“Hello lovely.” A fellow “mature” philosophy student, Anna adored alliteration. Even, dare I say, found it sexy. Sorry I could only manage three words my dear. Fiercely intelligent, a fellow philosophy graduate from my Uni and a person who would, I hope, have liked this reflection, recently had a full stop on breathing. Anna loved dogs, much like Hitler. She’d a sense of humour too and would appreciate me making that comparison. Anna was bloody funny. Brave yet wayward, my pal was always passionate: boasting a son she couldn’t love more, but struggled with the realities of. He was an excellent kid last time I saw him, despite her motherly complaints. Anna’s dog died recently. Her ex died recently. These things take their toll, and I know she loved them both deeply. Her dog was amazing, I never met her ex but her love was unconditional and everlasting. We tended to speak and meet between partners and/or mental health troubles. That was our bond and I now regret it wasn’t firmer. Posthum
In the morning the policemen went to open the cell, there was all manner of noise and banging coming from it. On opening the door they were knocked aback by the odour of excrement, and then physically by a fattened pig charging past them, snorting its fat head off. The man was nowhere to be seen; quite a mystery! The police captured the pig and it was sent to a farm to roll around in muck for the rest of days, for after all it was no better than a beast, and beasts are happy in muck.
Popular posts from this blog
“Fill this with beer, and I will give you money” Those words will forever be my reminder. I can't write a raised eyebrow. An arched, sardonic, eyebrow twisted to one side of the face, condensing the other to a slit. The wry look at you as the oculus expresses the hidden humour, the knowing joy behind the presented cynicism. The corner of the mouth twitches, unable to quite contain it. Ok it turns out I can, roughly, but it's still not as good as he did it. Five years ago my beloved, funny, rambunctious and as or more flawed than me, friend finally died after cancer weaved its wicked web of pain and misery through him. Through him and worse, back into the living. The insidious little shit that is cancer, like the bully it should be called, continued to create conflict when we thought the worst was done. Matt spiralled into the unknown in a way that was so banal it'll tear you open. A man of his charisma, his jollity, slowly, painfully and worst, robbed of hi
Ingredients 8 lemons (all the lemons you can fight for at Tesco), two hand size pieces of ginger, ¼ that amount of fresh turmeric, you can use the powdered stuff but fresher the better, and if you have a need to bring mucus up or want to have a fiery poo, throw in some cayenne pepper. Cooking time: 45 minutes After my culinary forays into Ensure and fusilli I though I'd bring some full on fuck you flu fun Method Buzzwords such as wellness, immunopositive and christhisisspicylemonjuice have been bandied around about this drink. Mainly by me. They may or may not be accurate buzzwords, but It does taste a lot like lemons. This lemon (forewarned), ginger and turmeric drink could well be good for you. I’m not a doctor but I’m also not sick and enjoy conning myself that putting things in me makes for good health. I did ask a doctor about the science involved but he said he was busy and to stop wasting his time. Full of stuff that’s probably beneficial to humans