The Chemist
Thursday February 19th 2015, 9:02 am
Filed under: Uncategorized


I start the day
With a visit to the Pharmacy
To get the remainder of my life saving pills
And straight away it’s happening again
The Pharmacy is wasting my time
All Pharmacies are steeped in a culture of time wasting
And here is a cast iron forged example
I came three days ago with the prescription
And as I am not daft
I gave them the prescription
Telling them I would collect it tomorrow
I came back the following day
And amazingly they made me wait ten fucking minutes
For something that was in a bag on a shelf
The main man eventually headed towards me
Which mean’t it was going to be short
So I am here again today
And the shop is completely empty
I give the counter woman the note
She turns and puts it in a small green basket
Right under the noses of these highly qualified beancounters
The counter woman wanders off into the shop front
While I stand there staring at the green basket
Willing them to look at it
But they don’t
Five minutes pass…nothing
I go up to the counter woman
Who is shuffling shampoo on a shelf
“Excuse me…nobody is paying attention to the green basket”
“Oh”
She goes and moves the green basket slightly to the right
She is staring at them silently
As if she has no power to command them
These powerfully qualified Sentinels of the Pharmacy
I am willing it on from my side of the counter
Here we go we have a glance
I almost clap as she picks it from the basket
Then two minutes pass
I speak to the counter woman again
“What’s happening…it should just be on a shelf”
“Oh…no…it’s not made up”
I make a tiny sigh
And a tiny head shake
My mind is screaming
“IT’S FUCKING BUBBLE WRAPPED IN A BOX”
There is still only me in the shop
Here it is…here it comes…it’s complete
8 minutes today
18 minutes total



Another Return
Friday February 06th 2015, 2:33 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

It just dawned on me
Like it often does When your in the middle of a sentence
Your mouth is saying one thing
But your brain suddenly gets an idea
As my voice droned on
I realised the reason I stopped writing
Was because of the job itself
When I took up the Hackney licence I was then tied to days only
Writers block was not my problem
It was the boredom
Trapped in stressful traffic With miserable people who rarely speak
Now with my day job lost I have had to switch to nights
No choice
On a night there is no traffic
And most of the passengers are in a good mood
After having a long term disregard of nights
By complete accident I have become a fan
Cast adrift in early January I had started to think that maybe there was going to be no more
I had fled in a random direction
And been on the run for nearly 5 weeks
Before the Taxi guards had caught up with me
Wandering aimlessly lost
They dragged me back to Stalag Taxi
And put me back to work
Now I can feel its addictive nature again
The one thing that I do well
The one thing from which I must escape
As it slowly embraces and comforts me
It’s quite good I hear myself saying
I start at six Finish at two
I go straight to sleep
Get up at ten
And have the whole day free
Every day of the week
But not surprisingly I need probably 50% more energy to run this new operation
I have gone from a 12 hour active day
To an 18 hour active day
Already I have noticed That I am not eating enough
And I keep conking out during the day
I try to get on with useful stuff
But I have become The fly around the light bulb again
Then my mind drifts back to thoughts of escape
But my escape committee lacks expertise
Which means I either become an expert
Or I enlist one to aid me
The latter being the most difficult
To instil your vision of the promised land Into one who may aid you
Is a task that has stalled my optimism
And my stalled vessel drifts into space
Re-orbiting the light bulb
And on the difficulty of articulating your ideas
It probably ranks alongside reciting a dream



Snow Mobile
Friday March 15th 2013, 3:45 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


Snow lay all around this morning
That wonderful peaceful lack of sound
When you open the door
The cab was chugging away in the driveway
And bear in mind
Normally in the snow
The London cab is a completely useless brick
But to my great surprise
Snow tyres have turned it into a virtual snowmobile
It’s a worthwhile lesson
To all those people abandoning their cars
To all those stuck in a hedge
Just buy two spare wheels
And put some winter tyres on them
Keep them in the shed
It’s only for the drive wheels see
It’s all you need

I drifted straight down to the station
No cabs and a queue of around thirty
One man got in
(you think they would organise themselves into a share in these conditions)
We were heading straight out of town along the coast
A journey he should have taken last night
But there was a transport collapse
Followed by a stay in a hotel
We discussed this and the weather for the first five minutes
But at the end of each paragraph
I felt that I sounded dumb
Like I was a thick cabbie
There was another quick exchange
Again…Mr Stupid
What had happened to my speech
I had another stab
Thought I would pull something a little more intellectual out of the bag
Back to the weather
I mentioned that I had been looking at the wind patterns
As part of the anti-cyclone
But half way through it was inarticulate toffee
Shit…maybe there is something wrong with me
Maybe I am becoming stupid
Perhaps this job makes you stupid
Is it possible that the great Fred Housego is now stupid
I mean despite his media career
He still kept driving cabs

