Thursday, January 13, 2005

Strange Weather Lately 

The North Wind doth blow and we shall have rain, buckets and buckets of rain, lifting up the roof tiles and rattling the windows out of their frames.

Girlfriend sleeps through it all in a golden Benylin haze, but the constant drumming of the weather keeps me awake, anxious, fretting, so I tiptoe to the window and take a look.

The wheelie bins have broken loose from their moorings and are waltzing upstreet downstreet with gay abandon -
“Miss Recycling Bin, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
“Why Miss Non-recyclable, I thought you’d never ask!”

- and swishes of rain are rushing up the window pane, and the cats are barking and the dogs are meowing, and plastic bags blow blow blow your boat gently down the street, and there you are in your dressing gown and PJs, glass of water in one hand and umbrella in the other, what a glorious feeling, you’re happy again! and before you know it it’s one two three o’clock, four o’clock rock, five o’clock and it’s time for Jones The Insomniac to go and raise the Union Jack at the Ex-Servicemen’s, look! - there he goes now, crumpled and grey as dead man’s bed linen, God help this skip and all who sail in her, we leave for France tonight, but duvet is calling out your name, your name! so softly you slumber home bedwards, heavily heavily heavily heavily, life is but a dream.

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