The final Ghost (for a while)
Nothing fills a man when he's hungry for love.
I still can't stand the people who run bar thr3. If it wasn't for Thatcher's Katy, platinum blonde Lucy and a short list of options in Wetherby; I'd not even have my funeral there. The way Ron dresses down staff within hearing of the clientele. The music of choice is Rod Stewart singing covers, Barry Manilow somber sad ballads and Muzak on repeat skipping and stuttering on the multichanger.
Mum did damage her kneecap. Cracked, broken, busted, 6 weeks in a cast. Makes you wonder how many breaks we all have without investigating further? She's now stuck. Unable to work the garden, walk the dog, do her little jobs, etc. She has to use a kermode and crawl up and down the stairs. I'm her gopher.
Saw the most one sided game Saturday. Man united out played and well beaten by skillful and creative Barcelona. Second half especially. 3 shots to 17. Nuff said. Relief. One less trophy for Alex Ferguson.
Little known fact. I've left the house to rain now the whole week: even if only slightly. Today is too much...plodding around the inngs with Snoops. Stop! I have my own personal cloud.
Somber music in bar thr3, saw Scott and Megan, +co., but music too dismal. Returned to New Inn.
1 pint, a packet of Quavers and back to read.
Quiet weekend, tomorrow is d day moving finally and sorting all the bills out.
I may just take a break from the blog, while I get on my next adventure. I think that I'm writing just for the sake of more postings
Every person in Wetherby discusses just three 'very' important things: the night before, the football and the weather. Cricket sometimes (sport in general). Desperate for regaling the crowd with sober recall of drunken spree the night before. And sport. Never ending judgements on footballers, teams, managers, etc. So what.
I am surrounded by bored individual with solitary braincells blowing in the breeze. If only I could just go and live a kind of truth the way I did in Croatia. Simple reality. Fact finding and soul cleansing.
WD maybe one of the shallow individuals I've ever met. I thought him alright until I saw his onemanship and his need to be the inner circle. Limited to flapping his wings against the window unable to move into his own light. He hopes to gather some spark to manifest a shine. I think he's one of those kids who play up to bullies and become the right hand man. Just pander and dance.
9:38 99bus is the one containing all the OAPs. DG is on here looking fringe worthy.
Clothing hanging, arches making next to keystones and Yorkshire grit. Appended to house like folly building and face shaping. The sun mixing left with part clouds; driving into a bank on Wetherby Road, Scarcroft.
Those old men playing chess under in the shade of rowan trees in Split harbor and the young girl having a siesta in the afternoon sun on the bench next door: that is peace.
Coffee, Coffee and bakewell tart
A room flutters with chattering gnashers. Still 90% female. Occasionally single but most often paired. Discussions of method and protraction in temporary clasp. Between men and football and women and gossip I could never hear that crescendo again. Last night I heard a buzzing all night, couldn't locate it at 1am. I wonder where that new sound came from?
I still can't stand the people who run bar thr3. If it wasn't for Thatcher's Katy, platinum blonde Lucy and a short list of options in Wetherby; I'd not even have my funeral there. The way Ron dresses down staff within hearing of the clientele. The music of choice is Rod Stewart singing covers, Barry Manilow somber sad ballads and Muzak on repeat skipping and stuttering on the multichanger.
Mum did damage her kneecap. Cracked, broken, busted, 6 weeks in a cast. Makes you wonder how many breaks we all have without investigating further? She's now stuck. Unable to work the garden, walk the dog, do her little jobs, etc. She has to use a kermode and crawl up and down the stairs. I'm her gopher.
Saw the most one sided game Saturday. Man united out played and well beaten by skillful and creative Barcelona. Second half especially. 3 shots to 17. Nuff said. Relief. One less trophy for Alex Ferguson.
Little known fact. I've left the house to rain now the whole week: even if only slightly. Today is too much...plodding around the inngs with Snoops. Stop! I have my own personal cloud.
Somber music in bar thr3, saw Scott and Megan, +co., but music too dismal. Returned to New Inn.
1 pint, a packet of Quavers and back to read.
Quiet weekend, tomorrow is d day moving finally and sorting all the bills out.
I may just take a break from the blog, while I get on my next adventure. I think that I'm writing just for the sake of more postings
Every person in Wetherby discusses just three 'very' important things: the night before, the football and the weather. Cricket sometimes (sport in general). Desperate for regaling the crowd with sober recall of drunken spree the night before. And sport. Never ending judgements on footballers, teams, managers, etc. So what.
I am surrounded by bored individual with solitary braincells blowing in the breeze. If only I could just go and live a kind of truth the way I did in Croatia. Simple reality. Fact finding and soul cleansing.
WD maybe one of the shallow individuals I've ever met. I thought him alright until I saw his onemanship and his need to be the inner circle. Limited to flapping his wings against the window unable to move into his own light. He hopes to gather some spark to manifest a shine. I think he's one of those kids who play up to bullies and become the right hand man. Just pander and dance.
9:38 99bus is the one containing all the OAPs. DG is on here looking fringe worthy.
Clothing hanging, arches making next to keystones and Yorkshire grit. Appended to house like folly building and face shaping. The sun mixing left with part clouds; driving into a bank on Wetherby Road, Scarcroft.
Those old men playing chess under in the shade of rowan trees in Split harbor and the young girl having a siesta in the afternoon sun on the bench next door: that is peace.
Coffee, Coffee and bakewell tart
A room flutters with chattering gnashers. Still 90% female. Occasionally single but most often paired. Discussions of method and protraction in temporary clasp. Between men and football and women and gossip I could never hear that crescendo again. Last night I heard a buzzing all night, couldn't locate it at 1am. I wonder where that new sound came from?
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