No Spencer
Your just a bit worn out
Twelve days on the trot

I rolled up at the church rank
Bryan said hello from his window
But I was distracted by some bunting and flowers behind the shelter
“Who’s died?” I said
‘Me…I have’ said Bri
I got out to have a look
Oh…seems one of the dossers had died
There was a teddy bear pinned to the tree
Below which were sporadically placed messages
They seemed a tad more eloquent than me today
Seems he was a father
There were no drunk jokes
The one from his wife was the biggest
She seemed keen to join him…’soon’ as she put it
I returned to the cab
‘I am dead’ continued Bri
‘Here!’ he passed me a letter through the window
I turned it the right way up
It was a letter from Santander…declaring him dead
Including a detailed list of debts that needed paying by his estate
“Well you look alright to me Bri”
‘That’s the second time in the last six months that they’ve killed me off’
‘They gave me £500 in compensation last time’
‘I’ve got an appointment at three to sort it out’
“Don’t go…cancel it”
“Go and see one of those No Win No Fee lawyers”
“If they offered you £500 without you asking and then did it a second time”
I could see him glazing over
What I was saying was too ‘out of his box’
I pressed him
But all I could see was meek blankness
Don’t get me wrong
I am no fan of the No Win No Fee carousel
But where a bank is concerned
“You’ve got to cancel Bri” I tried again
A customer got in and killed the exchange
He’s always whingeing about being skint
Maybe he should join me
In whingeing about being stupid



A Return
Thursday July 21st 2011, 12:37 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


Saturday morning
Two jobs in
And I stop by Montpellier Crescent
Handbrake on…drop back the seat…and close my eyes
And slip into my daily meditation
Not ideal
As a job could come through any minute
But this is the nature of this job
Everything fits around it
My mind clears for but a moment
Before being assaulted by thoughts
What happened to my blog?
This question was held amongst the other thoughts
Instead of clearing I focussed on it

Could I return to the blog proper?
Why indeed did I stop?
It was I have decided…Post Traumatic Stress
Three years ago I entered my heart operation with an ease
I remained cool
While other patients around me appeared pensive and panicky
Recovery was approached in the same manner
At first steady and measured
Until 6 months later
I was tipped back into work by intense necessity
The killer stress bird
Perched itself on my telegraph line
Waiting for me to crack or die
Doomy and gloomy thoughts were born in the phantom zone of my mind
Leaving me in the grip of stupidity from time to time

Just a few weeks ago
I think I reached the final phase
Certainly I hope so
On a few occaisions in the last six months
I had pressure on my chest
It felt similar to the angina I used to have
Add to that a tingly left arm
And my mind was primed
The doctor told me my blood pressure was a little high
And that was it
Complete panic
I thought I was going to die
Or probably just as bad
Have another bypass
I was impulsively compelled to read everything the internet had to offer
Mrs Dial thought I was being ridiculous
But I couldn’t stop
A few days into it and I had to stop working
Anxiety attacks were starting
Boosted by sitting in the drivers seat
Get out and they would calm down

It was an awfully dark week
But as it passed
I could feel the anxiety running out of steam
My logic settled on the idea
That I could maintain my position
If I could make sure that there could be no more deterioration
My loony studies seemed to be paying off
In that I found a common thread
Amongst all the potential quackery
I started to have some clear confidence arising

Everything pointed to the ph level of our bodies
Keep yourself on the alkaline side
So your body can run at its optimum
And it will heal itself

As I am the sort of person who needs a system
I quickly put one together
2 litres of alkaline water (ph 9.5)
Which I buy from a local juice bar
Grabbing a wheatgrass shot while I am there
An alkaline breakfast with 2 tablespoons of soya lecithin
A midday drink of cayenne pepper and lemon
Lunch…a vegan salad
And the evening meal is a more relaxed affair
Sometime allowing the balance to flow the other way

No more meat
No more bread
No more coffee or tea
No booze or pot
No sweets sugar cakes or biscuits
And probably other things that I can’t remember right now
This all started to add up to depression
Not only deprived of fine tasting foods
I felt the exclusion of a recovering alchoholic
And eating food in this system
Means you can only enter select stores to buy food

