Autumn Leaf

I wonder if I’ll wake up and there will be a mist, a chilly enticing mist that creates a fantasy that is so far
From the 

Ordinary day.

Its days like this that my imagination comes to life…

But it was not.

And now I have to look at life differently,

Even butterflies have to land and if I

Don’t wake up now I may never,

Perhaps I won’t… 

That moment was wonderful

I was able to escape my dreaming

And instead stand back and look at it from 

A

Distance

And share some of it 

With you, as I shared in your life

For a moment.

You are so beautiful,
My breath was taken
And I forgot the world.
And you broke me

Out of my shell, 

Why am I always cold and morbid?

The conversation we had

In the stars

Far 

Above the earth

Is something that I’ll never forget.

Swirling always somewhere in my mind.

Thank you

Tea

'Some like to say “Now this is real tea, for tis the exact same as the original tea the first tea drinkers used to drink when they first started drinking it”. On the other hand there are those who say “Now this is a new type of tea, it’s recently been developed by a group of master tea makers or what have you”. Whilst others boast “I have a special tea I like to drink, it (and there are three versions of this mind you) 1, comes from some unknown country, 2, has a stupid name or 3, has a ghastly flavour. Some like to say they don’t mind what kind of tea they drink so they’ll even drink ‘Lipton’ (yes I know…). And the opposite of that are those who only drink one brand. Most people are quite particular about how they take their tea, example: with a touch of milk and tea spoon of sugar, or no sugar and just milk or no milk and just sugar and some just have it black with the bag left in which is terribly uncivil. Drinking tea is quite personal and people should take pride in how they drink it. Some even like to trace back through their ancestry the certain type of tea they drink. There’s a number of people who collect antique tea’s and tea pots. Some tea pots are even worth two million dollars. Most people have a special tea cup that they only drink from, even if its chipped and cracked. Some people say leaving the cup full of milk over night will fix the crack because of the lime or something in the milk. I have a recipe for fixing broken plates. I also have an antique plate from the seventeenth century which I found just by chance in an antique shop. "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one", "The only real valuable thing is intuition" and "A person starts to live when he can live outside himself" and those were some just some of the quotes from Albert Einstein'. Sally put her hand up ‘have we moved on from tea now?’. The Moose frowned at her and said nothing. Julius stood on his chair ‘I just invented  rhyme: Have you heard about the Moose? All he does is talk, talk, talk.’ ‘That doesn’t rhyme’ snorted the Moose. ‘Yes it does, the last three words do’ retorted Julius. ‘Twinings, Twinings, Twinings oh my darling Twinings.’ said Jacqueline (weird). ‘Damn my nose it itchy’ I said, ‘scratch it, tea anyone?’ asked the Librarian.

At 6:47 in the Sun Room.

"Inside the colour" is a phrase I've never thought about.' Mused Jacqueline. Jacqueline is a bit weird, she has dark red messy hair and a strange voice which bounces between words like a frog and wears turquoise beads. The Moose threw back his head and laughed his infectious laugh, 'Aaaaaaaaaahhhh ha haha, heh heh heh (etc) Imagine that?' he laughed again 'ha haha, ha haha, heh heh heh... a frog wearing turquoise beads!' I shook my hand in a bucket of monkeys 'whatever next, what colour beads do frog normally wear?' I thought out loud.  'There!' said Jacqueline in the way one people normally do when they're going to say something else once other people have said "what, what?' and everyone looked at her in expectation, but nothing happened. I told you she was weird... I once even saw her talking to herself, and she writes rhyming words on scraps of paper with an ink pen and scrunches them up and leaves them lying around for people to read (which is mental and I think she should see a doc. 'What is inside the colour?' asked Sally trying to be nice. (Jacqueline (who was mentioned just before) doesn't like Sally)...

The Moose stood up and raised one hoof 'this is the Sun' standing on a chair 'notice how yellow it is.' He raised another hoof circling it around the first 'Now here comes Pluto!' The Moose put another hoof into orbit 'Mars the red planet' Then another hoof started circling the sun (which was the first hoof) 'The Earth!' Everyone cheered. Sally giggled 'look the earth is turquoise like frogs beads' Jacqueline looked at Sally and smiled, 'That's true, they are'. Sally made her cheeks dimple 'lets be friends' 'Okay' agreed Jacqueline. 'What is inside the colour?' asked Sally, 'Well you see...' said Jacqueline as they left the room. 

