Thursday, January 29, 2015

And didn't want to read

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I get up this morning and when I open the door, it has and is snowing. I ponder the thought of should I use the car or train, but deep within me I know London Midland won't let me down. I decide not to go the back way but to go straight down the road and though the town centre, after all it may well look really nice in virgin white. The town centre though is a not lower in height than my house and this seems to make all the difference, for in the centre it is just wet and miserable.

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I walk past the sleeping shops, round the corner and down the underpass. The one that has had a sign by it claiming they are going to redo it in an artist way, a sign that has been there ever since I have been using the underpass. I feel that they're may be some glimmer of hope on this happening though, as in the paper last night there was a "story" in there about it maybe happening soon. Dies this mean I won't be able to cross the road safely then. After all I always felt better about bring mugged down here rather than being run over on the road. We all know what wanker drivers are like these days. I pass Morrison's staying on the high road to the station. As usual these days I make it leisurely time and look to see if the train is coming on time or if the snow somewhere may have delayed it. Would you believe it, the train came two minutes early, and whilst I got on at my usual door the only free seats were eight at the front, so that is where I headed. For some reason I didn't feel like reading, I didn't feel like stating, I didn't really know what to do to entertain my magical and mystical mind. Perhaps I want to write, to scribble away, and do thought I hadn't tried the blogger app on this phone.

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So here I sit in Walsall,  in the waiting room, waiting for my connecting slow rain into Brum, a place I'm not going to, worst still is probably the fact the train is being driven by a girl. Is that allowed? Hell they can't drive cars properly so why allow them to drive trains ;).


And with that tongue and cheek I ponder how this post looks?


I maybe wrong, the train glides along the rails like we are floating, magically comes to a halt at each station and then just as magically, with a large accumulation of black smoke glides into action, her voice just as gently commenting where we are, for a change not one of those automated voices who's gone out of synch with where you actually are. I sit back relax knowing I'll get to wherever it is I'm going.





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"Nowhere Near The End Of the Rainbow"
contains information that is non-accurate, made up and in some cases just down right lies. Anything in this blogg may be based on true fiction but to help dramatise it, some items may have been embellished. Some names are made up, others are not and any that are familar to yours just are.



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 Near The End Of The Rainbow

An account of something that may one day turn out to be wonderful.......