The Sight Of Two Cranes (Probably Herons Actually).
I've already suppressed a violent passenger, Hog tying him with his own belt and leaving him for the guard to deal with (imagination is a wonderful thing).
Contemplated murdering a couple of pretentious little school children “my parents where so annoying me last night”. Bang. “and I so want a house party!” Bang. Single bullet, back of the head. Bang.
I'm still playing with poetry.
The crisp eaters, paper rustlers, waiting to get a free copy of the times someone else has discarded.
Then there's last nights dream. Vivid as usual. I'm playing a king in some thing like Shakespeare don't ask me which it never becomes apparent. Just be assured this is far less than a professional production. The lead man poncing about and refusing to take direction and trying to run everything. So no change there then.
I've taken another of my obligatory beard development photos. sorry let me explain that. A while back I had a very impressive beard length, and the most frequent question asked was “how long did that take to grow?” Now that’s a bit like saying “that’s a really interesting nose you have there how long did that take to grow?” Ever so slightly nonsensicle. So as a response to this, and only because of a personal beard styling tragedy (I cut too much off it one morning in a hurry, whilst trying to tidy it up), I have set myself the task of photographing myself at regular intervals. Knowing when I had to cut the beard back drastically (almost to the date and time exactly), my hope is that when people ask the vacuous question in the future I should be able to provide a more accurate time date and exactly how long its taken and provide them a web link to the archive of photos.
As for the title of this piece. Living in Portsmouth and travelling northwards I was lucky today to see two herons (I know I've decided they weren't cranes after all, I'm no twitcher).