‘Six Wives of Henry’ All I asked for was a plain omelette. I was in France at the time so what I said must have got lost in translation. What I got served up was a mushroom omelette. I hated mushrooms. Always had. However, one bite later I discovered I loved mushrooms. That was about
‘A Hill with a View’ by Zoolon Just ½ an hour ago I got stopped by a lady in the street who said, “I’m in dire need of puzzles”. True. I had no idea if this was a question or not, so I grinned a hopeless grin and walked on. Ultra odd. Early hours, Sunday.
I would have liked to take a photograph of the sign in the shop window that read, ‘OUR BIKINIS ARE EXCITING. THEY ARE SIMPLY THE TOPS’ but couldn’t as I was told about it rather than saw it for myself. Anyhow, my new album, ‘THE FORGOTTEN DAUGHTER OF ZEUS’ is, as of today, out there
‘Winter Morning, 2018’ ~ Zoolon It’s funny what happens when you start playing around with an acoustic guitar with just a phrase in your head. This time it was, ‘Darkness at Dawn’. Sometimes it works, most times not. This time, I think I might have a skeleton lyric. Right now I need new lyrics as
I took this photo on Christmas Eve. The statue lives in the Western Docks of Dover Harbour. I read the girl the two soldiers are holding is called ‘Victory’. The statue is a memorial created in remembrance of the 556 employees who worked on the railways and who died in service during World War I.
Still frame from ‘The Shape of Water’ ‘The drowning shoe’ Listening to the old bloke in front of me in the inevitable post office queue having a bit of a rant I was thinking, ‘that’s not entirely accurate’. What he was saying to the even older bloke in front was, “I’ve heard it all now.”
‘For Free’ by Zoolon The brainwasher wearing the grey suit that sparkled said he drove an Audi Quattro. He asked what I drove. I lied and said a skateboard. He asked why I didn’t wear, “A smart suit like mine”. I couldn’t be bothered to answer. Also, he looked like someone who might end up
‘The Way It Is’ by Zoolon Bored senseless, we roll the dice to see who gets to write the next line. Nothing better to do on the third day in a row of dark skies, Atlantic storms chasing each other through The Channel. Wet and windy. Windy and wet. Here’s what the dice gave us;
‘Une Grotte Quelque Part en Normandie’ by Zoolon The little old bloke with the peaked cap walks the main road into town each day. He carries a big bag and picks up all the street rubbish. He never wears gloves. He’s round-shouldered and his trousers are too short. He doesn’t speak to anyone. He just
‘The Death of Cleopatra’ by Guido Cagnacci – 1658 The air was still. The day was cold and bleak. From the chimney stack, all along either side of the rooftop there was a static murmuration of starlings looking a bit worried. I gave up counting when I got to sixty. In town, what’s left of