But two weeks of effort passed
And I was transformed
The depression trailed away
I felt great
My weight had recently reached
What I thought was its low balance
Where it requires great effort just to remove another pound
But to my surprise
Another half stone disappeared
All of my various aches and pains vanished
Creating a youthful reverse
My sense of smell seemed to be boosted by half
Cholesterol was recorded at the doctors
An all time low of 3.4
I was 10.2 at my worst four years ago
And most oddly
The rampant static shocks from the cab seemed to have stopped
Which is one of the most quirky things about the alkaline theory

I snapped back my thoughts
And cleared my mind
Entering a peaceful space
That was too much thinking
I was indulging in thought there
And now I am thinking about the fact that I ‘was’ thinking
I cleared my mind again
Then jerked
There was a knock at the window

This is not a rank where people get in normally
There was a scruffy unshaven man with slghtly crazy eyes
I dropped the window
Expecting some kind of request
But not so

He told me that he did have a flat just round the corner
Just so I should know he wasn’t a vagrant
I noticed the large holdall hanging from his shoulder
He continued to say
That he had been sleeping out in the parks
Just because he felt like it
With slightly wild expressions
He said he had enjoyed it immensly
“Do you know what?”
“I have fucked more women in the last week than I have for years”
“Just last night”
“This girl…Jane from Camden”
“Woke me up and asked me to fuck her”
“Half way through she demanded I fuck her in the arse”
His eyes broadened with his smile
I trailed off by indicating how well he had done
And buzzed the window back up

I gave up on the meditation
Instead watching a man in a combat jacket with a pitbull
Putting something in the bins
He kept spitting
Maybe once every two seconds
He turned to cross the road
The spitting continued a few more times
Until half way across the road
Out came what looked like a mug full of water
He stopped and looked down
Then yanked the dog and set off again

I sighed
Welcome back to taxi world



Sunday Supplement
Tuesday April 05th 2011, 2:01 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


Sunday mornings are quiet on the streets
But they are also a strange time
For interacting with the public
People in the state of deep fug after a night out
People who don’t come out during the week
Folks who go to church
Thereby unveiling themselves as christians
Others who normally catch buses but can’t wait that long on a Sunday

As I mull away on my list of Sunday users
Spidey sense suddenly kicks in and I hit the brakes
I do the usual apology to the passenger
What was it this time?
It was a common occurence
That I am sure most people are not aware of
Three cars bombing down a main road
The one in front decides to turn left
But doesn’t anticipate that the pedestrian aproaching the side street
Has got his head up his ass listening to his music
He marches across in one flowing move across an extended pavement
Car number 2 reacts late to the surprise brake lights
Then I…for once…not fully aware of the whole complete world around me
Slam on
My heart was racing a little this time

Rolled up to the rank and got out for some fresh air
Not for long…young man approaching…looks like he is heading for me
He gets in
I close the windows to the cold morning air
Then one minute later I wish I hadn’t
The guy…who is sat right next to me
Lets off a silent but deadly
It quickly envelops me
He stares straight ahead…probably in a savouring trance
I shorten my breath to tiny stabs
Not wanting to acknowledge
This is hard…I am fighting to maintain status
Then I notice the fan is on number one…it might be just enough
I carefully tilt the right vent
And it is just enough to give passage to my nose
A tiny trickle of air
Good grief…the fucker is out…and all the windows drop

A couple of shopping bag trips later I am called to a pub
A slight wiry old Irish fella gets in
He has one of those thick traveller type accents
I can barely understand him
But enough to make out The Crescent pub is the destination
Just as I am breaching the bottom of New England Hill
I put the car into third gear and ascend the hill
The Irishman puts his hand directly on top of the back of my hand on the gearstick
I am frozen…his hand remains
This is close quarter madness
I strain both my eyes left
He is staring straight ahead just like the farter
Thankfully there are no stroking or groping motions
I take a breath
Seven Dials is coming up
I gear down
Good lord…his hand gears down with me
The cab is stopped at the edge of the Dials waiting for an opening
I push it into first
The hand follows
Fuck Sake…
That’s it…I slide my hand out from underneath his
But his hand stays there on top of the gearstick
Should I ask him to change gear for me?
We cross the Dials
I change into second by holding the stick vertically
Ahhhh…The Crescent at last
He slides his hand from the gearstick…sighs
And leans left to get some money out of his pocket
Then coninues looking out of the front window and says
“Do you know where I can find any lesbians?”
“Try the Marlboro” I mumbled

