23 March 2005

The Rites of Spring

Good Morning Germ Operatives around the world,

Our unseasonably good weather is putting me into an incharacteristically good mood. Just taken my my dear child Ave the rave up to nursery on my crumbling old shoulders, and witnessed an accident.
Not a serious event, but amusing nonetheless. My dear Old friend and temporarily ex-neighbour, the poet Jock Scott, is having his house renovated. For several days, a skip has been outside his once residence, filling up with the detritus of his long and eventful life. I have just witnessed said skip, being loaded on to a lorry, then tipping over, landing upside down in the road and depositing it's filthy contents everywhere. A mushroom cloud of dust enveloped the neighbourhood, causing anger and consternation for those just showered souls on their way to work who were unfortunate enough to be walking past at the time.
The great British workman knows no decorum and discretion. No thoughts of waiting until the street was empty to begin thier onerous task. Now cars are covered, the road is blocked with rubble and I dare say compensation will be sought.
Ava and I stopped short and waited for the dust to settle, marvelling at the filthy specimens emerging from the mist. I suppose Bagdad witnesses similar scenes on a daily basis, though of a less innoccent nature.
Oh the joys of spring. Must dash now, I have work to do.


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