Why is it as you’re wandering along the road and someone trips over and crashes on the pavement that you’re the only one to help them up?

What is it about the look on your face that attracts the drug crazed beggar to ask you for ‘help’?

How many times will you be asked for directions before you get sick of it?

If this is you then read my new book called ‘fuck off’. Available at a store near you.

Just when I thought this blog was dead someone come visits. It just won’t die.

This month has been interesting so far.  Being in London is like being in a constant state of motion. There really is no come down in this place. Even getting to and from your house you are beset with people, things and noise. I can understand why some people hate it. It’s a constant challenge to get milk.

I love it. There is something about being entertained by buskers as you wander down to the tube. Being swamped by a crowd of people mindlessly walking to wherever, ignoring that you’re there so you can have a game of bullrush while you’re thirty six.

Or even better laughing at their protests and disbelief when you don’t move for them, but bowl them instead. ‘You can’t do that, you’re only one and I had 20 people behind me ……’. Pack mentality rules here.

… standing around their man bags talking about their hair.

Seriously. Pub after work last night.

This is agency life. Media take you out for a drink. We all have man bags.

And you stand around your man bags talking about your barnet.

Everyone said this was gay at home but you couldn’t get 5 more alpha guys.

Anyway, went shopping today. New armani jacket and zara manbag he he.

Love it here. I’m home.

somethings are quite opportunistic in life and this is one. Drinking for free.

It is another sunny warm day in London as the wonders of smog extends summer throughout September.

Time to get out and about and look at what has been stolen by the British from other countries. Not that I mind, it is part of the charms of London to see that theft is ok as long as it is done to protect and preserve someone elses treasures

As it gets darker, colder
I don’t think about the colour of my coat
I just pull it tighter around me
colour doesn’t make it warmer

As I wonder the streets
I don’t check the logo on my shoes
I just worry the tread will remain
Logos don’t keep my feet from harm

The make of that tap
it won’t make it turn any better
It will only match shower walls
that can’t get me wet

The packaging doesn’t grow
The apples that I buy
they simply hold them
as I carry them from the shop

Free of this, free at last,
I shed skin of affluence
And now as I pull on my jeans
I appreciate, at last, my luck

Money buys me warmth
buys me safety
helps me wash
hides me in crowds

Time to go hide in Chelsea

Wonder where this will go ….

I’m currently sitting in cafe nero with my quite nice latte (competes on a level with Wellington) and typing away via BT Openzones free, unlimited, highspeed Wifi network.

Free? Yes I’m an O2 mobile broadband customer on PAYG £15 per month and that gets me access to wifi where openzone is which is pretty much everywhere. I can even get it intermittently at home if I sit in the right part of my room.

Not bad huh!

title has nothing to do with post

which is about face

I supposed you could call it

arse about face

Each day a gust carrying you backward
further away toward the horizon
growing distant, smaller, insubstantial
time your wind releasing anchors of you
seeing you disappear, sink into deep blue