The monky returns to wreak havoc…
Happy New Year all. Quick update before I fall asleep:
I went here for a week:
and saw things on the beach like
I travelled North
where I got highly, highly excited
and also when I saw some Eider ducks.
Friends did things like this:
and I looked like this when I was in self-imposed isolation having a bad time on NYE:
Then i took a bus two planes another bus then a car to get back to my beloved Patrick at Caversham Princess’s.
I drank lots of wine and Magners, I even drank Bushmills… I spent long periods of time staring at the ever-changing sea… I managed a few days away without thinking overly of MW#1… only to return to deep unhappiness on NYE…
I imagined I was on holiday with MW#1 in the tiny fisherman’s cottage perched on the edge of the harbour… I imagined him looking unimpressed yet indulgent as I spazzed out with excitement over ducks and rockpools and basalt extrusions… I spent three days trying my hardest not to cry…
I started jotting some lines for a new poem…I thought far too much about intimate obscenities involving MW#1… I spent lots of money… I finished and enjoyed Post Captain… I listened to Frank Sinatra singing “South to a Warmer Place” [real] on loop… and am continuing to wonder if I will ever be kissed by MW#1 ever again.
A grand trip indeed but the realities of life sadly impinged. I have acres of saved up junk in my head to put out in cyberspace, but bed and Patrick call me forth so more information and the particular analysis of Options One, Two and Three will have to wait.