The motorbike from up the road kickstarts Sunday's sermon to life. It coughs its way down our hill as my street of terraced houses congregate in two aisles of narrowing perspective. Open bedroom windows are giant church organ stops. No one sings. Morning's broken. Blame the bike.
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- PUDDLE
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About Me
- Kidcobbler
- Spent nine months dreaming on my back. Opened up new horizons, if only horizontal. Woke up disabled, with a Blue Badge and bed hair. Walk with a limp and a stick. Cue the double entendré and the stick. Saving money on shoes. Spending it on thoughts. Overdrawn at the creative bank. Loan facility disabled. The irony! Stronger through weakness. Weaker through slogans. New journeys to be taken. Pop along. I'm off my back. I'm back.
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