A dozen soft-shoed policemen, young, like anyone’s child, gather at 640am; two, a bit older in blue fatigues, shards of silver in short haircuts, carry battering ram, riot shield, fire extinguisher and pole with noose for holding off dangerous dogs ..voices whisper.. one-who-does-nothing gives smile of authority..and off they go on wake up call … ‘doing the Lambeth Walk’ – hey!
Butterflies back in London garden; happy birthday spyche
‘It’s an Olympics corrupted by commercialism, gagging contracts and security restrictions,’ 1972 Olympian tells spyche. ‘An open prison where Heineken, Coca Cola and
McDonalds are like bread and water’.
Zebedee and spyche drink rose, YoYo and SweetBean go south, Settings goes north and Juggler hears music.. Washington mops up air miles
Green bottles beginning to slip: Bank of England, HSBC, G4S; and now It’s ‘news’ that cross-generational patterns of parenting exist ..wise up, world, we spyches are well on to that. BBC Today programme asks if it should abandon racing tips – and conform to some new norm? surely not .. long live nonsense!
The Guv woke up this morning, sipped his early morning tea, folded his spectacles and put them neatly on top of his teacup. He closed his eyes and passed away as easily and quietly as he had lived. 1912-2001. No trouble to anyone.
On course : lots of winners, wrong combinations .. No Nobby, no Duffer .. Mr and Mrs Tophat rubbed out at bridge; black dog happy – spyche remembers, then goes home
Eyes lose light in mourning dawning, black fades to matt under brightening summer sky; downed honeybee eaten by ants..
Marigold gets sad knock back, Deed sums up, Settings ‘offs’ target. Not-so-Quickly moves on – spyche turns pots, turns tables – and, hello, freedom ..no ‘foreign domination or despotic government’ Let’s dance!
YoYo finds billion dollar flaw; SweetBean goes for
fitting; JoJo and Juggler make repairs; Tiny gets presents; Marigold moves; Settings blinks; spyche gets going ..
Dry Fly knows about Barclays; and he’s been spot on about Bob Diamond …now nine green bottles left hanging on the wall, which the next banker to fall ? spyche writes ‘book’