Well... Here I am again hardy seems like I've been gone....same faces at the bar ...

ashtrays not emptied....poo!

I don't even smoke.....

Christmas again so soon so soon!

Been busy packing..... anybody seen my Sellotape...

I'm going to the north of England for Christmas....My poor old Mother...she's a Wee bitty lonely and we'll have a ding dong until the Goose runs out ...Then ...

Well who knows.......

News....I won an ipod....Grief what a wonderful little thing.... for those who don't know .....it's the size of a large credit card....pencil thin....and already I have stowed 500 songs and 1500 photos.....well impressed...

Anybody know just how much eating is there on a goose?

Have yourselves a very merry Christmas.

Good Morning World

Hello to you all....

Echo echo echo......

Its late here in Manchester UK I've just added 1500 words today to my book

...oh whats the use who's listening......
I'm must be doing something wrong ...I'm new to this sort of communication....But why isn't there a mechanism to enable you all to know I'm here

....Robinson Crusoe must have felt the same ....Who will be my first footprint in the sand?

Fat Elvis

FAT ELVIS

Beatle
Mop tops
Two a Penny Lane
Rolling Stones
Not satisfied not fade away
When fat Elvis was the king

Fashion passion
Ray really got me going
In the summer time
So it's down that road again

With the Nashville Teens
Where Jimmy Hendrix through thick blue smoke
Was the guitar wizard of the joint
And Jim Morrison,
Dangerouse awaiting as the lizard king

LSD
Purple hearts
Two a penny lane
Flower power
Make peace not war
When fat Elvis was the king


No stoppin 'poppin'
for sad blues queen Janis
Who couldn't stop running
So it's down that road again
With Spencer Davis
Vietnam the killing fields flow with children
The answer is blowing in the wind
But will you still love me tomorrow?

Still Life with Copper Kettle

This large canvas is just fabulous....

Now that might sound a tad immodest

....But grief...

Life's too short to wait for deserving praise...well if Vincent had felt that way he'd kept both his ears.

By the way this painting is for sale.

The Attic...an extract of my boyhood

The Attic

Many of the dusty cold rooms were empty, although some, containing boxes of spilled and pillaged storage were still reasonably clean but most were damp and sordid with peeling yellow walls. The smell of musk and dampening mildewed paper invaded every audible heartbeat as I crept stepping in time with all of my wildest nightmares and worst imaginings. The blue black light beyond was my goal as I tremulously inched toward the small garret window that would open and lead me out and up on to the roof where sweet dark sky and icey stars awaited accompanied by the glistening rain. How I longed to be once more into that fresh tingle that joyous midnight air to see and hear the clatter of the shipyard night shift at the river and the distant factory flame lit like Christmas reminders of the real world, a safe world, where no bogey man could exist and boys would live to fight another day.

A Little touch of wind

A fine and distinctive taste in fine food is all very well but Blue Marlin in Chili often repeats.

20 Minute Cook

Blue Marlin steak in sweet chili sauce

Advocado and tomato vingerette with white wine potato salad,

Manderin and stilton cheese mayonnaise.

Wine -Chablis.

First Night Blog Blues

First Night Blues Portait

First night blog blues.....
The first day at school was like this.... I was lost and shy , feeling ugly and useless,
The moment was white hot and overwhelming and I wet myself, so did everyone else!
Anyway.... welcome to my studio.

George Best and Black Dog Day

George Best and Black Dog Day
Saturday....
Grief it's raining...again ....
Poor old George, the worlds greatest football player, buried by the tabloid press this morning....nothing new there then......whilst the nation watched listening to endless platitudes and more journalistic requiem....I know what he would have said.....
Do you know...do you even care there are only 22 days to Christmas.............
During the past week my mood had been worsening; in these few days before Christmas day. I am contantly on edge, scratchy, and in a deep dark depression. Each morning I say to myself,
, ‘There will be no mauldling ways today, you will walk smartly put a spring in your step, bush up my tail
I will endeavour to start the day with a will, run a bath, shave,
and dress.
Something smartish, the sort of thing which will guarantee a response,
Oh aye? And where are you going? All dressed up.
The fact is, you're not ‘all dressed up’ you have just changed from chronically dated casual, thus giving the unaccustomed and inexperienced, the illusion of elegance
Once out of the bath you dress in a clean white, 'A, might have done with an iron', shirt
Have you ever given thought to why men of a certain age grow fatter when it’s a known fact that they eat far less than they used to.
Anyway, you continue to struggle into trousers,
ensuring that the top, comfort only, loosed button is well covered by the belt buckle.
After dressing you go down stairs to meet the morning.
Dear God, the acrid smell of stale tobacco, next door's black dog and 5 sleeping cats. It never ever smells like that during the evening when you’re watching Football, imbibing, relaxing with a paris goblet filled to the brim with Amarone.
Cleanup, open windows feed the cats
What's with this fucking dog!...
Get down!Now! that’s a good girl.
Down you crazy bastard!!
Down!
Down you bitch!
The dog cowers, whilst the cats nervously watch their noses pushed up against the glazed doors from the dining room.
I fill the kettle, boil the water,
‘Lets make coffee that’s a sound idea ...and toast, that’s right start as you mean to go on’.
No milk!
Oh! I don’t believe this.
Neither do the cats.
God, I hate black coffee,
so do the cats!
Starting the day off on a proper footing,
its important to do it with breakfast,
it sets you up.
The toaster refuses to engage,
the slide mechanism having long since disappeared, it was easily overcome, by inserting the blade of a small pointed kitchen knife down into the slide slot.
Alas, it had given up the ghost,
green and blue sparks flashed angrily, black acrid smoke curls.
As the cheery postman, waving, passed by the window, leaving my recent life's meaning lying scattered across the mat.
Bills and spills
and this and that.