'This a an experiment' said the Moose 'Watch' so we did.

and                                a                                            long                              long                           time                                                       

later                        there was a lot of colour floating around in the air and one could reach out and touch it. It was quite amazing and much like walking through a field of flowers and butterflies. Sally and Jacqueline came back into the room and looked around, 'where's the tea?' asked Sally. The Librarian got up and pointed to the tea pot 'on that chair' Sally walked over 'tea anyone?'. By the way they weren't real monkey's but plastic ones. It's a fun game where there's a barrel of plastic monkeys and one has to make monkey chains by making the monkey's hold hands and whoever picks up the most monkey's wins.

Beginning to Finish,

'I wonder' I said as I wondered out loud,
And I thought as I wondered along.
'If the road really stops when I've gone round the bend,
Or if it becomes short or gets long?'

I do find it so hard so I do, to finish what I have begun,
And make there no doubt it is true,
When I had began to begin that which what I had begun,
I began beginning anew.

And so I said to myself so I did so said I,
'If I start at the start and end at the end,
I shall start to finish that which I have began to begin,
Which can't be all that hard to amend.

White Cloth

I blink my stinging eyes and for a moment am blinded before gradually my eyes focus in the dimly lit room. Green is a dominant colour. I wipe my eyes with the white cloth and notice that the wallpaper is beautiful tiles covering the floor. The walls are covered in green patterned tiles with a brown cross in the middle and dots, the dots are on my hand. I hold it up and wipe the spots from my hand on my leg. Where is the ceiling? I can't see it because it's very high up in the dark sky with pigeons and moths fluttering around the swinging light bulb. The bulb is broken so I reach up and put a new one in, burning my hands badly. Now I can finally see where I am. 'Please, may I have some water?' I ask the waitress driving the car, she's wearing a red cap and has blonde hair with curlers in. She turns around and her mouth drops open and her face becomes deathly white 'get out, get out!' she screams. I bend down falling to the ground with my hands on my ears as the ear piercing scream fills the air. Gathering my strength I slowly crawl forward through the smoke toward the door. 'You'll be needing this' says the Librarian smiling and wiping her hands on her apron, she hands me a white cloth. I nod and walk over and wipe the dirty window so we can see out, I wipe and wipe harder and harder until I become frantic. 'The cloth wont become dirty!' I scream, the Librarian smiles 'gently does it dear'. I shut my eyes and struggle forward, dirt cuts my hands and I can feel it rippling and bubbling under my feet. Suddenly I fall backwards, my head hurts. The dirt seams to spread out forever and there doesn't seam to be any water, the cuts on my hands a bleeding and I can feel trickles of blood running back down my arms. The blood drops to the floor. I tap the waitress on her should 'please I did ask, may I have some water? I'm so very thirsty' she shakes her head without turning around. Leaning my head against the cold windows and watch the cars and city lights fly by through the dark like moths. They're fluttering around a light bulb. My blood looks brown on the green tiles, brown spots, a moth falls and smudges a star shape. 'Here love, you'll be needing this' says the librarian smiling at me and holding out a bright white cloth. I gently wipe until everything is so clean it glows white, bright white. I blink my stinging eyes and for a moment am blinded before gradually my eyes focus in the dimly lit room. Green is a dominant colour. I wipe my eyes with the white cloth and notice that the wallpaper is beautiful tiles covering the floor.

Ms Price

Let me tell you about an in interesting experience I once had. I went to a place where a lady called Ms Price was giving a series of interesting 'art' lessons, well she called them art anyway.

I remember on the first one she gave each of us a camera and took us out for the day. We went to a beach and made sand sculptures, then we went to the beautiful old part of the city and then at the end of the day we went up a mountain to watch a truly amazing sunset. Everyone was a passionate art student and most used two or three rolls of film, some even more. 