I headed home for a break
And refil my camping mug
But was interupted as usual just as I was parking
The job was in the flats right next to me…and to go right across town
I wouldn’t have time to boil a kettle…damn
I pulled up directly outside the main door
Which was soon opened by a woman in a black outfit
She was shepherding another woman out of the door
And into the car
She was big with orange hair and looked distinctly unhappy
As we set off I could hear her crying in the back
This always creates a strange kind of tension
Prime directive applies in all of these particular cases
Just got to get there quick and disembark
Then the crying stops as she makes a call
She starts explaining to the person on the other end
That the woman who let her out of the door
Had invited her round for the day
And another woman had turned up
Shortly after the two got off with each other
Right in front of the big girl with orange hair
Really getting down to it
Until Big Orange started crying
The woman in the black outfit…quite a woman if I remember
They must be well under way back at the flat by now
By jingo…the things that are going on behind all these doors

Back at the rank…I fell asleep slightly
Tap on the window
It was the cab owner
He gave me an envelope
It said on the side
Refund….23 Ashburnham Drive
Inside was £10
Well well
This was from the rip off that I mentioned in my last despatch
The marvel of working for a cooperative instead of a company
They took the responsability for sending me there
And gave me back £2 more than I had been ripped off
How nice



The Funeral
Tuesday March 01st 2011, 10:00 am
Filed under: Uncategorized


During a vague moment of a fitful sleep
Roundabout 5 in the morning
Somebody said something to me
I don’t know what it was
But it triggered a memory
Of driving through beautiful countryside in an open top sportscar
Although I have an open top sportscar
This was a different one
It was a drenching feeling of a door opening to a parallel life
That seemed to pulse excitingly through me
Though I was dreaming I was still thinking objectively
And brief moments occured when I thought for a moment
That I really did own two sportscars
But had somehow been brainwashed by something
This made me concentrate on where this car might be
Then suddenly “Portsmouth” sprang to mind
Of course I knew then it wasn’t from this reality
But distractingly I promptly appeared on a grassy island in broad daylight
Ooo…I was in vivid world
I walked down a winding path to a coast littered with brightly coloured fishing boats
A stunning sight appeared around the hill
The waterway in front of me was a river
And on the other side loomed a massive city
Constructed almost entirely out of what looked like railway sleepers
A number of massive structures defied building integrity
Overhanging the river with no visible support
It was a menacing sight
Sometimes it is good to know some general geography
Especially now
I figured I was standing on Gosport
After crossing a bridge I made my way to my apartment…apparently
The door was open
On the bed was a pair of my jeans
I plucked a gold credit card from the back pocket
And startled myself with another wave of familiar memory
I remembered using this card many times
How odd
I moved to the window
And traced my hand across the glassless window space
Along the cold soft railway sleepers
A door slammed and pulled me straight back to planet earth

My legs and arms were really heavy
Like when you are physically depressed and can’t summon anything
Inability to think what I was doing
And dropping things also seemed to be normal
As I fumbled my way around the kitchen trying to eat some breakfast
What the hell is matter with me?

Still unable to think straight
I slid into the cab
First job of the day was to collect a student from Gatwick
The first obstacle was the office door
Nobody would answer it
Maybe it was broken
Just about to switch to phone mode and the door opened
I collected the paperwork
Unfolding it on the cab to glean the details
I squinted at the landing time
Shit!
The landing time was 10 minutes ago
It was even written this way on the sheet
Idiots!

After 10 minutes of standing around in the North Terminal
The student appeared
He was an Iranian flying in from Dubai
He practised his English on me… most of the way to Brighton
Telling me he was a semi pro footballer in Iran
An attacking midfielder who could shoot equally well with both feet
He wanted to take a trial with an English club
His favourite club was….surprise surprise
Man Utd

A job came through the moment I let him out
It was a No.23
I took a sigh and set off

Two men got in
They stunk of ‘all night’
And were odd with me
The one in the front directed me the long way straight away
Half way along I cut it short by making a turn
I drove over the bridge of the suicide cabby
Looking at the flowers on the railing as I passed
The guy in the front told me turn the meter off and call it £6
That was ridiculous…I said no
He said he was only going to pay me a fiver anyway

Now…the situation is this
Firstly was he kidding?
If he was… then trying to kick him out would be a silly escapade
If he was not kidding
Then kicking them out would be a tad dangerous
At this time in the morning
There was nobody around
They could kick up a fuss and cause me numerous problems

