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