Everyone still there? Good. So are we all. Reports of our death greatly exaggerated then. OK, moving on…
A good had was all by night at the Ale Wagon where I had a friends’ excuse-me; Peter followed by Jan. All jolly good fun and a brisk walk home in the cold and rain. Unfortunately the several pints I had last night are now causing a fog in the frontal lobes of my brain and I’m finding it hard to think of anything to say. In the meantime here is some light music, a poem about that unpronounceable Icelandic volcano a couple of years back and the ash it deposited on car roofs:
And it brought back to me my childhood
every second thought killed by a scream
of metal straining to get into heaven.
Long, long ago before the Fall
there was a time of peace. Like this
brief moment between thought and Word.
And it seemed to come from hell, the fire and smoke
(and some said Earth was taking her revenge
though others said that stuff was nonsense).
The sweat of vapour gone, the sky is innocent.
Washed. Only the ash Invisible rains down
(as cars are witness).
Now coaches come, trains shuttle, boats ferry. Taxis triumph.
Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Meanwhile here is some light music.
OK there you go. I’ll leave you with this song parody, for alien believers:
Then I saw her tentacles
now I’m a believer…