A rebel without a clue.

A change in the weather: much cooler and therefore more liveable for the dogs. Archie has gone for his midday rest and I've begun another week of this: BAE and a chapter, a fresh orange juice and a chapter and then back for lunch? Three weeks left of this long summer in Wetherby? With the breeze comes another form of reprieve. Perhaps the cycles of heatwaves is over? But I think it'll be back at the end of August I predict... To get out of Wetherby! Wow. I forgot how much I like my own bed. The flat might be in an awful, messy section of the carbuncle which is Leeds, West Yorkshire, but it's my 'home'; being here for 5 years come October... Means something. Just to have a coffee around dawn as the sun rises in the east and I overlook the surrounding area... Now it's time to bathe and head back to Wetherby for a few more days... If the weather 'improves', ie gets cooler and wetter, then the dogs and I can do other stuff? No rain. Plenty of grey clouds and...

Three entire weeks left of Archie by my side on a morning. I don't know how others 'dog sit', but I actually sit by the side of him regularly and he always sits with me between dawn and walk. As he looks up at me in the morning, at the bottom of the bed, and I cuddle him closely, he seems genuinely happy with those huge eyes and as they glimmer. He has a tendency to go looking for a ball later on to give to me to play with: but that's an obsessive action which has become a part of his behaviour, and probably led to his back end paralysis issue which effects his gate. In Lola that aspect is absolutely devoid. She's also happy by my side for cuddles and kisses. And I rarely play ball. *** Yesterday was a day of tiredness and endurance. Finally at nine pm, after a final walk around the block, and as clouds increased in the west threatening to pour down into Yorkshire, I called Sunday complete and collapsed on the bed(not in it on this sultry day as the room at the top ...

So far so full/busy. From the moment I left the house with Archie at 6:40am and sat down to write this account at 12:45pm. Lola and Archie are both enthroned in their separate positions. Lola on the sofa and Archie in Lola's usual chair(don't let anyone know, though)! This morning I feel that another attempt to bridge a gap between Adrian and me has fallen into the ravine once more... He told me not to pick any of the tomatoes (I gave him) 'please'. They've turned into 'his' tomatoes rather than ones I nutured since February then gave him... Maybe I am misinterpreting his meaning, but at no point was I considering taking any of 'his' tomatoes even though I have tended to them ever since I gave them to him... He's often away for 2 weeks and they will die of thirst if this Summer of '20 continues along the same lines? At the allotment I watered everything and pruned a lot of courgettes and have dug up the vast majority of the Swift(or Rocket) f...

Finally, as my eyesight fails me, a book worthy of squinting in the badly lit space opposite the bar in Bar Three... East of Eden . And I've had to take my glasses off to see any of the too fine print in this dark chamber. It's a fine novel and reminds me of One Hundred Years of Solitude  for some obscure reason: I've been waiting a long time to delve into such a glorious scrap of paper... *** At 8pm I hung up Archies collar and lead on the floor. Having just had him out from 6 for a rough hour to the river, and it's human detritus, and back I thought he was looking at me(and letting of a little gas) because he needed yet another crap! So out we went to Sandringham Park field where he spent another few moments sniffing, licking and pissing on certain spots around the field,  like a notice board being read for every notification, before we climbed up the wooden hill to reach the sanctuary of the room at the top where the gassing continued while I faded into a good night...

Leeds is such a lonely city Bumper to bumper; stretching home. There they sit surrounded by walls Here I sit defined by brick and glass The lights switch on Pouring waves against The clashes in denial Unnatural and beyond me. They do this willingly? Everyday the gap grows And community shrinks Lungs fill up in a last choke Another puffs a cigarette Double destiny being such sorrow A way too dense to pull out Harming everything we ever had It is a picture of the end Days left spluttering, Cough and the life fades.

Aghh! Monday morning and I had no coffee beans in their Delonghi machine... How did man cope in the morning before the sudden appearance of Arabica and Robusta? On small beer or some leaf with some caffeine in it? Other than tea? Although tea goes back centuries when did it reach the west? Time to gather myself together shortly for the dismal trip to Leeds just to collect any mail from the DWP; it is pending. A few moments ago I thought I was enjoying Wetherby then I was reminded that this can never be the case... In moments I dwell in happiness, but it's too brief. A man without a t-shirt on walks into The Oven Door and I wonder...they probably serve him without a moment's pause. Archie and I called into Emma's to feed her fish and went up to the allotment to water Andy's celery and our tomatoes and courgettes: this warm week might bring some colour to those many which are green? A wasp alighted on the page I was reading and cleaned it's antennae as I pondered Lewi...

Brilliant afternoon on Saturday. Catching the x70 to The Stray and walking into Harrogate. Having a few hours away from sterile Wetherby. Wasn't drunk but woke at 3 having had a full night's sleep, uninterrupted, again. But struggled back into sleep until I definitely awoke at 6, two coffees, one Oatsosimple and an hour around Wetherby up the old A1 (A168). Back to chill before heading to the allotment for around two hours. The lamb Madras I bought on Thursday, and ate over three days, has played havoc with my bowels! Dropped Archie at mum's and popped out to listen to 4 tedious posh birds discuss giving birth and planning an oh so stereotypical hen party. It can't be any fun being that middle of the road. They're perfect early 30s. Oohing and aahing at photos of babies. There is nothing to them. Now I will need to wait until next Saturday to escape this meaningless chatter... It's the kind of banality which makes me turn to the bottle. One down and three to go....