When we came back to her studio Ms Price asked the students to hand over their cameras and film. The first student came forward with his camera and Ms Price took the rolls of film, threw them in a bucket of water destroying all the photos and put the camera away. Then she asked him if he had enjoyed the day and the stunned student asked her why she had destroyed all his beautiful photos and left the room shaking his head.

She asked for the next student, nervously a girl came forward with her camera and Ms Price destroyed all her photos as well and the upset girl left the room before Ms Price could ask her if she liked the day. After this no other student wanted to hand over their cameras so Ms Price reminded them they were her cameras and film, so one by one each student came forward angrily handing over their cameras and stormed out of the room. 

Ms Price calmly destroyed all the rolls of film until she came to the last camera and looked up frowning for no pictures had been taken. She looked at student and asked him to explain. 'I didn't take any photos' he told her. Ms Price smile, 'did you enjoy today?' she asked him. 'Oh yes it was lovely' he replied. 'That's good, you did well on today's lesson. Tomorrow we might do Chinese watercolour'

There's nothing deep or meaningful in what she did, she's quite mad really. It's not so much about enjoying the moment as you might think because some people enjoy the moment just as much when they're snapping photos. No it's something else quite different I mean it's not just art it's a philosophy, but maybe I'll tell you about it another time.

The Flickering

Have you heard about the flickering?

Its all the gossip, up and down the land.

No ones sure of all the details,

But we all know there's something up.

At first nobody turned an ear,

But it was front page every week,

And then everyone took some notice,

When the Prime minster gave a speech.

Some say it's of alien origin,

Or a government conspiracy.

But most people tend to agree,

It's just a natural phenomena.

It's becoming a bit of a scare now,

The army and police are in every town,

Compulsory awareness programs are in place,

And everyone wears an ID card.

After all this time gone by,

And no one knows what it is,

I wonder how long it will be here,

one or two or ten or a hundred years?

Have you heard about the flickering?

People used to say,

But now everyone just wants it to go away,

It's here and there's not really much else to tell.

Note for paddington

There's no need to worry, stop correcting your mistakes. Even stop looking to see if you’ve made a mistake or done something wrong, that's why you find it so hard to do things properly. You’re a perfectionist and its just to much trouble; you put too much strain on yourself. Anyway you can always come back and fix it up if you really need. I know you’ll do it anyway so why try to change it as you go? It makes no sense except that you’re scared of letting yourself know you made a mistake. But that's the problem, your doing it wrong already, it's just too hard specially when you can't make up your mind.

Dignity

There’s nothing wrong with being able to count to one perfectly, but when you move on from there and have trouble counting to five then there’s even less pride in that.

The Door-less Room and How the Moose Made a Door in it

'You know what I feel like?' said the Moose spinning around with shut eyes. 'No idea' I said 'Well I shall tell you' continued the Moose. 'Imagine I'm spinning around holding a sheet, well that's my imagination' I stood up and sat down again 'did you notice this room has no door?' I asked but the Moose ignored me. 'My fabulous mind is me, and my imagination is a sheet which I'm twirling around. The deeper and more involved it is the longer the sheet is and likewise the harder to twirl and get off the ground' he looked at me and twitched his nose. 'I haven't the faintest idea what you are saying,' I said getting up 'now lets find a door', 'lets find a sheet' said the Moose. I looked down my nose at the Moose 'You're a bit camp you know' the Moose rolled his eyes 'Just find me a sheet' I bent down and found a sheet hidden under one of the chairs. The Moose snatched it and swirled around 'I imagine a beautiful door with my name on it' he sang. When he had folded the sheet he opened the door and we went out. 'There was a name on the door...' said the Moose looking down his nose at me, 'Yes, your name' I grumbled.

Sally

Some people are like autumn; all somber and exciting, not exactly cold and indifferent like winter but not warm like summer. Well Sally isn't an autumn person at all, nor summer and most definitely not winter, goodness me no. Sally has a springtime nature, excitable and bouncy, fragile and naive, imaginative and energetic. Everybody changes so one cannot presume to explain any one persons personality, one day this the next that. But Sally always loves red and yellow poppies, pink and blue ribbon, small books that fit in ones hand and sponge cake with lemon aid and I think she always shall.

