Monthly Archives: June 2013

An elbow in my ear

The sun floods down my back whilst my shadow walks ahead.
The day has just begun with no sadness, fear or dread.

An Elbow in my ear and a goose upon my skin.
A song inside my heart and a mile wide Cheshire grin.

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Thumbs as fit as fiddles

I long to play some football, my circle isn’t interested in that sort of thing and the extended ring to which I once belonged is now a fading memory; my waistline, in contrast, is an ever expanding reality.

My thumbs are as fit as fiddles – if fiddle thumbs were a thing, they’d be challenging in all sorts of competitions, winning little fiddle thumb trophies and signing autographs for fiddle thumb fans from all four corners of the world.

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He pulled the chair from under the desk with great gusto, plonked himself into the seat with a flump and cracked his knuckles. A blank document stared back. The cursor flashing patiently.

Bob the cat was walking through the room at the time. He did not acknowledge the declaration of intent. He’d seen the grand gestures, the cracking of knuckles and the oversized cups of coffee before. He knew he could count the minutes on one paw until the first tut.

Fingers tapped wood.
Mouse buttons clicked.
Whiskers twitched.
Websites opened.
Websites closed.
Keyboard keys stayed silent.

Tsk! He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and slid the chair away from the screen.

Bob the cat looked down at his outstretched paw and gave a long, satisfying lick.

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Do it yourself

The books he was given or borrowed or bought were great at making him look smarter than he actually was. They lay around the house inviting people to judge him in a positive light yet that story was just as fictitious as the novels on the second shelf of the birch Kilby bookcase he’d purchased last week from Ikea. The same piece of flat-pack furniture that he most certainly did not “Do himself“.

If they had taken a closer look, they’d have noticed pristine pages, no creased corners, absent bookmarks, un-peeled price stickers and a lack of cracked spines. If they looked really closely they’d have even found a trilogy of novels still bound in plastic wrap.

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The four walls of the office watched on as the collection of sour faces continued to let the worst of them get the better of them.

Shoulders sloping. Lips’ curled down. Each sentence punctuated with sighs.

The time for change had been and in it’s wake bubbled a wave of uncertainty, confusion and resentment. The usual embodiment of grief and irritation was getting comfortable with the in-crowd. The friends, it seemed, were keeping their enemies closer.

Motivation always needs to come from somewhere. For some all it takes is a sunny day, a smile from a stranger or a simple pat on the back. Others demand a fire lit, a carrot dangled or a whip cracked. Yet here the sun had set, the fire extinguished and the carrot left to rot.

Some say it’s better the devil you know. They just wished the devil would pack his bag, and fuck off.

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