A rebel without a clue.

It was 7:30 on a Tuesday morning in 1991 on that fateful day. I was dragged to Garforth to be questioned about the drug problems in Wetherby and specifically at the high school. I didn't know this was ever going to happen, I feared another visit from the police was in the offing for an entirely different reason. Luckily my dad was out at work already and it was just my mum and I: my dad had a real temper. My mum didn't know I'd ever done drugs and she was very disappointed and ashamed of me. I was driven in a Vauxhall Cavalier to meet my destiny with fingering prints and mug shots to be questioned. I realize that someone at Wetherby high must've spoken to their parents about the burgeoning drug culture amongst the sixth form(mainly the upper sixth) and word maybe got to a the police to get along and speak to the culprits. To me being invited along for this interview was interesting and experimental: I didn't let the weight of the event effect me perhaps as much as ...

What more do I need...except weather like today, birds chirping and geese chattering, snoops in the river fetching the whole breadth of the channel, the distant sounds of a prop plane, golfers striking clubs on balls, swallows diving over the calm shrinking waters, joggers...work, relationships and money perhaps? A thrush is my mothers garden searching for food, grubs in her hanging baskets and plant plots while snoops lays supine on his cream polyester throw and snoozes content after our 2 hour hike and swim(he swam). Snoops stretches and swallows. Leaning backwards as his breath settles into that sighing deep satisfied slumber. Some how that feeling has spread to me. On returning to the house I curled up next to the dog and dropped to sleep. Out for 2 hours. By 2:40 I'm in the garden still following the dogs singular example: lingering over sleep, but the choral tunes I hear prevent my drifting like an ancient man. Slightly irregular day. Off to Leeds 4:20. Bus has 4...