Twice more he said he was going to give me a fiver
Again and again he disagreed with the route I was taking
I pulled over at the destination
Fare was £13
He`gave me a fiver
And they walked off

I was boiling inside
I fucking hate these cunts
Shooting him in a lawless world would be a pleasure
And I sincerely mean that
For over an hour I thought of ways to get my own back
But everything I thought of had possible comebacks to make it not worth the trouble
For fuck sake
If this was the yardstick
Why does anybody pay for taxis?
There was nothing I could do
The police won’t help in these situations
I could press the emergency button on the data unit
And a load of cabbies would turn up
But how do we legally extract a fare?
The sum total would be a net loss of even more money
Wasted poncing around arguing
The only thing that actually changed this time
Was that I blacklisted the address
But that is also rubbish
It probably wasn’t their address

The whole dirty crackling energy of that situation
Followed me around for hours
Sticking to me
Like a drying mudpack

At midday I pulled up at the rank
Next to “Dead Man’s Cab”
I asked Alain if he had gone to the funeral
Still with a mocking look on my face
As if I didn’t believe a word of it
He said yes
And then rolled off a whole load of detail

He was 47 when he died last week
A university graduate from back in the old days
Had lived and worked in Paris
Was a member of the Communist Party
He had four daughters to the woman who had thrown him out
And one older son from an earlier relationship
The son was the most upset
The eldest daughter…dolled up
The least disturbed
As they stood and listened to the non christian recital of his life

He had spent his last days living in his car
Which was found near to where he had jumped
He landed on the bypass badly injuring himself
Was hit by a car
And died 3 days later



Darkly Does It
Monday January 31st 2011, 9:57 am
Filed under: Uncategorized


It’s Sunday morning
And the streets are only sprinkled with people
The day is crisp and fresh
But as usual the early customers of the day are not fresh
They are from yesterday
And are set not to exist for today
After the first stinking group
Was a lone guy
He sat in the front
His head lolled onto the window
Eyelids under great pressure to close
“Barnett Road please”
“You’ll have to excuse me mate” he continued
“I think I’m slipping into a coma”
“If it starts costing too much money…”
“You’ve got my permission to turn off the machine”
He remained firmly in the coma until we arrived at Barnett Road
I hailed him as we entered
It took him quite some time to find his hand
And then his pocket
Then he had to hold his right hand with his left hand to make it rigid enough
To push into his pocket
There was nothing in that pocket
So he repeated the same for the left pocket
Out came a twenty
Relief
I said to him
“You will have to turn off your own machine now”
He looked at me and did a few different frowns
“That is a heavy concept mate…turning off your own machine”
Then he slid out failing to close the door

I returned to the rank…the usual one
Though since I joined Big Company
I have not been here very often
There was one cab parked there
I knew him so I started to pull alongside
Then I hesitated because I thought that it was his night driver
His night driver is a loner
I don’t bother him at all
Once I helped him with a flat tyre
With no gratitude at all
It was not the night man
“Hey how ya doin…I thought it was your night driver for a minute”
‘Oh…it wouldn’t be him anymore…he’s dead’
“What?!!!”
‘Yep…he committed suicide on Friday night’
“Fuck…how?”
“He jumped from Ditchling road onto the bypass”
“What?!!”
I had a moment
The notion of what he just said didn’t add up
“How do you know?”
‘I rang his girlfriend to see if she knew where he was and she told me’
‘Also I drove up there and spotted his car parked…’
‘She’d kicked him out recently…looked like he had been living in the car’
Then he took a job and drove off

I pondered this packet of information on and off for few hours
Until the point that I dropped at the university
And decided to return along the bypass under Ditchling Road
There was no blood and no chalk man on the road
No sign of any incident
I strained my neck to look up as I passed beneath it

I parked up at the Asda and bought a coffee
How desperate that man must have been
Jumping off that bridge is insane
It’s not high enough
It would be like throwing yourself out of a third floor window
Badly injured is the most likely outcome
And you would lay there badly injured
Until a speeding vehicle hit you
And not without the possibility of killing some poor driver
Or mentally scarring them for life
How bloody inconsiderate

The notion of his actions troubled me
It seemed ridiculous
But I reflected on the job
If one was feeling utterly depressed…suicidal
This is not a good job to be in
It can take your ideals and beliefs
Corner them and crush them
With the constant flow of the negative public
Washing you against the rocks

