Oh sure, the summers were hotter than Hades and went on forever, we could play safely in the streets and leave our front doors locked and possessions unguarded, there were not the paedophiles and nonces praying on the vulnerable and chocolate bars were so much bigger than they are today, yada yada yada. I guess most folk have a jaundiced barrage of recollections and rose tinted memories when they consider the days of their childhood and youth with a mixture of trepidation and fondness. Nah! The quitter within me took one to the head and another to the chest way back in the days of my youthful innocence. My hands are surprisingly steady and my mind clearly focussed as I curse my own shortcomings and ponder the prospect of throwing in the towel and taking an early bath. Like Steve McQueen in a scene from 'Bullet', I'm driving like a demon high on crack as we dual and weave. We've taken to the roads this morning, with the early mist that caresses and envelopes the landscape like an angels touch, chasing our fenders and taunting my every twist and turn of the wheel. My identity is as fake as a politicians smiles and my stomach still churns from the change in the water and the greasy British food that prowls in my stomach like a caged Tiger longing for it's freedom. The scenery is spectacular and my passport is fresh off the printer.
0 kommentar(er)
