Wanna Be Londoners

London is full of people pretending not to be from somewhere else, a number of whom I know from my home town of Carlisle!

Medlock and Wagtail

A Wagtail deftly flits from stone to trolley amongst the Manchester Medlock as the little river gushes from an underground stint beneath Oxford Road. The waters are clear and sparkle all the more as they enter the piercing new light of the day. The dog legged stint boils with gusto for a few moments more before returning back under the city from whence it came, replenished all the while as it runs off with the quick drain early morning rain. The Wagtail doth stay on however, to hunt within the confines of it's urban domain, and Medlock and Wagtail are seemingly unperturbed, by crisp packets, road signs, bottles and sin.

Square Peg Round Hole

To those who say I am shit at what I do, I say that is what happens when you force a square peg into a round hole, and you can never say I don't try.

Different Folks

I have noted of the human condition that we all have our own way of doing things, and we all think our own way is the best way, this difference in practice even exists within families and between life long friends, harmony is usually however maintained, until such things are done together.

Never Say Never

To those who say I am a failure, I say I have not yet finished.

For Robert's Wife

It’s time you boys were home now - Bruce, Robert, Adam, Victor... And Robert, I wanted you home for your birthday, it’s been two weeks for some time, and your little girl needs you, I need you. The North Sea does not however; it’s a cold bleak horror by day and a colder black horror by night, and it’s by night I think of you always, mostly by night, when rest fails me under our blankets; How may I rest whilst you have none? You will have been guided by Peterhead light as you came home to me that night, and yet, you could have been left out there forever; twelve miles out of sight. Alas, the ‘Sapphire,’ she is home with us now, she clutches unscathed to the Port’s thick arm, an empty vessel awaiting a debate to establish her fate. She reminds me, that we have your vessels home too now, for the sea cannot have those, I have need of a grave for you Robert, so I can take our only daughter to you, with each time she looks for her daddy.

Memory Trouble

My memory must only be located in the left side of my brain, for I only truly have capacity to recall that which, in my mind, may be considered artistic.

The Fool

The wisest man, more often than not, has already been the fool