The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.

So there I was in Almaty!

In love?

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Friends though she was quite a tease. We were each dating separately but occasionally went out together. Definitely in the friend zone with this beautiful young lady.

Cést la vie!

Oh yes we went to a French restaurant as she sometimes worked there; sometimes we ate there. I fixed things for her when she parted company with her husband.

Then we fell out. but became friends again.

Then fell out.

Then she said she would marry me in eight years. I was bemused…

Then my Mum died and I was all over the place. I asked her for a date. She blocked me on every social media and then avoided me.

I can deal with that. Now two years on I had a look on her Instagram page. Lo and behold she had a photograph of my book so I said I liked the picture.

Now she has blocked me on Instagram!

I will never understand women.

Yes she was a lot of fun and very attractive, and when drunk she always contacted me.

An interesting interlude in the pleasures of life.

“The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time”  James Taylor

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Disappearing

Kazakhstan was a blast. Beautiful women, great friends, good bars, dancing all night.. then having to deal with idiots all day.

Why do we promote the incompetent?

Actually that´s not fair. I´ve worked with some great leaders and managers throughout my life. In schools, in industry, in the army.

It seems to me that when we get a weak leader they surround themselves with incompetents so their own stupidity is hidden.

Irrelevant.

I fell in love just once in Kazakhstan; and the name rhymes…

Hoagy Carmichael has it right.

Sometimes I wonder, how I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song
The melody
Haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
But that was long ago
And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song

Besides the garden wall, when stars are bright
You are in my arms
The nightingale
Tells his fairytale
Of paradise, where roses grew
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love’s refrain.

 

 

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Sunrise to Sunset – for Tasha

This year for the summer solstice I rose early to watch the sunrise over the Mediterranean from the beach at Peniscola. In the evening I sat on my balcony and watched it set.

It took me back two years to 10th August 2014. I watched the sun rise as I flew from Astana to Almaty, then watched the sunset with a beautiful woman from a hill-top restaurant. I thought that was a heavenly day.

Sadly I let that sun set too quickly.

I wasn’t ready for a deep relationship.

Two years on I am working on a new sunrise.

Things have changed so much as I sailed through the perfect storm of stress;

  • Divorce
  • Forced House sale
  • Awful job
  • My Mothers death
  • New job, new country
  • Serious health scare

Yet I came through the storm, tattered and torn, but still moving.

Things can only get better!

 

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Here we are being Crass in May.

Where are you?

I went to Singapore; sorry I forgot to mention it!

And who will teach your classes?

That silly girl who has ignored you all!

She will be promoted soon as she is vacuous;

Just like the Boss and his cronies!

Who will check on her?

Who needs to?

The Boss came down from the mountains

Dressed in Damask and a thong of Gold.

His counterparts,

Suited and Booted,

Embarrassed shuffling for the school photograph.

“Sit down boy!”

But where do I sit and with whom?

“Just wear the Dunces hat and write one thousand lines”

‘I must not be a fool’.

The text went through to the Boss’ Lackey

Though he can’t read and never responds;

“I was dead for three days before you even noticed!”

“But you wrote your own eulogy; we know it was you!”

Catherine lost her job today,

Because the Boss went out to play,

Wandering aloud about the town,

So he didn’t have to watch his son go down.

You kicked me out without any fun!

Pay me! Pay me! Pay!

Third time lucky for the invertebrates.

The Chuckle Brothers came out to play at four,

But whinged when you went out of the door;

“She’s leaving early! Boo hoo!”

Then the paedophile screws up his courage,

To moan about women’s clothes.

“They should dress like neat little schoolgirls!”

He cries to his radical lover.

When winter comes, cascading elderly white amongst the youth,

Outcome the skiers,

Stupid hats, fat heads, dead, keen.

I am the Grand Old Duke of York!

Tosses his Pole to a Kazak;

Then any other girl he meets.

 

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Bitter

 

Mines a pint cried the fat man.

No need to cry, it’s on its way!

Ready in five came the steadfast reply.

Bitter today?

Idiots causing life to change;

Change!

Look at your hairdo, your suit, your beard!

Stupid old man!

Move on to move on,

Lucrative styling, ludicrous style.

Grab the cliché and fins an island in the sun.

Is it possible?

Will she come with me?

Or do I leave her with the sausage makers,

Their height of creativity a Cumberland?

Cumbersome travels.

Move on to move on!

She said it again; I listened.

It glistened;

The island in the sun.

 

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Soft surf Peniscola beach.

Kicking through the gentle surf,

I see Sea; Life and death.

Water of life bitter to taste, killing the tree,

Death is the Sea Shells Sanctuary.

Broken Rocks,

Broken hearts.

Even your name evokes in me;

Peniscola!

Penis, giver of life whether desired or not,

Six percent?

Cola refreshing the parts we dare not mention;

Sagging breasts reminder of the time of your life.

Pert! Young! Sentenced to gravitational rectitude!

Alas…

A lass walks toward me, pointing football studs;

“I dare you to look me in the eye”

I looked.

I did not turn to stone.

The Sea erodes my insouciance,

Dead skin to feed the fishes.

“Who will swim with us this night?”

Darting silver arrows search waves of discontent,

The soporific surf sloughing away my life?

I kissed the wave goodbye.

 

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My thanks go out to the lazy invertebrates

Thank God the sun refused to shine,

Or I might have thought I was loving you!

 

Walking into that same old trap,

heading for the same old crap,

Early mornings, afternoon nap,

A woman who could really sap.

 

Then out she came with the magic word,

Something I’m glad I just heard,

Something that made my fears end,

“Honey I just want to be your friend.”

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