I drove a customer over to Hove
And dropped in to Maraccos coffee bar on the seafront
Mrs Dial was there with Jonatron and his wife
They have a new baby also
Though Jonatron is not happy about it
And hasn’t been for some time
It took me some time to catch the waitress and get a coffee
I sat there waiting for my coffee and sighed
Mrs Dial indicated that I should hold their son
So that Mrs Tron could eat her food properly
Ok…so i picked him up
He is tiny
And has lots of dark hair
Which is a bit odd for a baby
I looked at him and a thought crossed my mind
It was not a good thought
The baby was not happy
Could I possibly relay this thought to the table?
The baby started to murmur a cry
Oh no here comes the thought…forming into words
“He looks like Bernard Manning”
Mrs Dial laughed
Mr and Mrs Tron didn’t
There was a pause for a minute
Then Jonatron said
‘He does look a bit like Bernard Manning’



A Quick Decap
Thursday January 27th 2011, 3:19 am
Filed under: Uncategorized


Oh where do I begin?
A whole sea has passed under my bridge since the last post
So I delayed for sometime wondering what to write
While the iron was hot
And then I decided it was just too personal
That I should just stick to the task of writing about my daily cab toils
But by then I had lost my login page
When I eventually found my login page
I couldn’t remember the login or the password
Nor would it recognise either of my e-mails

But that was then
And now at least some sort of explanation
Because there are people who read this

At the point of the last post
The one about the stupid junctions
I had reached a saturation point
1. The hamster wheel was running too fast to feed the hamster
Money was flying through my hands
2. Mrs Dial hadn’t worked for over a year
3. I was being regularly visited by thoughts of personal doom
That I had fucked up my recovery
And that I was going to die fairly young
4. I fell under the spell of another woman
And it really was a spell
I can describe it no other way
Because one day it just vanished from my mind
And I was grateful that it had gone
But during its reign
I had constant voices in my head
Out of any control
Just flaring into action
I was going nuts
Until one day of slavering madness I broke
5. I abandoned work completely
Under a swirling mass of problems
I borrowed a small pile of cash from a friend
And fled to France in a beautiful sixties sports car
Weaving through the bourgione like Cary Grant in a sunny spy movie
6. I came out in a considerable rash
It was the last flourish of my stress
And the wane of my panic
7. I decided through a thick wedge of experience
That I was going to dedicate my future to Eating correctly
Something that I had been forced to reflect on for some time
That at once seemed impossible to do in todays daily life
But through rigorous observation
Now looked more simple
I began to believe that even the mighty Jamie Oliver had failed
Because I was dealing with things
That in his swagger he had failed to see
And as I watched him on the telly
Cooking mussels on his mobile kitchen at sea on a trawler
I thought
This is just TV…just a waving image with a southern drone
It’s inefective in the battlegrounds of our cities
8. I returned to blighty somewhat recovered
Healed by the countryside of Le Morvan
9. I joined what used to be Klu Klux Cabs
Their merger with their city rivals
Had made them a very large cab fleet
They were most effective
And I was impressed
I was back in a saloon car
The human stench was right back under my nose
10. In the middle of November my second son was born
He took me by surprise
He had the most handsome cuteness
And could quietly enchant me
This had never been achieved by any other baby
11. An opportunity arose to road test the food plan
But it would involve living on the other side of town
Deeply mired in the domestic mangle of healthy eating
Troubleshooting all the things that needed to be trouble shot
For a dreadlockioed businessman nicknamed ‘Mental’
Who needed to stay healthy and very fit
For his International Ultimate Frisbee career
12. The year ended
13. Bum Bum



Brave New Weld
Sunday January 23rd 2011, 6:43 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


I did it
It suddenly came to me
That was like being stuck in the Phantom Zone on Krypton
After many months of being absent mindedly locked out of here
I am back in cyber space
I will be back soon



Great Junctions
Saturday March 20th 2010, 3:44 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized


Dyke Road Drive

Before this I have only documented one other road junction anomaly
And that was Seven Dials
I suppose that most cities have a few creative road sections
I have lived in Hull Brighton Oxford and Paris
Of which Brighton and Paris stand out the most
Here is another one
At the top of Dyke Road Drive
Is a junction high above the railway
dyke-road-drive
To me it looks like it was invented by a child
Though if I was that child
Maybe I would have drawn in a fourth set of give way lines
Thus creating a no-go area
Effectively a bureaucratic dead end made out of thin air
As it is nobody truly understands
How the right of way works at this point in space
There have been a few occasions
Where I have been flanked
By catatonic drivers
Waiting for someone to make a decision

If anyone in cyberspace can apply a correct ruling here
Please do