the phone to the left of me, oh yeah there were two phones on the desk, sprung to life it flashed its green light and rang. So I picked up the receiver.

"Hello" I said, perplexed.

"Hi your through to Dai, your helpful hotel room booker"

"Good evening Dai" I replied "My name is...

This Dai was speaking manically fast and cutting over everything I tried to say

"Your going have difficulty getting a room this evening"

"Really how much diffi"

"Well most of the rooms are completely booked up fully boooked so its going to be difficult for you to get a room"

"Well just let me know is it a yes or a "

"Its going to be difficult!"

"well that suggests its not impossible, difficult isnt a no so"

At this point I began to think in my head

what on earth is this difficulty that Dai's going on about, do I have to do a tightrope walk to get the room, Id be up for that I really would, lion taming?

Then it dawned, Dai wanted money of course, money.

"Its going to be difficult"

"Tell you what",
chirped in another room booker employee,
"we could check your details and have the money paid in tomorrow morning hows that"

"Tell me what the difficulty is or whether its a yes or no"

This stumped them, so I took the opportunity to speak while I had the chance of not being interrupted,

"To tell you the truth I think im better off having a bit of an explore around the area"

This was true, I also told them that most of the friends I had made from the bus were staying at this hotel. This was bending the truth slightly. I hadn't made any friends on this journey. At least I dint think so. I still however wanted to stay close to the group something was going on that I needed to find out about.

I asked Dai and the other employee whether id be permitted to visit my friends if I wasn't a guest staying at the hotel.

"No" Answered Dai abruptly, I think I had managed to piss him off. Chalk that one up to experience.

Dai's colleague said that if I stayed at the place down the road id get some sort of lodge card that would allow me access to lots of hotels including this one. The bars lounges and lobby spaces not the rooms. Fair enough I thought.

As I walked out. Dai joined. We had a chat I wanted to clear the air. After all he was just a person and people are people no matter who they are. So we talked. I told him what I was up to travelling from place to place. He mentioned I should have a better more respectful calmer style on the phone. I told Dai I was only joking around, because of his saying it would be difficult to get a room.

I couldn't believe he never revealed why it would be difficult. I said he could remember that for the future. I was thinking of sleeping it rough somewhere. Sleeping bag and stars. Dai pointed to the prices off a room for the night on the wall. Yeah I definitely made a good decision there.

Leaving Dai to his travelodge with its weird grey area, and high prices I went back to the bus.

Only it was the other bus,

A friend from before was making toast. It was the curly ginger haired man in Orange shorts. I remembered I had played with his son and told his son a story about no more apples. Thimbleberry that was his son's name. We exchanged pleasantries. The curly haired ginger man was toasting four slices of bread in the toaster.

Great I thought, I could boil up some water on here and have some pasta to eat. Odd my friend got older and older, white haired and in a jacket, he told me how he was enjoying the bus trip, I said so was I and that today had been wonderful, in fact everyday had been wonderful then I mentioned that today especially so as it was the only day I could remember the rest having vanished away.

I looked around the bus. In front of me another old man. Dressed in thick clothes. A woolly blue navy jumper, made from very thick wool, and a navy beret on top of his head. His face was pocked with pot-holes his skin a nice hazel brown hued colour he reminded me of an old police man from an English t.v show although he had a distinct French air about him, or maybe Belgium.

I looked behind and an old lady in a 1920's tan cloche stared long in my direction with her chestnut eyes

I dint know why I was on this bus full of old people. It was full. Everyone seemed to be eating something or the other. I thought perhaps the old people dint want to stay inside the weird hotel either.

So I decided that the walkway that ran between the seats of the bus of old people was to be my bed for the night.

I unzipped my sleeping bag got inside zipped it up again and went to sleep.

Thats all I can remember.

Saturday, 3 July 2010

Over fly!

Over fly!

Its strange to think were all apples just falling from the tree. At least I find it strange. To think were just falling. Falling falling. Flying flying flying. Overground.
Floating. Fly. Sunlight floats. It doesn't fall. Raindrops fly. Apples Falling. Knot falling. Floating. Flying. Sugar tastes sweet in both the sunshine and the rain.
Aye aye. Little changes. The colour of the apple skin. Grows. Up not down. Float float float your boat.

A seldom miserable onbirthday
to you to you
later suck the candle in my dear
and destroy your apathy
go false
Float fly fly
Over fly!