Sally

Leopard and Turtle Soup

Leopards and turtles are good. There's leopard soup and there's turtle soup but then there's leopard and turtle soup. Now that alone should make your mouth water but an old man once told me something very wise and it changed my life; I can't remember exactly what it was to tell the truth but I've already said too much, it was meant to be a secret -or surprise was it? I really can't remember now, but truly it has been said 'once shy always shy, twice shy still shy'? Bah I've forgotten how that goes now... anyway about leopards and turtles: well leopards have magnificently long necks and swishy tails and turtles? Well they're dirty stinkers.

Pondering

Sometimes I look around and I don't see anything. At least I don't think I do, but really I just don't see what I wanted to see or what I was expecting to see. One always see's something, or really a lot of things, but it's hard to see something when you don't know you're looking at it. It comes as no surprise that the special things are often seen out of the corner of ones eye. And on an unrelated note, this song makes me teary for some reason.

A Day in Comparison

Each morning I have a cold shower before I go mad. For breakfast a bunch of banana's are eaten by me and a glass of milk. Then trot I down to the English breakfast rose gardens and sit in my favourite bench all day and after ten minutes I get up and find myself walking again. Before lunch the milkman and I chat for sometime and then collect the newspaper and discuss strikes with with Mr Benton who lives next door. By mid-day it's time for my afternoon nap, and if it's warm enough I'll have a snooze in the butterfly pergola. For brunch buns and coco are the norm, then it's off to Mr Grey's Book store where we rant about the everything from the weather to other things. Come night the cat and I eat dinner watching the television. The next day will be completely different.

The Little Stone Church

Once there was a little stone church who lived in a forest with a river on one side and grave yard on the other. Many many years ago people used to come to it each Sunday, but those days are long gone and the merry sound of singing no longer fills its walls. A man used to come and take care of the gardens but one day even he came no longer and the path that led to its door slowly disappeared under the grass. The birds nested in the small bell tower and animals of all kinds made the little church their home. The little church felt sad and useless for being so neglected. One rainy day a family of wet cold rabbits came up to the front door and before entering they folded their paws, bowed their heads and said a prayer. The church suddenly felt warm inside for the first time in years. To this day the birds still sing every morning in the bell tower and each night the animals say their prayers in the merriest little stone church there ever was.

On Not Worrying

Sometimes I don't worry about certain things; sometimes I son't worry about anything in particular but most often I have trouble worrying at all. There's different ways not to worry; standing, walking, sitting are just some of them while sleeping and preoccupying ones self on what's more important are among the most effective ways to not worry. Some things don't lead anywhere immediately but everything leads somewhere eventually, but I don't mind, why don't I mind? well that's simple; I-just-don't. Besides sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof more or less...

Looking for Mr Mouth

'There's a lot of white everywhere' noted the Moose, 'there is' I agreed, 'we're sitting in the snow at the edge of a forest beside a frozen lake' continued the Moose 'We are' said I. The Moose shut his eyes and blew out lots of fog, 'now I've got to breathe that in' I complained 'I know' agreed the Moose, we sat silently on the snow getting sun burnt by the reflections off the ice while our backsides froze. 'They'll need a snow plough to dig me out' said the Moose 'who's they?' I wondered 'the people with the snow plough, obviously' snorted the Moose 'but why will they need a snow plough if they've already got one?' I wondered all the more 'They-just-do' said the Moose then opened his mouth wide and this came out:

'Sittin' by a pond,

Blowin' out fog,

Bein' all chilly,

Lookin' for a frog.

'Is that all you could think of to rhyme with fog?' I interrupted, 'yes' said the Moose.

'Gettin' irritated,

Thinkin' nasty thoughts,

Probably get up,

But I'm all froze in.'

'Pathetic poet...' I mumbled, 'I'm going to find the troll' grumbled the Moose 'well, you wont have to look far' I said getting up, the Moose blew out lots and lots of fog into the air and followed me. 'I thought you were froze in' I reminded him, 'I thought you -' began the Moose and put his head on the side and thought, 'I'm going to see Mr Mouth while you think of a come back' I said (Mr Mouth is the name of the troll), 'well, you wont have to look far' mumbled the Moose 'you can say that again' I agreed. So off we trundled to find the trolls house muttering at one another 'bother this cold' said the Moose.