Wednesday, April 13, 2011


It's hard to believe it is fifty years since the good citizens of Mother Russia sent a man into orbit. If you take the broader view that we are all actually kinda made from the same thing that drifted in from the upper reaches sometime in eons gone by, I guess we could claim Yuri Alekseyevich Gagarin as a son of the Earth. As me old mate Leon used to say, 'I've been up there.' More times than not, I reckon.

However it all came about, the views are wide and varied, and in all fairness the root cause of many of the world's problems today. But let's not go into that. As the new line in Ireland goes, 'We are where we are.' And as cool as the Earth is to explore there is a big dark universe out there, but alas as far as we got was the moon. (supposedly)

The game of life is a tough one sometimes, especially when it seems that you're not actually playing never mind 'Winning' - another buzzword of our current times. Yet you can watch Spurs crash out of Europe or read about bloggers suing The Huffington Post en-mass for some form of residual for their efforts, and it throws up some amusing moments. I am not among them unfortunately. I hate litigation.

I once trod the streets for a marketing company who used to refer to Wednesday as 'Hump Day.' It's now pretty common I believe. Right now every day feels like a Hump Day, doesn't it?
You're either unemployed, or working your ass off just to survive or actually in it's practice, in which case the day does have a certain value. Those in the practice of the latter probably are not in the habit of reading blogs. But have a bet a few of them may be among the Bloggers mentioned above. It all depends on the game you play. As me old mate Leon and Marilyn Monroe used to say, 'Some like it hot.'

Arenas are funny places. In days of old when men were bold they fought in skirts with swords larger than Dirk Diggler's the death.
Now they sit on calm ocean currents, swaying gently beneath star kissed skies wiping each other out from far, far away.
Of course there are more pleasant arena's out there. Like the one at Wembley in 1985, the day the world lay down its ego and we tried to save a crime of our time. That will doesn't seem to exist anymore. One ponders the reasons for that sometimes. And sometimes it is not a nice place to go.

Perhaps Toeing and froing somewhere out there tonight in a old rocking chair is an olde man sucking on a clay pipe. Blanket on his knee, one of the classics in his hands. As he breathes toward his final door he wished he had had a benefactor so that he could have had the means to see the Himalayas or row solo across the great Atlantic Ocean in the peak of Hurricane Season. But then he might have suffered like Pip had, and never have tasted all the small things that really mattered in life. Contented, he shuts his eyes one final time and goes to be with them. Bigamy was always his thing.

'Tis a weird and wonderful world and to have the freedom to sum it all up in the one word has made a lot of sense to me. Free book to the first that posts that word in the comment box below. I must be getting good at this blogging game. Perhaps it's not to late to slip my name on to that list going after the big boyz. Isn't that what Booker does?

Here's to Yuri or if you prefer your version sang by a squealing political tormentor telling you to get back into your shell this one will probably work for you. Bit of Black Metal from Norway to finish off a seriously wet day.


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