Postcards from the Wastelands

newborough Newborough Beach

The White Star Line didn’t have a great safety record, even before the S.S. Titanic brushed against the old block of ice, that took it down into the depths, where it languished for many decades, mostly forgotten except by those who lost somebody dear to them.         

I’m finding, that at the moment I’ve got a disturbing musical “changing of the guard,” going on in my head. Granted, taste is always a matter for the present conditions to dictate but I am very conscious of a tendency to step backwards at present. Christ, I was listening to and enjoying, a few old Grateful Dead albums, while at the same time considering “putting on some Lana Del Rey next.” Could the world get any worse?    ISIS and it’s dark jihadi warriors, rampaging through a completely destabilized Iraq.    Gaza and the Jewish Nazi’s fighting back, against Bonfire Night stylee rockets of Hamas, by blowing the shit out of the place and creating new, future enemies, with every explosion?     Then, there’s the farm up the road. All the animals, have now gone and it’s hard to imagine the full extent of Arthur’s dark tribulations?   “Poor bastard.”     Just take your pick. There are more “glee club” things to get fired up about, like Yanks getting beheaded and a dearth of Blend 37 coffee on Anglesey but it’s all too much for a simple boy to get overly excited about.    There’s something new almost every day and very little of it can be classified as “good shit.”    So, if they don’t watch it, I’ll buck the trend and start talking about the few good things, that are happening at present.

“Who are They?”

“You know, Them.”        

My trip to see the specialist about my wrist, seems at the moment, to going quite well. The damn thing hurts a touch less than it did. He gave me an injection of some “defamatory,” or other, straight into the “architecture,” as he called it and so far, things do seem to be a little improved.    “Here’s hoping.”     

It had better calm down, as I’m just about to start work on Book 2. Title, “The Elriche.”    Book 3, “The Mabb Stone,” will follow that and so on and so forth.    

“The Anglesey Fairy,” is calling in on Sept 12th, with his lady wife for his annual end of Summer visit but his cover is now blown, so you’ll just have to wait, until our pre-Christmas visit to see ‘Old Mother Blainey,’ which is normally at the end of November. It’s usually just a call, to dish out her pressies, etc, in time for Xmas but we will tell you chaps when it’s going to be, closer to the date and call around for a quick cuppa.     

There, that’s it for another “Postcard from The Wasteland.”

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